Little five year old versions of the sides appear to be taken care of by them, and the little kids keep doing what they want and accidentally revealing things about themselves the sides now find embarrassing.
Baby Remus and Roman became seperate people like a week ago but they haven’t quite figured it out yet and so they are clingy very to each other
Baby Logan is so excited and curious about everything and refuses to sit still or be quiet and he asks so many questions and he gets so dirty from digging outside
Baby Virgil doesn’t talk but he gets happy light purple a lot easier since Thomas is younger with less worries, and then he gets very very giggly and cute
Baby Patton is so fussy and emotional and temperamental. He’s not mean but boy is he loud
Baby Janus sucks at lying….. so much. He’s fine for a kid but every single adult can read his emotions exactly
Everyone’s just trying to deal with the little kids while they do things that individually annoys and embarrasses each older version of them completely unintentionally
Janus walked into his son’s room, noting the sobbing pile of blankets on the bed. Janus plopped down and began rubbing small circles on what he guessed was Patton’s back, providing silent comfort. Eventually, Patton’s curly head poked out from his covers.
“What's wrong?” Janus murmured, swiping a tear off Patton’s cheek.
After a few gulping breaths, Patton sobbed out, “Th-the kids at school s-said that I’m ‘othing more th-than a cry baby,”
Janus enveloped Patton into a warm hug. “Little pebble, there is more to you than your tears.”
Janus stayed with Patton until crying gave way to snores.
In a human AU, the Sides are Thomas’s adopted children. Virgil is a chronically sleep-deprived teenager getting eaten alive by junior year. Patton has just started kindergarten and loves it. Sometimes they take naps together, because Patton is very cuddly and surprisingly good at getting Virgil to sleep.
Pairings: parental Moxiety, future Anxceit (literally none in this part, I’m just letting you know where it’s going)
Warnings: escaping an abusive relationship, aftermath of violence, blood and injury, murder, abusive government organization
Showing up on your enemy’s doorstep injured and in need of help trope
~~~START~~~
Virgil trudged through the dark streets, doing his best to avoid the streetlights as he went — he couldn’t risk anyone noticing that both he and the child he was carrying were covered in blood. He was exhausted, and his cracked ribs were screaming in protest with every step, but he couldn’t rest yet.
As a Registered Superhero™, Virgil — or Knightcaster, as he was more widely known — was a public figure. He lived in a government-funded home with a government-funded car and government-funded security; his son went to a secure, government-funded daycare; if he ever wanted a dog, he’d be able to get a trained government agent to be his dog-walker. Every aspect of Virgil’s life was funded by the government, and in return, Virgil and his husband (ex-husband?) stopped the city’s supervillains from wreaking havoc. It had seemed like a good deal when Orin — AKA Atlas — had convinced him to do it when he was eighteen.
And for seven years, it had been a good deal. But now Virgil was twenty-five, escaping an abusive marriage, and completely devoid of any kind of money.
Oh and the government was probably going to be after him soon for leaving his residence without permission (not to mention the dead body he’d left in the kitchen).
When he and Orin had signed up to be government-sponsored superheroes, they had to submit detailed lists of their powers, and were subject to thorough physicals to test the extent of them. Virgil’s powers, as listed by the government (and public knowledge to anyone who submitted a freedom of information act request), were light-manipulation level 9, teleportation level 4, and healing level 7; which basically means he’s really good at manipulating light — to the point of even being about to make it solid for up to an hour — alright at teleporting — he can only get to places he’s been to before or can see, and he can only teleport himself, but he can go pretty far — and can heal some pretty bad injuries completely — given enough time and energy.
Actually, all of those powers required a lot of energy, and in his injured and tired state, he couldn’t use them.
But he did have one power that the government didn’t know about, and since it was a mental power and not a physical one, he didn’t need to expend any energy to use it (it would leave him with a massive headache later, but Virgil would take headache over jail cell any day).
His dads used to call it his “homing beacon”, if he spent enough time around a person, he would form a bond with them that would allow him to follow a mental compass right to them. When he was younger he could use this on almost every kid in his class (not that he did), but as he hadn’t seen any classmates since high school graduation, the bonds were gone, faded beyond recognition. He could sense his dads, but they lived two states away, and he’d never be able to make it to them without teleporting — and even if he could, he wouldn’t be able to take his son with him.
