“Remy you’re gonna get us in trouble!” Thomas laughed.
Remy threw a smirk back at him and continued tugging Thomas along by the wrist, not fast enough to make him trip or rough enough to bruise but just enough to leave Thomas breathless and stumbling along.
Remy ducked into an alcolve before finally bringing them to a halt, Thomas in front of him and still panting for breath as Remy smirked, seemingly untouched by the need for air. Jerk.
“What was that all about?” Thomas asked through his gasping. “We’re in the middle of a gala, Remy!”
“Babe, don’t act like you wanted to be in there,” Remy said, wrapping an arm around Thomas’ waist. “Cause I know I didn’t wanna be and my brain doesn’t try to abort mission when I’m surrounded by people.”
Thomas stuck a tongue out at him. “It’s still rude. I’m the king’s brother, I can’t just disappear-”
“Not even to kiss your totally-kissable-right-now boyfriend who got all dolled up just for you?” Remy feigned a pout. “C’mon babe, you’ll kiss me as a frog but not as a hot guy? What kind of-”
“First of all,” Thomas huffed. “I’ve kissed you way more as a human being than I did as a frog. Second of all, you dragged me to the most remote alcove in the castle just to sneak a kiss?”
Remy shrugged. “I’d say it was also to get you a breather but I’ve no intention of letting you do that for a good few minutes if I can help it.”
A snort bubbled out of thomas and he started giggling helplessly. His laughter softened Remy’s smirk gently, until his boyfriend was smiling as he tried to keep Thomas upright.
“There’s that pretty smile.” He cooed.
Thomas swatted him. “You’re hopeless.”
“Maybe for you but in general? Nah.” Remy grinned. “So whatddya say, Your Highness? Care to let a rat-scallion steal your breath away?”
Thomas snorted again and leaned up, meeting Remy’s snarky lips before he could get another word in. He could taste the blending of herbs that had been whatever tea Remy last drank, lemongrass and mint, as well as the faintest bit of chocolate lingering around the corners of his mouth.
He pulled away. “Did you get into my stash?”
Remy sniffed. “When we get married it’ll be our stash.”
“Neither of us has a ring just yet, buster, so stay away from my chocolate.” Thomas poked him in the nose.
Remy whined a little and snaked his other arm around Thomas’ waist. “But you loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooove meeeeeeeeeee!”
“And?” Thomas asked with an eyeroll.
“And… and I’d really like to get back to kissing now.”
Thomas snorted. “Alright, alright. C’mere.”
They met in the middle again, and once more, the entire world was perfect.
for a prompt: Mirror verse where it's roman who takes the role of cinderella na d patton whos the prince 👀
Once upon a time…
The wife of a rich man fell very sick, and when she felt that her end was coming she called her son, a darling boy named Roman, to her bedside.
‘My darling,’ she said. ‘Always be kind and always be brave. I’ll be guarding you from the beyond for I’ll love you forever.’
Soon afterwards, she died and was buried in the garden. Every day the little boy would go to her grave and weep, and tried his hardest to be kind and brave as his mother had instructed. His father thought him in need of two parents, and thus married-
“Wait a minute.” Thomas scanned the page. “Where am I in this story?”
“Oh,” Roman looked back down at the page. “Ummmm…”
“Roman if you swapped me out with Remy I’m gonna kill you,” He joked.
“Well…”
“Oh my go- Carry on then!” Thomas said with a playful roll of his eyes.
His father thought him in need of two parents, and thus married again by the next snowfall. His new husband had two sons of his own, named Thomas and Virgil, who were the lights of his life. They were bright children, but their father was foul of heart and set out to create a sorry time for young Roman.
His father had to travel often in order to continue their riches, and before one such journey he asked of his sons what they would like him to return with.
“Scissors for my hair,” Thomas said wryly.
“Shut it!!”
‘A large cloak!’ said the eldest.
‘A basket from the bakery!’ cried the younger.
‘And you? Child of my blood?’
‘All I ask is for the first bough that brushes your head as you return home to us.’ Roman asked of him.
And so their father left and attempted to return, but unfortunately as he was reaching for the bough to give his youngest, he slipped; kicking his horse which then threw it’s rider and killed him.
“Jeez, Ro.”
“There’s a reason for it, just shush!”
The young boy’s step father considered him the cause of his father’s demise and punished him greatly. He took away his fine clothes, instead giving him rags to mend into clothing. He forced him into the kitchen to do all the household chores, even firing the staff to make the load greater on him. His bed was taken, as well, forcing him to lie in the ashes of the hearth in order to keep warm. Then, due to how dirty he always was, his step-father began to call him Cinderoman.
