An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
The apartment smelled like vanilla and cinnamon by the time Virgil realized he could no longer feel his feet. But that was just the baseline, wasn't it? Patton needed a bake-sale savior, Logan needed an art gallery companion, Roman needed an audience—and Virgil was always, without fail, the fluid that filled the cracks to keep their world from collapsing.
He made showing up look like an instinct rather than a choice. But lines blur when you're running on four hours of sleep and shots of espresso, and eventually, the engine has to seize.
(Or: A boy who has spent years showing up for everyone else experiences someone else showing up.)
Synopsis: As a joke, Roman's forced to ask Virgil out after losing an oreo. Flustered, and somewhat embarrassed and humiliated by the connotation that dating him would be such a bad thing, he says yes out of impulse, and must now deal with what being Roman's "boyfriend" entails.
Taglist: @renys @falsemood
Part Twelve: Thanksgiving Break
Masterlist
"Does your extended family know we're... fake dating?" Virgil asks, as he kneels on the floor stressing over what shoes he wants to wear. He has a pair of dark sneakers that go with everything, but he also has purple converse he likes way more. Though a miniscule decision, to Virgil it feels intense at the moment, since Roman's eyes are on him, and Roman's somewhat dressed up.
He'd already assured Virgil that him dressing up for Thanksgiving dinner was solely to feel nice about himself, and Remus and all of his cousins were likely not going to look nearly as well-groomed, but seeing as this is the first time Virgil's meeting so much of Roman's extended family, he kind of wants to make a good impression.
"Yes," Roman affirms, sitting back on Virgil's bed. His eyes are fixated on Virgil, though he looks away every time Virgil turns to glare at him for staring.
"Okay, and by 'yes,' you mean they don't know it's fake, and they think it's real, right?"
"I think so." Roman tilts his head up to the ceiling. "Remus might have told them our relationship started because of a game, but I guess that doesn't give them any reason to think it's any less real."
Virgil eventually settles on the converse, and pulls them on quickly, lacing them loosely. "Okay."
"What does it matter whether they know we're dating or not?" Roman then asks, which stuns Virgil a bit.
His cheeks go pink, and he slumps over slightly, accidentally knotting his laces and having to pull at the strings to undo them. "It doesn't matter," he eventually stammers out. "I just wanted to know whether or not we had to... pretend. Or if we could just go as acquaintances. You know, instead of as boyfriends."
"You don't have to be lovey-dovey with me if you don't want to," Roman assures him, a sweet smile on his face. He looks amused at Virgil's words, but doesn't acknowledge how utterly ridiculous they sound. "Dad's side of the family are... odd in the ways they show affection, so holding hands and hugging won't even elicit a glance."
Frowning, Virgil stands and brushes off his jeans. "What makes you think I'd want to hold hands with you anyway?"
Roman slides off the bed and startles Virgil again as he wraps his arms around him. His hold on Virgil is loose enough for Virgil to squirm away if he wants to, but Virgil doesn't. "Probably the fact you seem to let me all the time," comes Roman's muttered reply, "or the fact you reach for me almost as often as I reach for you."
Though flustered, Virgil eventually pushes Roman away. "Gross. I don't do that because we're dating. Just... because it's grounding."
It's not entirely a lie, but Virgil's not necessarily having an anxiety attack every time he reaches for Roman's hand either. Still, it's enough of an answer to shut Roman up, who instead looks past Virgil and into his closet.
He reaches in there, and grabs a black jacket, though frowns upon seeing the plethora of holes in it.
"Oh..." he sighs, "I really liked the style of this one."
Virgil takes the hoodie from Roman's hands, and thumbs over it. "I did too. Why do you think it's all ruined?" His fingers slip through a small hole, and then his entire hand is shoved through a larger one. "I would wear it like... every day, and over time natural wear and tear ate at it."
"If you liked it so much, why not buy a replacement?"
Virgil looks hurt at the idea. "It's... sentimental. This specific one."
Roman's lips press together into a thin line, but then he pushes around Virgil to inspect the holes. "Why not patch them, then? Some of these rips are small enough to be sewn up, and the rest could easily be fixed with some fabric. You could do something cool with it, like use a bunch of different patterns to create a sort of punk look, or you could use typical black cloth so it blends in."
Roman looks like he's going to suggest a few more things, but he doesn't. And though Virgil wants to encourage him to finish what he was saying, he doesn't actually.
He doesn't know if he's... ready to patch the jacket up. If he did, then would it even be the same jacket anymore?
"You could always just wear it as is," Roman then says, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "I think that the tears don't make it any less cool. And it's getting chilly outside, but not that chilly, so there's a reason to wear a jacket but no real pressure to make sure it keeps you warm, and honestly it'll fit right in with my cousins-"
Virgil doesn't acknowledge his apology, but he does bring the jacket to the bathroom. He pulls it on over his tee, and then stands back against the wall to observe as much of his outfit as possible in the mirror. Roman lingers in the doorway.
"You look nice," Roman quietly compliments, but Virgil just rolls his eyes.
"I don't look any different than I normally do."