His dads’ house was the first place the government would look for him anyway, they wouldn’t be safe there even if Virgil could get them that far.
Virgil hitched Patton a little higher on his hip. The toddler let out a small whimper in his sleep as the movement accidentally jostled his broken arm. Virgil placed a kiss on the boy’s hair, mentally promising him that his arm would be the first thing he healed once they were safe.
With his bonds to dads and any of his old friends either too far away or too faded, his son in his arms, and his bond to Orin severed as soon as that knife had pierced his heart, he was left with only his government handlers themselves, or the supervillains he fought repeatedly.
(And yeah, looking at it now, stumbling down the deserted streets, bleeding and carrying an injured toddler, Virgil could see how being a government-sponsored superhero was actually a crap deal. He didn’t have any money of his own, he had to fill out a thirty-page request form just to see his dads for two hours at a time, and he had no contact with anyone outside of work… It sucked. A lot.)
The government handlers were definitely out (though having a sense of where they were could definitely work in his favor), but the supervillains might not be too bad, they did work against the government after all.
Of Virgil’s repeated villains — and of the ones he thought might not just kill him on sight — there were three real options: Gemini, Dr. Frankenstein, or Serpentine. Luckily, Virgil could feel all three (well four) of their bonds coming from the same general direction, so he could continue moving while he made a decision.
Gemini had the power to duplicate themself, Virgil wasn’t sure how many duplicates they could make, but there were almost always two of them, hence the two bonds Virgil could feel leading to them. Gemini’s usual M.O. was hitting jewelry stores or museums (places with lots of shiny things for them to steal); they had a tendency towards property damage, but left civilians unharmed whenever they could.
Dr. Frankenstein could animate inanimate objects for a short time, as well as being a clearly gifted inventor. The man was cold and logical, but Virgil wasn’t sure which option would be more logical for him: help Virgil, who could be a valuable ally, and potentially give him government secrets; or take his revenge on an already injured enemy.
Serpentine was a master of illusion, both of the light projection, and mental variety. Their motives were a little bit harder to figure out, and as far as Virgil could tell, they were just as likely to rob a bank as they were to destroy a government building; but Virgil had a certain… rapport with them… he thought that they might…
They might not kill him if he showed up on their doorstep.
Patton whimpered again, his good hand gripping the collar of Virgil’s jacket tightly.
Virgil really hoped that Serpentine wouldn’t kill them when they showed up on their doorstep.
~~~END~~~
Part 2, Part 3, Part 3.5
ODD Masterlist
I wasn’t gonna post this until I finished the whole thing, but then I remembered that the whole reason I started posting fics on tumblr was so that I could post things that weren’t done yet
Anyway there will definitely be at least two more parts, so let me know if you wanna be on the taglist
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Words: 4,473
Warnings: Physical Health Discussion, Exercise Discussion, Financial Requirements Mention, Self-Defense, Food Mention, Passing Mention of homophobia
Characters: Roman, Patton, Virgil. Small Janus and Logan Sighting.
Universe: Whole Castle
Genre: Family Fluff
Additional Tags: Logan Sanders | Logic is Extra about Safety, Good Parenting for Nervous Children, Working out Big Feelings™ in a fun way, Familial/Platonic Physical and Verbal Affection, Virgil Sanders | Anxiety is a good big brother
Whole Castle
Chapter 24: Progress
Roman popped his head into Patton’s bedroom after knocking, and he sat at his table, poking around on his tablet. He didn’t normally pick the tablet over his other options, but he still wasn’t getting outside much. Patton only had educational games, so it was nice to see him playing with them on his own, but this was the fourth day in a row that he’d been sitting on the floor. The occupational therapist said that Patton wasn’t being active enough to catch up with his development.
“Patton, dear, do you want to go play on the trampoline or go to the park for a bit?” Roman offered softly. Patton shook his head in response, looking up at Roman with mild concern. Roman smiled back at him and said, “Alright, let me or Virgil know if you change your mind,” before closing the door behind him.