Each day after the work was done, Roman would go out to his mother’s grave and weep. He wept so hard that a tree grew there, watered by his tears. And in that tree there came to be a nest, and the bird within it felt pity for the young man who was always kind to him. He grew to love him and would help him in his own ways.
“…Stop laughing!”
“Jo-joan is gonna fi-fight you! You’re gonna get s-such a to-tongue lashing!”
Roman rolled his eyes. “Well this isn’t for Joan. Anyway:”
Now it happened that the king of the land had a son of his own. As his son came of age he thought it proper for him to be wed, and so designed a feast that was to last three days with everyone of eligible age to attend so that the prince could choose a spouse or two. Young Roman heard of the ball and wished desperately to go, but his step-father forbade it. He kept Roman busy with chores and with mending until Roman was worn out and too tired to even wish to attend. His family left to attend the king’s feast and Roman found himself yet again in the garden, weeping at his mother’s grave.
‘Why do you cry tonight?’ asked the bird. ‘Tonight is an eve of celebration!’
‘Perhaps for others,’ Roman cried. ‘But I cannot go to the ball! I am doomed to slave here, under my step-father’s thumb, where I can get no respite even if the king himself decrees it!’
‘Is that all?’ the bird asked. ‘Then you need not cry at all, child. You have the answer here in front of you.’
‘What are you speaking of?’ Roman asked.
‘The tree in which I have built my home has become fond of me.’ The bird replied. ‘It tells me secrets in a way without speaking. It is grateful to you for it’s life and anything you ask of it in the same way without speaking shall be yours.’
‘I do not know this way of not speaking.’ Roman mourned.
‘I shall teach you,’ the bird replied.
And the bird moved its wings, showing Roman how to move his hands in the language without speech. At last Roman was able to ask his request:
‘Shake, shake, hazel tree,
Gold and silver over me!’
The tree’s branches shivered and creaked until from their boughs dropped a suit of silver, with flowers embroidered in gold. Roman slipped them on, thanked both the tree and the bird and followed his family to the feast. He was awed by the splendor of the palace, and so clean was he that his step-father did not recognize him and left him alone. His brothers did, however, and congratulated him on making it to the feast and for making such wonderful clothes. Roman would have been content to spend the evening with them if the prince had not approached him.
‘Never before have I seen a man as intriguing as you,’ Prince Patton declared. ‘Would you join me in a dance?’
Flattered by the request and awed by the attention of royalty, Roman accepted his hand. The two danced for the remainder of the night, enraptured by each other’s company. The prince danced with no one else and Roman forgot entirely about his troubles. Close to the end of the evening, Thomas ran up to Roman and pulled him aside, warning him that they were to return soon, and that their father would be angry if they were to do so and find him missing. Roman apologized to the prince and rushed home. The prince was distressed at his absence, but he had promised to come the next night as well.
Roman made it home before his family and gave his fine clothes back to the tree, thanking it. The bird took them for it’s nest, thanking the tree as well.
“I can’t believe our brother in law is a tree.”
“Shut it! I’m going somewhere with it!”
“Tell me to shut up all you like, I’m still gonna make fun of you.”
That evening Roman hid himself in his brother’s room and spoke with them on what had transpired. His brothers worried that it was ill-fated and that he would be caught, but Roman paid them no heed. If he were to be caught it would be worth it to see the Prince’s beautiful eyes once more and to dance with him for even one more song.
‘Teach us this languge without speaking,’ Virgil asked. ‘So that we may warn you if we are too far for speech.’
Roman did so and the three spent the rest of the night talking in it about the feast and the palace and the prince.
The next day, a feast was held again and after his family had left Roman went to the tree by his mother’s grave.
‘Shake, shake, hazel tree,
Gold and silver over me.”
From the boughs fell a suit of gold, with flowers of silver stitched into its edges. Roman thanked the tree again and promised the bird he would bring it back a morsel of bread soaked in tea-
“OHHH, THERE’S REMY!”
“Thomas if you interrupt me one more time I’m going to have you arrested.”
“Nah you won’t, you like me too much. Besides, you’re the one who wanted my help in telling if it was any good.”
“Ugh. Stop being right.”
And so he went to the feast, talking with his brothers until the prince approached him.
‘Might I take your arm again?’ he asked.