Roman takes a cautious step into the bathroom, not wanting to invade Virgil's space, but Virgil doesn't shrink away. "That's not entirely true," Roman argues, as his fingers curl around a strand of Virgil's hair. "Your hair's gotten longer, for one. And- and you're wearing this new jacket! One I've never seen you wear before! And I think comprehensively, you look stunning!" Roman looks at the two of them in the mirror. Roman himself isn't completely done up, but he's definitely not in his normal wear. He's wearing a freshly-ironed button up with red dress pants, and dress shoes. He looks significantly fancier than Virgil does, and it causes Virgil to slump slightly.
But then, Roman says "but I guess you're somewhat right. It's still you. Regardless of what your hair looks like or the shirt you're wearing... it's you beneath all of it. And... you're nice."
Virgil's face goes red, and after a few minutes he pushes Roman away from him. "And you're a sap," he hisses, before quickly running his fingers through his head. "And didn't you say everyone was going to start arriving by four? We should probably get going."
"It's only two."
"Isn't it an hour drive?" Virgil brings his hand to his mouth, and bites down hard on his nails. "Fuck, I didn't... make anything. Is it like a potluck thing? Should I have bought a cake from the store, or something?"
"Nah," Roman immediately assures him, "my grandma would flip her lid if you brought something. She enjoys making a spread with the cousins, and likes Thanksgiving to be a time where all of them can show off their culinary tricks. And then when they come down for Christmas, that's when my dads, Remus, and myself are in charge of cooking. Or baking, in my case." He sets his hand on Virgil's lower back, and walks with Virgil back to his room, where Virgil then quickly fetches his phone and his house keys. "You can make something for that, if you want. We've been dating for how many months now? Six?"
Virgil rolls his eyes. "Three."
"Three," Roman repeats, before taking Virgil's hand in his as he pulls him downstairs and to the door. "And it'll be four by Christmas, so you're practically family."
"I can't guarantee I'll make anything decent," Virgil immediately warns. "I don't have a ton of practice."
As Roman holds the front door open for Virgil, he inquires "you don't cook while your dad's away for work?"
"Not really." He climbs into the passenger seat of Roman's car, and adjusts his seat in preparation for the hour-long drive. "I just order out, go out to eat with Janus and Logan, or crash at one of their places and eat dinner with their families. I mean, I've definitely cooked before, but not an actual dinner. I can make a mean omelette, but I don't think that's an appropriate thing to bring to a Christmas potluck."
"Maybe we can make something together, then," Roman proposes, as he starts the car.
The offer sits in the air as they pull away from Virgil's house, and begin the drive to Roman's grandma's.
"I think Remus is driving separately, and Dad and Papa are already there," comes Roman's voice, filling the silence with bland chatter. "Remus might beat us, but that's just because he loves his cousins. And we're going to have to park in the field, because Grandma's driveway is going to be packed with big trucks and vans. Even if my cousins carpool, there's still a lot of them."
"How do you have so many? Do you have a lot of aunts and uncles?"
Roman smiles sheepishly. "No. Dad's an only child. Most of our cousins are second cousins. My grandma was a twin, and her twin went ham on having kids... and some of those kids have had kids! Which I think makes them third cousins?" His brows furrow in confusion, but eventually he shrugs and continues "after Grandpa died, Grandma got remarried, and her current wife also has a bunch of kids. Which I think are technically aunts and uncles-in law? Is that how that works?"
"I have no clue."
Roman, equally as unsure, just says "there's a lot of family, both blood-related and married in. I'm convinced there are a few strangers who sneak in every year too, and just become part of the crew due to how well they mesh."
Virgil already knew there'd be a lot of people attending, but the idea of there being an excessive amount causes his chest to feel tight. "Sounds... exciting."
Turning slightly to him, Roman reaches for one of Virgil's hands, and takes it firmly in his own. "There will be some empty rooms around the house if you ever need a break for the chaos. God knows I do sometimes."
Perking up slightly, Virgil asks "you... take a break from your family?"
"Yeah." Roman smiles. "Even like... my dads, sometimes. I know they love me, but sometimes I need to be alone. And the same goes for my cousins. Though, with them it's... a little different."
"Different how?"
Slowly, Roman's smile fades, and he looks a little uncomfortable. He goes to respond, but hesitates, looking between Virgil and the road as he debates whether or not he actually wants to answer. "Uh..." he breathes, before sighing. "Look... I... I wasn't always a great person. Not to the people around me, the rest of my family, or... Remus." His fingers tap rapidly against the steering wheel as Roman keeps his eyes glued to the road - not out of a direct need to drive safely, but because he doesn't want to look at Virgil. "I can recognize that now, but for years and years I refused to see anything wrong with my behavior. My mom always told me I was special. I was important. I was better than Remus. Everything became a comparison between us, where I was always on top, but she made it clear that position at the top was conditional."
Roman swallows the spit in his mouth, and then squeezes Virgil's hand. "I said and did a lot of really gross things to make myself feel good. To... to reaffirm to myself that I was better than Remus." His face is pale, and his eyes look wet. "You can only say you're sorry so many times before it starts to feel more like a plea for forgiveness than an actual admission of guilt."