Roman crossed his arms and stood in the hall, wondering how to proceed. Patton wouldn’t enjoy going to a physical therapist, he knew he wouldn’t. But unless Virgil or Remus wanted to do something particularly physically involved, Patton just wasn’t interested in doing it. He tapped his chin and foot, leaning against the opposite hall for a moment. Remus was only taking violin at the moment, and he hates it, so Patton wouldn’t be interested. Roman found a ‘Fundamentals of Movement’ class for kids his age that was full of things he found fun, but without either Virgil or Remus going, he likely wouldn’t participate. Remus’s parents were very hard to convince of anything that wasn’t advanced, so he couldn’t rely on Remus attending a basics class for Patton. He didn’t know how long that unwillingness to participate was going to take to treat in therapy, either. Roman hummed in contemplation.
There might be a workaround. Something that will play to Patton’s little duckling instincts. It wasn’t surefire, but with any luck, it could be better for everyone. Roman headed farther down the hall and knocked on Virgil’s door. He could hear the TV playing softly inside. It took a moment and the TV noise paused, then Virgil called out that he could come in. Roman opened the door and saw Virgil lying on the bed with his feet up on the wall, watching TV upside down. Roman chuckled through his nose and came in, closing the door behind him so that Patton won’t hear and possibly get spooked by the discussion.
“What’s up?” Virgil asked lazily.
“Virgil, would you be interested in taking a class? Something like dance or martial arts? You seem a little cooped up in here, and it could be fun. It doesn’t have to be high pressure,” Roman asked carefully. He knew Virgil struggled with trying new things in the past and didn’t want to bring up those feelings again.
Virgil looked at Roman for a moment curiously before responding. “There’s a couple of classes I’d be interested in, but I didn’t think we had the money for that kind of thing,” Virgil replied carefully.
“I know my income is iffy at times, but we can afford it as long as it’s not too expensive,” Roman replied warily. Logan handled the budgets, so he couldn’t give specific numbers to be able to reply with, and Virgil often liked specifics for his anxiety. “But that does mean that it would be nice if I had a few options to find something we can afford as well as something that had a class for kids Patton’s age,” he clarified.
“Oh, you also want Patty out of the house? Thinking about committing crimes with Logan?” Virgil raised an eyebrow with a smirk.
“Be gay, do crimes,” Roman replied with a little shrug and a breezy smile. “Patton needs a little more exercise, and I think the best way to get him to do it is if it’s something you’re doing. I certainly wouldn’t want to deny you a fun class, either, but you never asked us about taking one. You’ll both be in different classes still because of the age groups, so you’ll still have you-time. And I’m sure Logan would try to sell getting Janus to go with you to the de—I mean, his mother—if you wanted that.”
“I call her devil-woman too sometimes,” Virgil whispered conspiratorially. “So you want me to go so Pat will go?” He asked, clearly bothered by that.
“No, I want you to go for you, and then if I am lucky, Patton will see you having fun and want to go to his own class. This is still your choice, other than the fact that we need to be able to afford it and get you there and back. If you had asked before now, we would have signed you up for something without considering him, but I’m asking now because if you have fun it might get Patton’s little need to be just like you all worked up enough so that he goes, is why I thought of it in the first place. But that doesn’t mean I’m forcing you to go to a class you didn’t choose or to attend at all.” Roman smiled at him, trying to be as reassuring as possible. He didn’t think that if he was Virgil’s age, he’d have liked the idea of having to go to get someone else to go, either.
“Oh. Okay,” Virgil accepted it very easily, much to Roman’s relief. “A mixed gender class. Aikido or Capoeira for martial arts. They’re both more defensive, which I’m kind of bad at. Kickboxing would be good, too, but I’m not sure Patty would like it. Gymnastics could be cool if the place has a lot of equipment, and it’s not just tumbling. Pat and I love playing the drums at the park, so that’s an option. No kinds of dance that aren’t a martial art. I’d be too uncomfortable, even if Pat might like it. Maybe when I’m older,” Virgil listed off, counting off on his fingers as he lay up on the bed.
“Goodness, Virgil, you’ve really thought this through,” Roman stated, rather bewildered by all the things that Virgil listed off, without looking at his phone or anything else to give him answers. He didn’t normally handle being put on the spot well for this kind of thing. Roman expected to have to get back to him at a later date.
“At least half my class is in those kinds of things. I’m mostly friends with the other scholarship kids, but I’ve heard about almost everything in the area. I kind of got jealous and looked it up, too. Feel kind of stupid for never asking, you’ve always tried to find a way to get me things I ask for, you even got that trampoline…” Virgil trailed off, looking up at the ceiling and dropping his hands to either side of him on the bed.