Roman obliged him and the two danced the remainder of the evening, lost in each other as much as they were in the steps and the music. Close to the feast’s end, Roman saw Virgil across the ballroom, hurriedly telling him in the language without speech that they were to depart soon. And that Roman had better be home before they were or their father would be cross indeed.
Roman apologized again to the prince and fled. Distressed, the prince let him go, vowing to get his name on the next night. Roman fled the entire way home and tucked his fine clothes behind the tree once more. And once more the bird took them for his nest, quite comfortable and fine in his new, golden bedroom. Roman hid in his brother’s bedroom again that night, waiting for them. When they arrived the three of them excitedly talked on all they’d seen, not resting until the morning light crested over the next hill.
The night of the last feast arrived. To ensure that Roman would not go, his step-father locked him in the kitchen, giving him no way out and not telling the brothers until they were well on their way. Roman pounded on the door until his fists were raw and red and yelled through the window until his voice was hoarse.
Hearing his cries, the bird flew to his aid and used his delicate feet to pick open the locks. Roman thanked the bird and approached the tree.
‘Shake, shake, hazel tree,
Gold and silver rain on me.’
Once more, a suit fell from it’s branches, this one a silken midnight blue woven with silver and gold, threads like stars on the fabric. And settled on the top of them was a crown entirely woven from beautiful glass. Roman thanked the tree for all it had done, donned the beautiful garment, and hastened to the palace. His brothers embraced him when he arrived, though the prince was quick to whisk him away when he saw him. The two danced through the night, getting to know one another and falling more deeply in love then they had thought possible. They whirled across the floor as if guided by the wings of love themselves.
Inevitably, the feast began to end and his brothers frantically told Roman that they were to leave soon. Roman apologized to the prince and fled. The prince was distressed for he did not even know his love’s name. He pursued him, but Roman was too fast, fleeing as fast as the wind itself and leaving behind only the glass crown, which had fallen off his head. He scarcely made it home in time to hide his clothes again, letting the bird take them for his nest before falling asleep against the bark. His brothers woke him the next morning. They hurried him into the house, promising he had not been seen.
The next day, an announcement was made across the kingdom declaring that the prince would wed the one who fit into the glass crown. The step-father thought this was very foolish, for of course his sons could fit a task so simple.
But when the crown was placed on Virgil’s head he declared, ‘Father, it does not fit.’
Their father was undiscouraged and placed it on Thomas’ head. But again his son cried, ‘Father, it does not fit.”
‘Have you any more in this house?’ the prince asked.
‘None but our serving boy,’ the father said. ‘And he did not attend.’
‘Let him try,’ Begged the brothers. ‘If it is futile you have nothing to worry for.’
The prince agreed and Roman was brought forth. The crown was placed upon his head, a perfect fit.
‘But if you are the man who I danced with, why are you in rags?’ The prince asked.
Roman replied, ‘I tell you, Highness, the clothes I wore were a gift to me from a friend, and in return I gave them to another friend who needed them far more.’
‘Truly you are the most kindhearted man I have met.’ the prince declared. ‘Would you become my husband?’
‘I will,’ Roman said. ‘Only allow me to bring my brothers, my bird, and my tree and I will be your most gracious husband.’
The prince allowed it and in an expression of gratitude for the kindness to Roman, his brothers fell upon the tree and bird and kissed them. In a burst of light two young men stood there, hand in hand.
‘Could it be?’ the prince cried. ‘Mine own brothers who have been missing half a lifetime?’
The three cried and embraced, talking in the way without speech the entire journey to the palace. It came to pass that Roman and the prince were wed, and later Thomas wed the Prince who had been a bird and Virgil wed the prince who had been a tree. They were deeply in love for the rest of their days.
And they all lived happily ever after.
“So?” Roman asked
“Well it’s well written but why’d you make it?” Thomas asked.
Roman shrugged. “Fit of inspiration. I was hoping that if I flipped it Patton might actually admit what happened to him was awful but the way it went I lost track of that point.”
“Clearly…” Thomas muttered, looking back down at the tree. “Why is Logan a tree?”
“I don’t know.” Roman admitted. “He just sort of became one. It’s sort of a callback to a story I once read.”
Thomas hummed. “Well it is good, but if you want Patton to read it I’d edit it to get back to the point.”
A frustrated groan sounded from the desk, startling Patton from his book. He looked up and over to see his husband, head against the ornate oak with papers piled high around him.
Sighing softly, Patton marked his spot and carefully hopped off the bed, setting his book on the nightstand as he made his way over to Roman. He rubbed at his husband’s shoulders a little, wincing at the tension his fingers met.