He makes a turn a lot sharper than he normally would, causing Virgil to grip his seatbelt tightly.
"But back to my cousins," Roman then segues, shaking his head back and forth to try and clear his mind. "Remus was always really close with them, and our grandma. He'd tell them everything; he wasn't even trying to get me in trouble, he would just be talking casually about our lives, but since I was so awful to him, it caused them all to have a very warped perception of me."
Virgil shifts in his seat. "That... must really suck."
"It did suck. For a while." Roman sighs again. "I've had to do a lot to get them to see I'm not my mom. Not anymore. There are still a few cousins who think it's all a facade, and that I'm incapable of change, and I don't really blame them. But Remus isn't really hostile towards me anymore, which has quelled a lot of their anger, I think." He looks unconvinced. "I'm not... sure, though. Maybe they're just being civil? Maybe I'm still horrible and I've just convinced myself that I'm not, but everyone can see that I haven't actually changed. And by claiming I have I'm lying to everyone, which is exactly the kind of thing my mom would do, so maybe I am her-"
"Roman."
Roman jumps - actually jumps in his seat - and whips towards Virgil. He wears a meek, embarrassed smile, but it's hardly genuine. "Sorry. I was rambling again, wasn't I?"
Virgil nods, before hesitantly starting "you've... brought up your mom a few times since we saw her. Was that the first time you'd seen her in a while?"
"It was the first time I'd been alone with her in a while," Roman clarifies. "Remus and I still had to see her, and there technically is a court order in place mandating visits, but I think Dad and Papa have scared her into accepting what we want. But before that we... we'd only meet her in public, and we'd always have our dads there. So there wasn't much she could do." He laughs bitterly. "I don't know. She didn't even hit me. It shouldn't have affected me like it did. It's just... all confusing, because Remus can be so nonchalant about everything, and it makes me feel stupid and conceited for getting so worked up about everything. Especially because I believed her and acted just like her for years, so who am I to suddenly reject the rhetoric I was also preaching and pretend like I'm a good son and a good brother and a good person when I'm barely even good at all."
He lets go of Virgil's hand so he can curl both sets of fingers around the steering wheel, which he holds tight to.
Virgil doesn't say anything at first, and so Roman speaks before he gets the chance. "Sorry, I know that's kind of a lot." He doesn't meet Virgil's eyes. "I promise that even if my cousins actively want me dead, they'll be nice to you. They're going to love you, honestly. I'm sure of it."
"If they're still treating you badly, I don't want their adoration," Virgil utters. "If you're changing and they refuse to acknowledge that, then that's kind of shitty."
"I don't think it's shitty. I think it's... their perception. Not everyone has to forgive me for the mistakes I've made. Even if I wish everyone would, I was kind of an entitled brat, and that sort of condescension isn't hard to just forget." They make it out of town, and onto a long stretch of country road that's practically a straight shot to their Thanksgiving destination. "Honestly, I don't even think Remus should have forgiven me. And he never outright said he did, so maybe he hasn't?" He seems stressed at the possibility.
"I'm sure he has," comes Virgil's not-so-sure voice. Remus has been... less annoying to Virgil (luckily, it seemed Roman didn't tell anyone he and Virgil had kissed, otherwise Virgil's sure Remus would have harassed him over it by now), but that doesn't mean Virgil likes him any more. He's still associated with a lot of bad points in Virgil's life. But Roman seems to care about him, and Virgil feels the instinctive need to assure him. "I feel like if he still thought you were a dick he'd have no problem saying it."
A small smile tugs at the corner of Roman's lips. "I suppose you're right."
They go quiet after that, but Virgil's hand is grabbed once more, squeezed as Roman whistles and hums for the rest of the drive.
It's only when a large house comes into view with both the driveway and surrounding grass lined with cars does Virgil sit up slightly, muttering "holy shit" under his breath, eliciting a chuckle from Roman.
They have to park a decent walk from the house, but once they do they walk hand in hand onto the gravel driveway, and up to the front door. In the backyard - that's less of a backyard and more of an untilled farm field - he can already see multiple kids of varying ages running around in the dirt. Most of them are clad in dark clothing with bright hair, and chunky boots they're almost tripping over. But once they get inside, Virgil realizes that's the norm.
Despite the house seeming big, the amount of people within it makes it feel incredibly cramped, with a bunch of punk, alternative, and goth adults and children filling the space.
"I see what you mean when you said they get along great with Remus," Virgil shakily states, making Roman grin.
Though, noticeably, he's shrunk a little, more slumped over as he pulls Virgil through the crowd. The entrance they went through led them directly into the living room which is obviously where most of the family is, but Roman brings them to the kitchen instead.
There, there's a lot more adults and older teens, but bent over an oven is a clearly much older woman, next to another, shorter, old woman.
"Grandma!" Roman exclaims, and the woman bending over the oven turns to look at him.
"Hush up, Roman!" she immediately scolds, though Roman isn't deterred by her harsh tone. "You'll scare all the flavor right out of the turkey!"
The other woman laughs and waves her hand dismissively, but shuffles towards Roman with slow, small steps. "Don't listen to your grandma, hun," she soothes him, as she reaches up to grab Roman's face. Roman bends down, and she kisses his cheek. "You know she gets all superstitious."