“It doesn’t have to be about the time, Virgil. Maybe we should have asked you, too. But we’re asking now, and we’ll see what we can do. Is there anything else you are interested in that you don’t think Patton would do?” Roman asked, just to make sure he felt like this was his decision.
“There’s a motocross class that’s pretty popular, but it sounds really expensive since the gear costs extra to rent, and you have to be at least 14 for it. It sounds extremely fun, though. There’s also a ninja-themed class that everyone talks about. You get trained to jump around and hide in the padded city in the gym. You can do stand-alone classes without signing up weekly. I’d do that just to get to see it. Everybody who’s been always raves about how fun it is,” Virgil answered quietly, noticeably uncomfortable with answering honestly.
Roman had to suppress a grimace at the motocross class. It was probably too expensive and would not pass by Logan’s silly protectiveness, but he was extremely positive that he could get Remy to take Virgil to the ninja class. Remy loved signing up Virgil for those day classes when they went out before they got Patton. If Roman chipped in a bit, maybe he could drag Janus along, too. But he had to come up with a way to distract Logan and Patton for that one so that Remy can Virgil-sit alone. Maybe some type of educational trip.
“You have a scheming face on,” Virgil pointed out, sounding very amused.
Requests: Analogince where they’re human and also single dads? And they all meet because their kids fought and got called to the principals office
Virgil's POV
Upsides to being a single father to a child with ADHD: you got to raise a beautiful, special boy with a sharp mind. You got to teach him all the coping mechanisms you'd painstakingly learned over the years to cope with his condition and watch as he lit up over the things that brought him joy. You got to watch as he zipped from topic to topic, brighter than the sun, mind racing at a million miles an hour. You got to be the first person to hear about his beautifully creative ideas. You got to have a reason for living, all yours and wonderful, that you didn't have to share with anyone else.
Downsides to being a single father to a child with ADHD: you had no one else to pass the buck to when he got in trouble at school.
"It'll be fine," I chanted to myself for the billionth time as I turned off the ignition and unbuckled myself, gripping the steering wheel and forcing deep, measured breaths. "It'll be fine. He probably won't get expelled for this. This is his first fight and you don't even know why he got into a fight. You didn't raise a bully, so he was probably defending himself or another kid." Terror clasped me around the throat and squeezed. "But what if you did raise a bully and you didn't realize it, and now you've sentenced your son to a life of crime trying to make up for the hole in his heart where his father should have loved him oh God I broke my son!"
Immediately, my therapist's voice spoke up in my mind. You're catastrophizing again, he said in that obnoxiously aware, gentle way of his. Calm down. Take it one step at a time.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, focusing on the feeling of my stomach and then my chest expanding with air. I let it out through pursed lips, a quiet whistle in the exhale.
I'd played through scenarios like this a million times in my mind. The second Cassie told me, five months pregnant with tears streaming down her cheeks, that she didn't want the baby, I'd prepared myself for any possibility. I'd created contingency plans and contingency plans for my contingency plans, because I knew how much harsher the world would be on him. With a grandparent, his biological mother, and me all with ADHD, there hadn't been any doubt Drew would get it, too, and I'd prepared for that. I'd prepared for the possibility that poor grades and emotional dysregulation would put him on the back foot and even get him expelled. I'd taught him all the coping mechanisms I could. I'd tried to show him as much love and patience as I could muster, and I'd show him the same now. We'd get through this. We would make it through this.
I nodded, resolute, even as doubt and worry niggled at the back of my mind. I'd raised Drew alone, without any support from my parents or Cassie, working a call center job that barely paid enough to live off of. I'd demanded a child psychiatrist the second Drew started displaying symptoms and beat the system for the help he deserved. I'd beat the system for the help I deserved. I was a badass. I was a badass.
I got out of the car.
The two people at the front desk--a woman with strawberry blonde hair and a baby-faced guy--looked over, presumably torn from their conversation, when I walked through the door. The woman swiveled her chair to face me with a friendly smile. "Hello there," she said. "How may I help you?"
I forced myself to look her in the eyes and strained through a smile. If you act like a weirdo, it'll just make things worse for Drew. "Hey," I said. "I'm, uh...Drew Griffith's father. You called me and--"
"Oh!" She gestured to the side, at a door that read: PRINCIPAL MOROZOV. "He's in there."