“What’s wrong, honey?” He asked gently.
Roman groaned again and wordlessly held up a paper.
Patton recognized it, luckily. It was one of those diplomatic things that formally needed both their names attached to them but always gave Patton a headache on masse. He and Roman had formed a little system where Patton would look over what he needed to in the mornings and Roman would finalize them and their signatures at night. It worked for the most part! Very few people paid attention to handwriting for trivial letters. As long as it was nice looking, which Roman always made sure it was.
...Which was why Patton was confused that Roman was groaning over this letter now.
“Um… sweetie?” He said. “I don’t see the problem.”
“Our names!” Roman groaned. “Look at our names!”
Patton blinked and looked again. ...and… again. Those were their names on the “addresses to” spot, alright. Unless things were horribly misspelled in a way even Patton couldn’t detect then they read:
His Royal Majesty, King Roman Christopher Rupert Windimere Vladimir Carl Alexander Fransiou Reginald Lancelot Herman Gregory James and his husband, His Royal Highness, Prince Consort Patton James.
“I give up sweetie, what’s wrong with our names?”
“The size!” Roman exclaimed, rising from the desk to throw his hands in the air. “My name is three times bigger than yours and it’s not fair! What sort of convoluted- just because I’m the king doesn’t make me more important! Why on earth is my name bigger than yours here?”
He went off on a rant and as he kept talking… Patton finally understood what the “problem” was.
He giggled, the sound stopping Roman short. “Honey! You’ve been sitting at this desk too long.
“Your name is bigger because it’s seventeen words long! The letters are all the same size, Ro. But even if they used my middle name and my unmarried name in here your name would be bigger because you’ve got a super long, super royal name!”
Roman blinked at him a few times, then stared down at the form that had caused all this.
“...oh.”
Patton giggled again and wrapped his arms around Roman. He placed a few gentle kisses against his cheek and nuzzled him softly with his nose.
“I think you’d better come to bed, sweetiecake,” he chuckled. “You can worry about all these paper with your super long name on them tomorrow.”
Roman ran a hand down his face. “Alright, alright. ...don’t tell Thomas about this?”
Patton kisses him again. “I am absolutely telling Thomas about this. It’s adorable and hilarious and I need to let everyone know that you love me so much that you temporarily forgot how long your name is.”
Roman groaned again. “I’m never hearing the end of this.”
“Nope!” Patton said cheerfully. “But on the bright side, you can come cuddle with me, now.”
I'm very late, but if you still take prompts for the cinderpatton oneshots, how about some hurt/comfort, with either patton being reassured that he belongs in the palace (and that his influence is a good one) or roman being reassured that he's a good prince, that he does what's best for his people (that his father is wrong to not be proud of him, the duck) I hope you have a good v-day, who ever you spend it with, a partner, friends or your glorious self! 💖💖💖
This is so short I’m sorry ajdskl. And thank you! I am my own valentine this year, but I hope you and yours are wonderful and supercalafragilisticexpealadoisius
“My darling, please…” Roman pleaded with the blankets. “They only said those things to hurt you. You have every right to be by my side.”
“No they were right.” The blankets sniffled. “I’m just a little cinder rat…I don’t deserve you.”
“Yes you do, honey.” Roman said fiercely. “You are a man born of noble blood with every right to be here as anyone who said these things to you. And even if you weren’t then I would still want you for my husband because you are the kindest, most generous, and most loyal man I’ve ever met and I am so so glad I get to wake up to your beautiful face each morning.”
There was a pause. Then the blankets shifted just enough to show one of Patton’s teary brown eyes.
“You mean it?” He asked, voice soft and hoarse.
Roman’s heart ached and he leaned down to press a kiss just over that sad eye. “I do, my love. I do. You are the prince not only of this land but also of my heart. And you rule it benevolently. I love you, and I do not wish to love anyone else.”
Patton sniffled again before moving the blankets to show his entire, tear-stained face.
Isabel3710 on Ao3 asked: Well. One thing I want to see a one-shot is how/why Thomas’ hair was so long and how/why it was purple.
Thomas stared at the words uncomprehendingly. It didn’t- well okay it did make sense, actually. But he really really didn’t want it to.
He closed the book with a solid thud and took a deep breath. He’d need a second opinion on this, just to make sure he was translating the runes correctly. And who better for that then the smartest person he knew? The one who practically lived in this very library? Thomas hefted the book into his arms and set out.