"I know, Nan."
"Shhh!" Grandma points at Nan, and then back at Roman. "The two of you are too close to the oven! You're too loud! Shoo!"
Visibly amused, Nan backs away from the oven, guiding Roman and Virgil away. "She'll come say hi when she's done, I'm sure," she says, as Roman and Virgil are led into a side room. It's empty, as most of the cousins are intermingling elsewhere. "Now Roman, how have you been sweetheart! And who's this lovely fellow?" She turns to Virgil, and takes his hands in hers, squeezing them tightly.
Virgil gives her an awkward smile, as Roman explains "Nan, this is Virgil. My boyfriend."
"Oh! This is him!" She shakes Virgil's hands up and down with that reserved excitement only an older woman can express. "Virgil, we've heard so much about you!"
Roman waves towards his nan. "Virgil, this is my nan. She's my grandma's wife."
"Half the kiddos you'll spot running around are mine. And half the proper kiddies are my sweet grandbabies. And Roman's lovely cousins! Speaking of, have you seen your brother around, Roman? He ran outside with a group of pre-teens, and I think they might be searching for roadkill..." She looks towards the doorway. "One of my daughters is looking for him; she has a pair of boots she's been looking to donate, and she thinks Remus will like them."
"Haven't crossed paths with him yet," Roman responds. "I'll send him your way if I see him, though."
"Thanks, sweetheart."
Then, Roman's grandma enters the room, wiping her wet hands on her jeans as though she just finished washing them. Her face is twisted into a permanent scowl. She stares at Roman expectantly. "The hell are you waiting for?" she finally spits. "Come give me a damn hug before I thwack you upside the head."
Roman does just that, gleeful as he bends down to hug his grandma, and receptive to the aggressive pinches then administered to his cheeks.
"You look like you're still playing football," she grumbles, which has Roman meekly shrugging.
"Hopefully not for much longer."
"Good. That sport fucking sucks anyway." She tilts Roman's head back and forth, inspecting him in a close manner. And Roman just lets her, as he's completely used to it by now.
Once she lets him go, she turns towards Virgil, and grabs his face too. "This your boyfriend?"
A bit more embarrassed now, Roman rubs the back of his head. "Yes, Grandma."
"Isn't he a cute one?" Nan sighs. "He fits right in with the rest of the family!"
"He looks thin," Grandma huffs. "He could use some potato salad." She turns to face the open door, and then shouts "David! Get in here! And bring a big bowl of 'tato salad!"
Roman's face lights up with pride at making a correct estimate on his father’s arrival times. "How long have they been here?"
"They practically woke up here," Nan explains. "They were kind enough to come help us set up. Got here far before your grandma was even awake."
Quickly, David scurries in, holding what looks like a mixing bowl half-full with potato salad. His face is glistening with sweat, and he's panting slightly. "Bruce and I were all the way upstairs, Ma," he complains lightly, but looks happy when he sees Roman and Virgil. "Roman! You decided to bring Virgil!"
Roman's hand curls around Virgil's waist in a manner that makes Virgil blush. "I did!"
"Are you sure you're not pulling him away from time with his own family?"
Shaking his head, Roman explains "his dad's still away."
David frowns, and Virgil feels awkward at the clear displeasure that's written across Roman's father's countenance. But, after a minute he sighs, and gives Virgil a look that's a mixture of compassion and pity. "Well, we're glad you're here," he says. "You're practically part of the family anyway."
Virgil shifts his weight back and forth on his feet. "Funny. Roman said the same thing."
Roman squeezes his hip.
Then, David looks towards his mother. "What'd you need the potato salad for?"
"For Virgil," she insists, as she pulls the bowl from David's hands and shoves it into Virgil's. "He's as thin as a broomstick! I don't understand how he's even able to stay standing with so little meat on his bones! His scrawny legs are seconds away from collapsing!"
"Oh, be nice," Nan huffs, lightly patting Grandma's shoulder in a reprimanding manner. She then motions to the bowl. "That is all yours to eat though, hun. And don't be worried about taking from the rest of us; there's more than enough food to go around."
Virgil cradles the bowl in one arm, and picks up a forkful to be polite. It does taste delicious, but Virgil has a surplus amount in his hands. "This is amazing," he compliments, but passes the bowl to Roman (who also quickly takes a bite, seemingly starving after the drive), "but I don't think I'll be able to eat the whole bowl."
"You should still try," Grandma declares. "So you won't blow away tonight while walking back to Roman's car."
"Oh, Mom," David scolds, "quit it. Virgil, don't overeat. You'll have plenty more to dig into at dinnertime. Speaking of which, how much longer on that ham?" He grabs his mom by the front of her shirt, and pulls her out of the room quickly, with just enough time for Virgil to hear her huff out "I don't know! Go ask..." before the two of them go opposite directions.
Nan lingers back. "I can take that salad from you if you're not hungry," she offers, but Virgil shakes his head.
"I'll pick at it. I didn't eat breakfast today."
"Virgil," Roman begins, but Virgil shushes him with a quick nudge to his side.