I looked over and gulped, staring in fear at the door. "Say, uh..." I smiled at the woman as politely as I could. "You wouldn't happen to know the correct social etiquette for talking to the principal after your son gets into a fight at school, would you?"
She gave me a funny look. "Huh?"
"Never mind." I hung my head in defeat and commenced the walk of dread to the front door of the office. The wall facing me was all glass, which meant I could see inside. Two adults, one natural-haired in a polo shirt with his arm around one of the kids in the chair beside him and the other behind a desk, looking stern. I couldn't see the other two kids or any other adults.
And then Principal Morozov spotted me through the glass and shit, I was out of time.
I took a deep breath and opened the door. "Sorry it took me so long," I said, hoping that was the right thing to say. "It was hard getting off work."
"It's all right," Principal Morozov said. "We haven't even reached Mr. Accardo yet."
"Hey, Dad," came the halfhearted voice of Drew, hidden behind a chair too big for him, especially when he slumped in it like that.
I peered over the top and smiled at him softly. "What the heck, kid?" I asked.
"He called Patton a freak." Drew pointed at the kid in the middle, with a busted nose and--oh God.
He had scattered burn marks across the right side of his face, with two differently-colored eyes and a scowl.
"So of course you had to beat me up," the kid sneers. "Because that's a perfectly rational, healthy thing to do."
The third kid--Patton, I presumed--bounced in his seat, humming in distress. His father, a man wearing glasses and a polo shirt with a tie, rubbed his back.
"I don't see why my son has to be here," the other father said, looking at Principal Morozov. "He didn't do anything."
“Patton sits alone at lunch time and doesn’t have any friends,” the principal said. “We think if he tried to get along with his peers better, he’d have a happier time here.”
“Or, you know, you could make an effort to teach your students not to bully kids who are different from them,” I grumbled.
“What was that, Mr. Griffiths?”
I hesitated, glancing up at Principal Morozov, then back at Drew. On one hand, I wanted to lead by example: teach Drew that it was okay to stand up to authority for what he believed. On the other, sometimes, you had to pay lip-service to authority just to stay out of trouble. It was a lesson no child had the mental capacities to understand, but I supposed I’d have to do my best to teach him, because if I gave Principal Morozov cheek, he might expel Drew.
“Nothing, sir,” I said, feeling like a child cowering beneath the glare of my teachers again. I prepared to search for the bullshit in the story I was about to get fed and asked, “What happens now?”
"I'd prefer to wait for Mr. Accardo," the principal said.
"Roman teaches at a high school," the bully grumbled, slouched over with a glare fixated on the desk. "He's probably in the middle of class."
"Then you're going to have to stay after school to address this," Principal Morozov told him sternly.
"Whatever."
I had a very bad feeling about that kid. The scars on his face told a frightening story. He could just as easily be bullied for those as Drew got bullied for his ADHD and Patton for being a loner, which probably meant he turned that abuse outward and attacked others for their perceived differences in a never-ending cycle of abuse.
What? I could be bad at people and have a special interest in human psychology. Those two things were not mutually exclusive.
Suddenly, the door banged open. I jumped out of my skin, clamping a hand over my chest and struggling to breathe levelly, eyes crushed shut and body frozen. Then I heard the babbling.
"I'm sorry!" The principal's door opened. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. The kids were in the middle of rehearsal and--Janus, what happened? I'm so sorry, Mr. Morozov." A frazzled man with warm skin rushed inside and sat down next to the bully--Janus--hastily hugging him and turning his attention to the principal.
I frowned at the scene. I withheld judgment and looked at Principal Morozov as he said, "All right. Now that you're all here, there are going to be some serious consequences to what happened today."
********
"I can't believe you let him give me detention!" Drew whined. "Janus deserved to get punched!"
"And you deserve to die abandoned and unloved in a ditch, steeping in your own feces," Janus snapped.
"Janus," his father, Roman, said firmly, kneeling down and taking him by the shoulders. Janus tried to turn away from him, but Roman lightly shook him and made him meet his eyes. He softened. "I know how much you're hurting, but a hero never redirects his pain onto others. There are other ways."
"What if I don't want to be a hero?" Janus snapped. "What if I want to be the bad guy?"