He found Logan not horribly far away, lingering in between the biology and medical isles. Thomas chuckled a little and shifted the weight of the book so he had a free hand. He tapped Logan on the shoulder and the other turned, giving him a slightly surprised look.
“Oh Thomas!” He signed. “What brings you here?”
Thomas’ sign was still a little shaky, but he knew Logan well enough at this point to know the other would fill in his blanks. So all he could really do was his best and hope that was enough.
“Know how I was looking for spell stuff?” He asked, waiting for Logan’s nod before continuing. “I found something… upsetting.”
Logan frowned a little. “What?”
Thomas gestured for him to follow to a table, where he set down the book and flipped back to the page he’d seen earlier.
“Am reading right?” He asked stutteringly. “Magic words hard to read.”
Logan readjusted his glasses and looked down at the page. He scanned it quickly, much quicker than any normal person would have. If Thomas didn’t know better he would have thought that he hadn’t read it at all. But not only did he know better, but Logan’s deepening frown betrayed that he had taken in what it said.
“Is this something you jasfdkl?” Logan asked him, though the last word might as well have been gibberish.
Thomas shrugged helplessly. “Not know jasfdkl,” He repeated the sign. “What?”
Logan thought for a moment. “Is this something that happened?”
Oh. Thomas sighed and nodded. “All time.”
Logan’s frown turned sympathetic and he patted Thomas’ shoulder before talking again.
“Sorry.” He said, “You didn’t ureiwksa that, Thomas.”
He didn’t need to be fluent to catch Logan’s sentiment. Thomas smiled half-heartedly and pat Logan’s hand.
“Thank you.”
“Do you ajsk to have tysoerwoasmy?”
Thomas squinted. “Uhhhh…”
Logan huffed. “Me to stay?”
“Oh! No. I okay. ...Going for a walk.”
Logan frowned a little, but nodded. Thomas gave him a reassuring smile and headed out of the room. He needed to think.
***
Remy found him wandering around the rose garden, halfway between the green roses and the powder blue. Remy rested a hand against his shoulder and pulled Thomas into a half hug.
“Hey babe, what’s eatin’ you?” He asked gently. “Lo said you may need some company.”
Thomas shrugged. “I don’t mind it, I guess. I’m just thinking…”
“What about?” He asked. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty brain of yours?”
Thomas sighed and headed for a nearby bench. They were dotted all around the garden, made of a cold white stone he didn’t know the name of, meant to flatter the roses around them without detracting from the beauty of them. A place to sit and admire. A place to think.
Remy sat next to him, rubbing his shoulders gently. “Babe?”
“...My hair is brown now.” Thomas murmured. “I didn’t know it was brown. It’s been lavender for as long as I can remember. My- She never let me cut it either. ...Now I know why.”
Remy gave him a concerned look through his sunglasses. He rubbed a little harder, a wordless expression of comfort.
Thomas took a shaky breath. “I’ve been looking into magic stuff. Trying to see if it like, corrupts the soul or something. To be honest, I don’t actually know what I’m looking for. I’m just looking, you know? ...But in retrospect it was a bad idea. I…” He hesitated. “...Every year during the first snowfall my mother would sit me next to the fireplace and wash my hair. It was my favorite time because it was the only time she’d set aside for me. She would comb through and make sure the shampoo reached every lock, every strand. It was so soothing to just have her run through it methodically like that. And the soap she used for it smelled tropical and happy… I’ve never smelled that smell anywhere else. It was my favorite tradition.
“But today while I was poking around I found… It’s a recipe for a potion. A combination hypnosis and tracking potion. To be applied to hair annually. It will alter the color and cutting the hair breaks the spell. When activated with the twin potion it allows the caster to spy on the target, and even call them back to the desired location via a trance-like state.”
Remy was quiet for a moment, letting the information sink in. “...So when your hair and eyes glowed before…”
“It was just one more way for her to control me.” Thomas said.
A few tears leaked out of his eyes and Remy drew him closer, rubbing his back lightly.
“Oh honey…”
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, huh?” Thomas laughed bitterly. “My favorite time of year and it turns out it’s just even more pain.”
“Hey, hey hey hey. Don’t do that,” Remy instructed softly. “That kinda thinking isn’t good for you, babe.”
“But it’s true!” he exclaimed. “There’s nothing in my life that she hasn’t tainted somehow!”
“Hey, hey hey.” Remy repeated.
He guided Thomas’ head upwards and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He smoothed down Thomas’ hair, which was a lot shorter now, shorter than it had been his entire life. It made Thomas want to puke but also made him want to dance for joy.