And Roman's nan smiles at him, before nodding and walking off too.
Immediately, Virgil stumbles backwards and falls onto the bed behind him. "Geez," he breathes, feeling a tremor spread from his shoulders to his hands. Roman sits on the edge of the mattress, near Virgil's head. "That was... a lot."
"My entire family's kind of 'a lot,'" Roman snickers. "Myself included."
"Well I already knew about you. And I guess I was warned about everyone else, but... now I have an entire bowl of potato salad to eat! A ridiculous amount of potato salad!"
"This is a lot of potato salad..." Roman lifts another forkful to his mouth, and chews slowly. "Dinner itself should hopefully be more organized. Grandma gets a bunch of the cousins to spread out a ton of tables in the lawn, and then one massive table is lined with every dish, and then everyone can go grab what they want buffet-style. But seating plans are pretty consistent; everyone tends to sit with their immediate family, aside from one or two cousins who want to mix and match a bit. Remus probably won't sit with us..."
Virgil rolls onto his side. "When will dinner be?"
"I think Grandma was putting the turkey into the oven, and that's typically one of the first things she makes... so probably not for a while. Unless she decides to switch it up this year."
Slowly, Virgil sits up, and slides close to Roman. Their thighs press together as the bowl is passed between them, with Virgil eventually taking another bite. It is very good, and Virgil is quite hungry.
Roman continues talking between bites of his own. "She's complained the last three years about her favourite meat being cold by the time we all eat. Frankly, I think it's expected that some things will end up cold due to how much is being cooked, but she loves her turkey... And Nan's apple pie will need a few hours to cook. Unless it's already done, but hidden."
"Hidden?"
Roman nods somberly. "You can never leave any kind of pie out. Kids, adults, and even Grandma will just stick their fingers in it."
"Gross."
Chuckling, Roman affirms "it is gross. Most of the sweets are tucked into a locked room until dinnertime."
An array of clouds slowly shift to cover the sun, and the room steadily dims until Roman and Virgil are sitting in darkness. Part way through chatting, they hear Roman's grandma shout "alright! Everyone out of my kitchen! Go on; shoo!"
"Do you want to head outside?" Roman proposes, and Virgil eventually nods.
He lets Roman take his hand and guide him out of the room, crossing through the now-empty kitchen on their trek to the back of the house, where the two of them then slip out the large, sliding glass doors, and into the backyard.
Where the lawn ends and the fields begin is unclear, as there's a variety of tables, chairs, and general decorations spreading what looks like miles in every direction. Drinks have been passed around and set underneath one especially large table, likely for food later. As Roman leads Virgil to it, he sees there's an incredible variety, from full bottles of Absolut Vodka to small six-packs of orange-dream flavored Smirnoff. And of course the non-alcoholic beverages that include water bottles, juice pouches, energy drinks, and the works. The few things on the table are beverage dispensers which look to be filled with some type of fruity drink, though Roman steers him away from it.
"It's probably spiked," he whispers under his breath, as he grabs a simple Gatorade from one of the coolers beneath the table.
"It feels kind of neglectful to leave alcohol so openly around."
"If Grandma didn't, everyone would just show up drunk anyway." Roman shrugs, and takes a drink of his juice, so Virgil grabs himself a bottle of water, though Roman opens it for him due to the fact he's still holding the potato salad.
"Does that mean everyone's going to be drunk during dinner?"
Roman thinks for a moment. "Most of my cousins... but Nan doesn't drink, and David and Bruce won't at an event like this. And I won't drink. Remus is probably already tipsy at least, if not shitfaced."
As if on cue, the two of them suddenly hear footsteps rapidly approaching them, before Roman's being jumped on with so much force he nearly stumbles forward into the table.
He has to overcorrect his balance to stay upright, though that just ends up in him being pulled backwards instead, where he falls directly on top of Remus, who had decided to try and tackle him with the aid of a small army's worth of cousins.
Before Roman can even get a word out, he's being dogpiled by at least nine people, with two or three standing around and cheering them on.
Roman's Gatorade ends up half spilled in the grass as he struggles to fight off the large group of people, and only gets a break when they decide to give him one. Remus - who was also not visible beneath the pile - eventually emerges from it, face red and panting from how far he must have ran, and laughing wildly as he writhes out from beneath his cousins.
He then moves to Virgil, slapping his ass and then pulling the bowl of potato salad from him in one swift motion. "Hey, Virgil!" Remus greets him, while Virgil's still reeling from everything that's just happened. "What do you have here?"
"It's- uh-" Virgil stutters, gripping his water bottle so tight the lid looks ready to burst clean off, "it's potato salad. Your grandma made me a bowl."
"Sweet. I always loved potato salad." He sticks his finger in the bowl, and drags up a large amount, which is shoved into his mouth shortly after. "I'm starving, too."
"Hey!" one of the cousins suddenly shouts. "We're also hungry!"
"Yeah," another chimes in, and Remus is forced to back up as they slowly retract from a dizzy Roman and approach Remus instead.
"Back off," Remus growls, lifting the bowl high above his head. He's taller than most of them normally, but even taller now thanks to the platforms he's in. "I stole this serving from Virgil fair and square! If you want your own, you can go harass the old geezer for some."