"I don't believe that," Roman said gently, adjusting his bangs. "I don't think you do, either."
Janus turned from him sharply, crossing his arms and glaring at the asphalt. He sniffled.
Drew glanced up at me in confusion and I rubbed his back. "Sometimes," I said gently, "when people are hurting, they deal with that by hurting other people."
"That's stupid," Drew said with the blunt confidence of a ten-year-old.
"Maybe a little," I agreed, "but humans aren't always logical." Drew wrinkled his nose. "I know. It's so annoying, but it's true. You're not always logical, either. Remember when you burst out crying because your pencil broke?"
"Dad!" Drew turned bright red.
Roman chuckled. "So." He stood up and crossed his arms. "You're the little rascal who dared challenge Janus to a duel for--Patton, right?" He looked at Mr. Davis--or Logan, as he'd introduced himself--who nodded. "You're the rascal who challenged Janus to a duel for Patton's honor," Roman finished.
"He was being an asshole," Drew protested.
"I'd say it's not my fault he uses that language," I said through a wince, "but it's definitely my fault he uses that language."
"I'm the same way with Janus, don't worry." Roman chuckled--a low, rumbly sound. He turned back to Drew. "You're got a paladin's heart and a temper. I was a lot like you when I was a kid."
Drew snorted. "You think you're cute, don't you?"
"He's always like this," Janus said, shoving in front of Roman. "He thinks it's so inspiring to talk about heroes all the time, like fairy tales are the best thing ever."
"That's gotta be annoying," Drew said, wrinkling his nose.
"It is." Janus stopped and scowled. "Don't relate to me!"
"Ew! You're a jerk! Get away from me!"
I exchanged a fond, exasperated look with Roman, who chuckled and squeezed Janus' shoulder. "Hey," he said, "maybe, if you apologized, you could have a friend."
"I don't want to apologize."
"So you'd rather another kid think you're a horrible person!"
Janus hesitated a moment before straightened his back. "Yes."
"I don't believe that."
I glanced over at Logan and saw that he was busy talking to Patton, kneeling on the ground and smoothing his hands over his shoulders in measured strokes. It seemed to soothe Patton. I looked at Drew.
"You know how it sometimes hurts you when you think about your Aunt Cassie?" I said softly, pulling him into my side as the shadow washed over his face.
"He called Patton a freak, Dad," Drew argued. "He's not even really my friend, but he's not a freak. He's just...different. Like me."
"I know, kiddo," I said, squeezing him against my side. "You don't have to give him a chance. He hasn't asked forgiveness, and you wouldn't owe him one even if you did. I just know you don't like to see people struggling alone."
Drew hesitated.
I looked over at Logan. "How's Patton?"
Logan glanced back at me, then looked at Patton. "Do you want to answer?"
Patton hesitated.
"It's okay," I said, not looking at his face. Patton hadn't made eye contact with a single person, including his father, since I'd met him. He clearly had more trouble with it than I did, and I wasn't always a huge fan. "I'm autistic, too."
Patton immediately perked up. "Really?"
"Yeah." I smiled, looking over the top of his head. I looked at Drew. "Can I tell him about you?"
"I'm ADHD," Drew told him, turning to him. "I got diagnosed last year."
"Oh cool!" Patton flapped his hands at his sides and bounced eagerly. "I don't, I don't think, because I'm actually pretty good at focusing most of the time and I have a really good memory, but Dad says autism and ADHD are really close together. It's really nice to meet someone else! I don't have many friends."
"Well, I guess you have me," Drew said. "I didn't get in trouble defending you for nothing."
Patton squealed and continued stimming enthusiastically. Drew offered a hug, which Patton considered for a long moment before accepting.
Logan smiled softly at the exchange and looked over to me. "You've raised a very kind son."
"More than half of it is all him," I said. "I do the best I can, but...I'm just one person. He's probably gonna hate me once he's a teenager."
"Nuh-uh!" Drew objected, charging over to embrace me around the middle. I smiled and hugged him close, squeezing him as tight as was safe. He grunted.
I caught Janus staring at us. I couldn't read his expression. He was glaring, but I had a feeling it wasn't anger. But clearly, Roman did understand it, because he knelt down and hugged him close, even when he tried to push him away. He just held fast. I thought for sure Janus would react badly--he hadn't wanted to be held, what was wrong with Roman?--but then he slowly relaxed and leaned against him. I still couldn't read him very well, but that...didn't look particularly resigned.