“Babe,” Remy said softly. “I know everything she did was awful, but you make your own choices now. She may have brought the threads of your life together but you wove them in and out of each other. She may have turned me into a rat but you’re the one who fell in love with me, kissed me, broke the curse, and saved my life. She may have torn you and Roman apart but you got back together in the end. And she may have cursed your hair, but you broke that one too. You cut it. It belongs to you now and in time it’ll grow out and you’ll cut it again and it’ll be hair she’s never touched. You are yours, Thomas. Not hers. Never hers.”
“You don’t-”
“Boy you are not about to tell me I don’t know that!” Remy exclaimed. “If I am not the world’s leading authority on my own boyfriend then someone turn me back into a frog right now! It seems we need to redo the true love’s kiss thing.”
Thomas let out a wet laugh. “It was a kiss from royalty, not true love.”
“Potato, to-mah-to.” Remy sniffed. “My point is: You’re an incredible and wonderful person, Thomas. Ain’t no one in the world better than you. And that didn’t come from her at all. You did it all on your own. You’re all yours, right down to the roots of your hair.”
Thomas sniffed and burrowed himself in Remy’s shoulder, wrapping his arms tight around his boyfriend.
“I love you.” He whispered through the building tears.
“Love you too, sweetheart.” Remy whispered back, the words just as much of a promise as any vow the other had ever made.
For the cinderpatton prompts, 3 times Roman dipped Patton and 1 time Patton dipped him!
3 ***
Patton yelped as he felt an arm wrap around his waist. The fear melted into giggles as his knees bent and his lips met Roman’s.
“Ro!” He laughed as they parted. “I coulda been in the middle of something!”
“But you weren’t!” Roman purred, righting them both. “And my beautiful husband deserves to be kissed as much as possible!”
Patton laughed again. “You sweetie, you. I was going somewhere, though. I need to talk to Lo about-”
“About something that can wait just long enough for me to dip you into a kiss.” Roman finished with a smirk.
Patton shoved him playfully. “You silly goose! You’re just a kiss hungry monster.”
“Guilty as charged~”
Roman tugged at his waist again, pulling him back into another kiss. Patton smiled into it despite himself. As annoying as it could be, it was nice to be frequently reminded how much Roman loved him.
2 **
Patton always felt uncomfortable at dances. Not because of the itchy clothes or the bright lights or the crowd, though those were always unfortunate parts themselves. No, if it were those alone he’d be able to bear it. The part that made him start to dislike dances was the absence of Roman at his side.
Since he’d been crowned king people had started clamoring for his attention at social functions. Roman would be pulled this way and that, each person on the floor wanting to become the king’s best friend for the evening. Patton would usually linger around the food with Thomas while the others wined and dined. That wasn’t too bad, though. He and Thomas were both outsiders to this world, and it was nice to have someone else who didn’t understand it.
But tonight was a very very nice change of pace for one reason and one reason alone. Patton didn’t even really care about it being his birthday, honestly. However the celebration being in his honor gave Roman an excuse to leave the other guests in the dust and return.
Which meant that his husband spent the whole night whisking him across the dance floor. The oversized tails of their coats brushed the floor sweeping stardust behind them for turn after turn.
“This is the best birthday ever,” Patton whispered softly.
“I’m glad you think so,” Roman whispered back, guiding him across the floor. “I wish I could spend every ball like this. With you in my arms.”
Patton giggled. “Well you can make it up to me later. I’m already calling dibs on little spoon tonight.”
Roman chuckled and dipped him low, joining their lips together softly and slowly. They didn’t part as they rose, letting the moment linger between them for a few more heartbeats before returning back to the reality around them.
“Whatever you wish, my love,” Roman said reverently.
1 *
“My first week off in ages and my husband won’t even pay attention to me!” Roman lamented. “Why must fate be so cruel a mistress as to give me such a man as my groom!”
Patton reached over and dotted some of the batter onto Roman’s nose. “Don’t be so dramatic, honey! I’ll give you all the attention you need once I finish this batch of brownies for Thomas!”
Roman wiped it off and sulked, draping himself over the kitchen island in a manner that could almost be called melting.
He grumbled a little. “You know Toby could bake those too. Then you could stop neglecting me.”
“Toby never balances the sugar and cocoa right,” Patton explained. “I really want these to be exactly perfect! Thomas has been super nervous lately and I think a good batch of brownies could help turn that around.”