One of them scoffs. "Why would we do that when we can just run you down instead..."
As Remus prepares to run, Virgil crouches down next to Roman, before just kneeling in the grass. He picks up Roman's drink, and despite the fact it's now only half-full, passes it back to Roman for him to finish off. Roman does so quickly, watching Remus take off sprinting through the grass, the siphoned bowl of potato salad held high above his head and an entire mob chasing behind him.
"Are you okay?" Virgil asks, as he hands Roman his own water bottle once Roman finishes his Gatorade.
Roman's eyes are locked onto Remus as he gets smaller and smaller while running out into the field. "Yeah. Just winded. You try having multiple kids pin you down."
"I'll pass."
He offers Roman his hand, and helps him up, with Roman frowning as he sees the state of his clothing. Before he can complain, Virgil's doing what he can to wipe the dirt off of him, starting with the back of his button up (which is unfortunately stained, but Virgil can at least lessen how bad the grass stains are), and then moving down to the back of Roman's pants.
He feels embarrassed and looks away when sliding his hand across Roman's rear, and Roman looks equally as shy, but neither of them comment on it. It's only after Virgil's cleaned him of most of the dirt does Roman softly say "thanks."
And Virgil quietly responds "no problem."
David and Bruce eventually join the group of people outside, and sit down at one of the tables, which Roman eventually leads Virgil to.
"Is this where we're going to sit tonight?" Roman asks, looking between the many tables across the yard. "Don't we want to sit closer to the food?"
David smiles at them, and uses his foot beneath the table to push the chair in front of him out, allowing Virgil to sit down. "We figured that if you and Virgil decided to sit with us, this would be one of the... less stressful seats. You know some of your cousins are rowdy, especially up by the food table. And I don't think Virgil would want to sit up front when the dessert gets brought out."
Roman sharply inhales. "Ooh, yikes. You're right." He turns to Virgil, and motions for him to sit. "Is this table fine for you?"
"I think so." Virgil sits, and Roman sits too, with them holding hands beneath the table. Though the potato salad was temporarily satiating, he's still quite hungry. "Do you still think there's a bit until dinner?"
Instead of Roman answering, Bruce butts in "nope! It should be done any minute now. Grandma, her sister, and Nan are all packed into the kitchen right now-" he turns to David "-and I think your uncle is upstairs guarding the dessert room."
"He is."
Bruce leans forward to kiss David. "Which means they'll be bringing out food soon enough."
"Some cousins will probably be called inside to help," Roman then adds. "But like... the older cousins. The ones that can be trusted, at least."
"You should probably go help, Roman," David suggests, but Roman hesitates.
"I don't..." he starts, before his lips tighten into a thin line.
His fathers seem to understand though, as Bruce pats David's arm and points out "this is Virgil's first time meeting our family. Roman probably doesn't want to leave him alone."
"I can help," Virgil then offers, though his words surprise himself. He stammers for a moment, before his fingers dig habitually into one of the holes in his jacket, playing with the torn fabric. "If it'll help get the food out faster, and take some stress off of Roman's grandma, then I wouldn't mind helping. Though if that's intruding at all, I'm fine just staying here."
"No, no," Roman immediately assures him. "That's a great idea! Just... give me a minute to rest my body. I was not expecting to wrestle with the equivalent of an entire ensemble today."
Bruce and David talk to each other as Roman does indeed catch his breath, and Virgil leaves it up to him to decide when they'll stand and head inside.
And once they do, Virgil finds every counter lined with a different kind of food.
There are aluminum pans, multiple crockpots, bowls of different salads, and of course a wide variety of meats all cooked to different standards. There's ham, steaks, pulled pork, even just a pot filled with ground beef (and tortilla chips resting near them; apparently they're a package deal)!
"Holy hell..." Virgil mutters, as Roman taps his grandma on the shoulder.
"We're here to help carry stuff outside," he says, right as his grandma pulls the turkey from the oven. So she did cook it last! "If everything's ready, that is."
"Does it all look ready?" she huffs, and Roman just shrugs.
"Depends. Are we expecting another one hundred people to show up?"
"Hell no!"
"Then yes, it all looks ready."
Nan chuckles from over by the fridge, where she's trying to juggle a few more big bottles of soda in her arms. Virgil glances into the cold shelves, and spots way more prepared foods left to chill.
Roman takes the drinks from his nan, and then she's pulling out two large metallic bowls to pass to Virgil.
"You can start with these," she says, "and I'll be right behind you."
"Grandma, where's your sister?" Roman then asks, before they head out.
Roman's grandma mutters a string of obscenities under her breath. "How the hell am I supposed to know?" She raises her voice. "She should be down here helping!"
"If you don't wait a moment for me to get all these damn kids off my husband-!" comes a returning shout from somewhere upstairs, making Roman laugh. He turns after that, and slips past the open glass doors. Virgil follows.
"Your grandmas are so..."
Roman grins. "Rambunctious?"
"Sassy."
The laughter that spills from Roman as a result of his comment is pretty enough to make Virgil flush.