"You know," Roman said, pulling back after a long while, "I bet Drew and Patton would be willing to forgive you if you really, really earnestly apologized."
Janus shoved away from him, crossing his arms and glaring at the ground. "I don't want to apologize."
Roman sighed heavily, and Drew whirled on him. "You're such a freaking jerk!" he screamed. "What's wrong with you? Why do you have to be a jerk to everyone? I tried to be your friend and you just spit on me!"
"I don't want your pity!"
"It wasn't pity!"
"It's always pity!" Janus screeched. "You think I don't know what these scars make me? You think I don't know I'm a freak? If the fire didn't teach me that, then my parents sure did! I'm nothing! The only reason anyone would be nice to me is pity and I don't want anyone's pity! I just want to be left alone!"
Janus turned and ran. Roman chased after him frantically, never sparing Logan or I a glance.
Drew and Patton stood stunned. Drew looked at Patton, who stared at his forehead. "Well..." he said. "What the heck am I supposed to do now?"
Patton ran in the direction of Janus.
At that point, about the only thing for Drew and I to do was chase after his new friend, hot on the heels of his father.
We found Patton with his backpack unzipped, standing beside Janus' car door, already buckled in with Roman partway into the driver's seat, holding out a picture of a flower.
"It's ivy," Patton said. "It means friendship."
Janus stared at him through the window, unmoving. Patton, to my shock, held his gaze for one, two moments and then averted his eyes. Logan hurried over to hold him, clearly expecting Janus to reject him again.
Janus opened the car door. "Why would you want to be my friend?"
"He didn't say he wanted to be your friend," Drew sneered. "He just said it meant friendship, dummy."
"Drew," I chided softly, and he recoiled into my side.
"Because it's nice to know I'm not the only one who can't make any friends," Patton said. "I like having other friends who are special."
"I'm not special," Janus snapped.
"Dad says that being different is always special, because different people have discovered some of the coolest, prettiest things ever."
"It's true," Logan said. "Albert Einstein, Hans Christian Anderson, and Michelangelo. were all autistic."
"See?" Patton bounced and beamed at Janus. "So maybe we can all be different and special together and do really cool things one day! Like the three Musketeers."
Janus considered strongly. "I'm Athos."
"You can be whoever you want to be!" Patton said earnestly. "Then we can all have lots of musketcheer."
Drew, Roman and I choked on a laugh. Logan shook his head fondly. "He watches one sitcom that likes puns and he suddenly won't stop," he said.
Even Janus cracked a small smile. He accepted the paper. "Fine," he said. "We can have musketcheer."
Drew pouted. "Does this mean I'm your friend now?"
"Yes," Patton said firmly, looking at him.
Drew jumped, looking fearfully at Patton, who somehow managed to look intimidating while also avoiding eye contact. He looked up at me. "What have I done?" he asked.
"Made friends." I rubbed his back. I looked around. "We should probably get all these guys home. They've had a long day, and school will be letting out soon."
"I guess now that all our kids are friends, I'll be seeing more of you," Roman said to both Logan and me.
Logan hummed. "I presume so. Patton does not own a phone of his own. I can give you my number if your children wish to contact him?"
"I hate to say it, but you should probably get him his own phone," I said. "It's dangerous not to have one. If I ever lost sight of Drew...I'd rather he have a phone."
Logan considered this. "I suppose you have a point. Nevertheless, for the moment, you'll have to go through me to reach Patton."
"Don't have to ask me twice. Here." Roman accepted Logan's phone and typed in Janus' number, then passing it to Drew, who stared at it for a moment.
I recited his number to him and he punched it in. "Don't worry, kid," I said. "One day, you're going to have to tell so many doctors your number that it's going to be emblazoned on your brain."
After all numbers had been exchanged, I shook Logan's and Roman's hands goodbye and let Patton and Drew embrace again. Janus stayed stubbornly in his seat, refusing any sort of affection, which kind of concerned me, but then Roman whispered, "This is the most receptive he's been since I started fostering him."
I nodded and smiled, leading Drew back toward the car. He looked at me. "I guess I have friends now."
I glanced back toward Roman's car as it drove away and caught Logan's eye as he loaded into his own. He smiled at me.