“But I want you!” Roman exclaimed, with all the grandeur of a cat that thinks it’s dying due to an empty food bowl. “I need you! You cut me and I bleed you! You’re like some kind of sonnet, all I want to do is read you! And I love you!”
“Love you too,” Patton said idly. “Which book is that from?”
Roman pouted. “I could have come up with it.”
“Mhm.” Patton kept mixing.
“…It’s from The Saga of Sir Galavant.” He said after a bit, still grumpily pouting. “A poem composed for his love who didn’t return his feelings.”
“Oh now that’s just silly,” Patton said, pouring the batter into the pan. “I return your feelings! You know that! You’re just being a grumpy gus because I didn’t know you had time off and already had plans.”
“It was supposed to be a surprise!”
“And it was a very nice surprise, honey,” Patton laughed a little. “I just wasn’t ready to cancel everything I was going to do.”
Patton heard Roman grumbling a little more before falling silent. He took it as a good sign and started leveling out the brownies. The oven was just almost hot enough to stick them in too so assuming that they cooked all the way through by the time the sundial reached it’s next mark-
Patton yelped a little as something grabbed him around the waist. He was spun around and dropped suddenly, Roman’s other arm catching him before he hit the floor. Roman looked into his eyes, his own full of longing and sadness and just the faintest twinkle of desire.
“My beloved,” Roman said, voice low enough to send a shiver up Patton’s spine. “Won’t you take some time for me?”
Patton swallowed, unsure and having a hard time thinking in general. “The- um- the brownies.”
“You’re almost done, just leave the rest in Toby’s hands.” Roman pleaded.
Patton hesitated for a moment more before relenting. He wound his arms around Roman’s neck and smiled softly.
“Oh alright.”
Roman’s face stretched into a wide grin. He pressed his and Patton’s lips together, giving patton a small taste of chocolate and an idea of who’d swiped batter earlier. Patton felt Roman’s other arm loop under his leg and his stomach swooped delightfully as Roman gathered him into his arms. He broke away from the kiss with a laugh.
“Toby?” He called. “Can you pop the brownies in the oven? They take one hour to cook at that temperature.”
“Yeah sure!” The royal chef called from elsewhere in the kitchen. “Why, what’s up?”
“I’ve just got some,” Patton paused. “Some royal duties to attend to.”
+1 ****
Patton frowned a little at Roman’s back. He’d been working so hard lately! Being king was taking its toll, especially since Thomas wasn’t ready to take up his slack yet. And people were very superstitious about anyone else helping their ruler so until Thomas was all trained up they were stuck.
But it was wearing on him. Patton could tell. The bags under his eyes were getting darker and he’d stopped taking the time to coiff his hair each morning. Patton was starting to get worried.
It didn’t help that on this particular night it was almost twelve and Roman was still huddled at his desk, doing paperwork.
Patton sighed and hopped off the bed carefully. He was an old pro at quiet footsteps, his long silk nightgown barely making a whisper as he made his way across the floor. He gently wrapped his arms around Roman from behind, nudging at his jaw with his nose.
“I know, I know.” Roman said tiredly, redipping his quill. “I’ll be in bed momentarily, I just need to finish this.”
Patton hummed a little. “Take your time, sweetie. I just wanted to offer you a little break.”
“Doing what?” Roman snorted a little. “Because if I so much as look at my pillow I’m going to be out for the rest of the night.”
Patton thought for a moment before straightening out and offering Roman his hand.
“Dance with me?” He asked. “…Please?”
Roman’s eyes flitted between Patton and his papers momentarily before he softened. He set his quill down with a sigh and accepted Patton’s hand.
He smiled. “I can never deny you anything, my love.”
Patton smiled back brightly and guided him up. They waltzed, no music but that in their hearts. No light but from the moon and the candle on Roman’s desk. No fancy clothes but Patton’s nightgown and Roman’s undershirt.
Roman’s head rested against his as they swayed. To and fro and back again. Gently, Patton guided Roman into a twirl, letting him drop and rest in his arms and kissing him as soft as the rose that made him fall in love.
They rose, Patton still cradling Roman in his arms as best he could and Roman on the brink of tears at his tenderness.
“Let’s go to bed, okay baby?” Patton whispered softly.
Roman nodded and let Patton blow out the candle and guide him under the covers. Patton embraced him once they’d settled, resting his lips against Roman’s forehead.