They're swarmed by kids the moment they step onto the grass, but the two of them push through them and to the tables in the back. When Roman's grandparents do indeed follow them, they're harassed as well, though a stern "if y'all don't come get your damn kids!" has a bunch of adults finally intervening to grab or coax their children away from the food. And despite how wild everyone's been thus far, surprisingly everyone stays a good distance away from the food table. Though, Virgil can still see everyone eyeing it with intense interest.
And he understands where they're coming from, as when he heads back inside to grab the pan of ham, he almost trips with just how good it smells.
"I'm going to get drool on this thing," he utters, again making Roman snicker.
Slowly, the long table in the back is packed with food, and restocked with drinks (which people do still fetch, though luckily they stay mostly out of the way). Virgil almost thinks he's stuck in a paradox with how full the kitchen still seems on each reentry; it's like they're hardly making a dent! But eventually, the counters start to clear up, and they're eventually bringing the last of the food out with help from Roman's grandma, her twin sister, and then their two spouses. Add Roman and Virgil, and that's six people working to get everything outside.
Eventually, a few of the older cousins come to help as well, which speeds up the process significantly.
And once all of the food has been laid outside, multiple large stacks of paper plates, boxes of plastic utensils, and flimsy cups are being added to the end of the table as the finishing touches.
Roman pulls Virgil back to their table, where Remus is sitting for the time being, though he's looking elsewhere as if he plans to leave any moment now. However, as Virgil looks across the yard, he sees everyone's sitting a side from Roman's grandma herself.
Everyone's eyes are trained on the matriarch, who looks rather intimidating despite her small, frail size. Her face is twisted into a sour look, but Virgil's started to see it as her "neutral."
Then, she calls "time to eat!" and suddenly everyone's throwing themselves out of their chairs, Remus included.
Roman's dads and Roman himself stay seated, as do a few people here and there, but everyone else is rushing the main table like they're all actively starving to death.
"The crowd will die down in a few minutes," Roman assures Virgil, who does breathe a sigh of relief.
"Thank god," he mumbles, "I would have rather gone home hungry than try and fight my way through everyone."
"It's like this every year. And because of how much there is, there should at least be a little of everything left for you to take so you can try what you want." Roman squeezes Virgil's hand. "And if you don't know what something is... then you can always ask. Some of the cousins like to get a bit experimental sometimes."
"I'm pretty picky..." Virgil cautions. "I don't know if I'll want to step out of my comfort zone."
"That's fine, too. There are standard Thanksgiving foods here. Turkey, mashed potatoes, deviled eggs; there'll be something you'll like. You already know you enjoy the potato salad, so at worst you can just have an entire plate’s worth of that."
They wait for people to slowly turn away from the table before they stand up, and eventually Virgil's escorted to it once it's basically been left alone. David and Bruce flank them, but linger far enough behind that Virgil doesn't feel rushed when mulling over his options.
Just like Roman joked, there are some meats, casseroles, dips, and other foods Virgil doesn't recognize. For now, he decides to steer clear of them, and instead adds on what he knows. He gets a slice of turkey, a slice of ham, some mashed potatoes and gravy, a few deviled eggs (off of a platter that looks to have a hundred of them on it, next to another platter that has a large amount as well), some stuffing, and a few bread rolls. On a separate plate he also gets some of the nachos with beef and cheese, just because he thought it looked good.
He brings it back to his table, and Roman joins him after, also pinching two cups with his fingers.
"I grabbed you some juice," he says, as he sets a cup down by Virgil's plate. "It's from one of the little containers, so there's no alcohol in it. I think yours is orange? Mine's blue... if you want to swap we can."
"I like orange."
"Good! Good. I can also grab you a water bottle if you want."
"I'm fine with juice, Roman. It's okay."
Roman also grabbed them forks, which Virgil's more than grateful for seeing as he'd overlooked them.
"You don't have to overeat or anything, either," Roman says before they dig in. "Any leftovers will be split between families, including whatever's left on your plate if you want it. And we still need to eat dessert afterwards."
Virgil stares down at his plate; he'd forgotten all about dessert! And while he didn't grab an excessive amount of food, he definitely piled his flatware with what he thought it'd take to fill him up.
"Not that you have to eat dessert, but I would recommend it. You should at least try some of it, so when I eventually bake for you you'll be able to compare the two."
Raising his eyebrow, Virgil questions "why would you want me to compare your food to theirs?"
Roman winks. "So you can praise my sweets for being better."
He cuts into a slice of meat - something that looks to be steak - and takes a big bite. Virgil cuts up some of his turkey and slides it through the gravy pooling at the bottom of his plate, before bringing it to his mouth. He chews slowly, wanting to savor the taste while also thinking about a few conversation topics, meaning once he swallows he's able to ask "how long have you been baking?"
Roman contemplates the question, before carefully answering "four years, I think? I started doing it right before my mom and dad split, because normally Mom would try to keep me out of the kitchen as much as possible. She insisted it was a woman's job, but I think that's silly. I enjoyed doing it, and that should have been enough to let her let me pursue it, but... ugh." Roman stabs his fork rather hard into a piece of cheesy broccoli. "But once she was too busy fighting with Dad, then I started just doing it anyway! And now I have free reign of the kitchen, and parents I can ask for supplies. I've made a bunch of stuff, too."