“I love you,” Roman said, voice choked from tears unshed. “You’re so- so good to me and I-”
“Shhhhhhhhhh,” Patton soothed. “I’m as wonderful to you as you are to me, my love. You may have been crowned king, but you’ll always be my Prince Charming.”
Hey everyone! I’m gonna open up prompts for the Cinderpatton au and post the responses for them on Valentines Day, so if you’ve got questions about it or little scenes you think would be cute or if you just want two people to smooch, shoot an ask my way! <3 Love yall!
His mother turned her scaled head and regarded him.
“The outside world is dangerous, Pet,” She said softly. “It’s full of wicked human beings who will never approve of you.”
Thomas tilted his head, confused. “I thought I was human?”
“Yes, but I, your mother, am not. For the grand crime of existing,the two of us would be hunted down and slain. They will cut us both to ribbons as soon as look at us.” She explained.
“Oh. Okay.”
Twelve
“Can I at least play in the grass?” He begged. “It’s just outside and nobody will see me, you can even keep watch!”
“No,” His mother said sharply. “I cannot risk the spells that keep you safe simply because you wish to frolic like a wood pixie simpleton.”
Tears trickled down Thomas’ cheeks. “I’m not a simpleton! And I’m sure the wood pixies aren’t either! You just hate anything that isn’t exactly like you!”
“No that is how they are!” His mother growled.
“Well, then you’re just like them!” Thomas yelled.
“Do not,” His mother thundered. “Dare to compare me to those horrible human beings. I am nothing so ignorant as them. To suggest as such would be an insult to not only witches, but to all of dragon kind.”
Thirteen
Thomas sniffled. “I hate you. You and this stupid tower! I hate you both!”
“Pet...” His mother warned, lips pinched and pointing downwards .
“No, I hate it!” He yelled. “I hate being trapped all the time and never having anyone to talk to! I hate you and your stupid rules! I just want to go outside but I can’t and I hate it!”
“Thomas say that word one more time and there will be conse-.”
“I HATE IT!”
His mother rose to her full height and grabbed him by the back of his shirt. She unceremoniously threw him into his bedroom and used her magic to ensure his curtain-door stayed shut.
Fifteen
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
Sixteen
“You aren’t my real mother, are you?” He asked.
“What is a mother?” She mused. “Someone who gives birth to you, or someone who raises you?”
“Raises you, I guess.” He said. “...Why did you raise me?”
She hummed thoughtfully. “Call it… justice.”
Nineteen
“Mom?”
She raised her head curiously in his direction. “Yes?”
“I think I like guys.” He said. “Not girls.”
“Alright.” she said. “Why is this relevant?”
Thomas shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought you should know, in case…”
“In case what?” She asked, condescendingly. “In case you leave and want to get married?”
Thomas flinched. “I- No. Just… I just didn’t want to- I wanted someone to know, I guess.”
Twenty-Two
“I just thought…” Thomas trailed off, staring at his reflection in the mirror. “I mean… it’s my birthday so I was just wondering if we could-”
He sighed to himself. “No. It- it’s too risky. She’d never approve no matter what argument I make. Forget a picnic, I’ll just… I’ll ask her for some more of those cookbooks.”
Twenty-Four
“Could you tell me about my birth family?” He asked. “Not that I don’t love you, I’m just… curious, that’s all.”
“They were horrendous people, Thomas.” She said, flipping through her book. “They hated the fae with a passion unparalleled. You are quite lucky I got you out of there before they had a chance to poison your mind as well.”
Thomas rolled over onto his stomach. “Yeah, but what… what else?”
“Don’t lay on the floor.” She chastised.
He sat up, climbing onto a nearby chair instead. He let it be quiet for a minute before speaking again.
“I make up stories about them sometimes.” He said.
His mother looked up sharply. “Stories? Why?”
He shrugged. “I mean, I don’t have a lot else to- I’m just curious is all. And you- well I know it’s dangerous to know too much, but I like to think about what they were like.”
“They were villains, Pet.” She said dismissively. “If you can’t understand that yet then perhaps you should rewrite your stories.”
“Yeah…”
She clicked her tongue gently. “And you wonder why I think you aren’t ready...”
Twenty-Seven
“Is the world ever going to be safe enough for me to leave?” He asked.
“Perhaps someday,” She said. “But I do not expect it to be anytime soon. I know it may not be ideal, but at least you’ll be safe. At least you’ll be alive.”
But when will I get to live?
SHOUTOUT TO MY BEAUTIFUL BETA: @mariniacipher, WITHOUT WHOM NONE OF THIS COULD HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE. Or at least not as coherent.