"What's your favourite thing to bake?"
Again, Roman takes a long pause to think hard about the question. Virgil finds it rather endearing that Roman's searching for the most honest answer.
"I like making cheesecake," he eventually responds. "The kind with raspberry drizzle and graham cracker crust. Though, all kinds of cheesecake are fun. No-bake cheesecake, double chocolate cheesecake; there's so many different flavors that it never gets boring."
Virgil licks some gravy from the corner of his own mouth. "That honestly sounds super delicious."
"Then I'll make sure there's a slice for you saved at Christmas!" Roman scarfs down a few extra bites, before he has to drop his fork in order to wave his hands with excitement. "Is there a specific flavor you enjoy? I'll make sure there's some for you. And you can help me make it, if you want."
"I don't know how much help I'll be."
"More reason for you to cook with me. I'll be great at showing you the ropes!" He turns in his chair to face Virgil, absolutely buzzing with glee. "And we can even scour recipes together to find something you'd want to try cooking, and experiment together!"
"Experiment? Over Christmas recipes?" Virgil feels sick at the suggestion. It's sweet, but the idea of potentially messing up a meal that'll be passed from person to person during a gathering is nerve-wracking. "I wouldn't want to waste a bunch of ingredients like that, Roman. I mean, what if I mess it up? Cooking and baking are both so... specific that there's a large margin of error, and again I have no experience whatsoever."
What if he gave everyone salmonella? Or general food poisoning? Or horrid diarrhea?
"Everyone burns a piece of chicken or undercooks the asparagus once in a while," Roman soothes him. He scrapes some of the dark black char off his steak, and holds it up to Virgil's eyes. Virgil watches the crispy pieces blow off Roman's fork in the wind. "Baking does require a bit of precision, but it's all numbers, and recipes are easy to follow. And I'll be there, so... you won't be doing things alone."
That is a bit assuring.
Virgil's spent enough time with Roman to know he won't judge Virgil for messing things up at all, but with the implication that the rest of Roman's family will be around to try it isn't super soothing.
Still, Virgil allows himself to consider the option, and then goes back to eating his Thanksgiving supper.
Bruce gets up for a second plate at some point, as does Roman, and both of them return with a few more slices of meat and a lot of sides. Roman also grabs two more juice pouches for him and Virgil, and refills both of their drinks.
By the time Roman finishes this round of food, his nan and grandma have disappeared from their own table, and remerge sometime later with another table. It's set up in front of the food table - with enough space between the two to let people walk between and grab what they want from either table - but this one is now stocked with sweets of all shapes and sizes. Cakes, pies, puddings, and even multiple tubs of ice cream.
Virgil watches as the cousins around them vibrate wildly in their seats, eager to get themselves a portion.
This time, Roman's grandma hobbles back to her seat and leaves Nan near the front, who more politely announces "come dig in!" which earns the same extreme response that dinner itself did, except this time Bruce hops up too.
"I'll get us both a slice of that peach cobbler," he assures David, feigning bravery before diving headfirst into the collection of cousins and easily getting lost in the mass.
Roman looks a lot more nervous this time. "I can't guarantee there'll be a ton of desserts left if we wait," he expresses, squeezing Virgil's hand tightly. "Is there anything specifically you want? I can try and grab it for you..."
Plates emerge full of some weird chocolate-cream pudding, ambrosia salad, and other sweets. It all looks overwhelming to Virgil, and his mind draws a blank, not being able to name a single dessert off the top of his head. When he bites his lip out of anxiety, Roman scoots his chair closer.
"Again," Roman starts, "you don't have to get dessert. I'm going to, so I could always just let you have a few bites off my plate if you want."
"That might be for the best," Virgil mumbles. "I don't want to go anywhere near that table, and you might get trampled to death trying to grab two servings."
Roman laughs, but softly this time, as if Virgil's more accurate than he realizes.
Virgil holds tightly to Roman's hand until the table's visible again, though some cousins are just eating off their plate in front of the desserts so they're close enough to grab more when they finish. And according to Roman, this is the emptiest it's going to get until all the food atop it disappears, so it's when he finally breaks away from the table to go grab a plateful.
He's there and back quickly, clearly trying to avoid being pushed around anymore than he already is, and comes back with a slice of cherry pie, a cookie, and a slap of ice cream. He also has two spoons, one of which he passes to Virgil.
"Is everything I grabbed okay?" he asks under his breath, as he slides the plate between the two of them. "I can try and grab something else, but there isn't much left."
"This is fine," Virgil hums. "I don't know what I would have wanted anyway."
"If you don't like it, I can-"
Virgil jabs his fork into Roman's side in a manner that's light enough to be playful, but firm enough to get his point across. "I already said it was fine. I mean it's fine. Now shut up and eat." He scrapes a spoonful of pie up, and adds a bit of ice cream to it before bringing it to his mouth, which seems to assure Roman of the fact it is fine that he chose what he chose.
And under the table, Roman's ankle caresses his own.
With the two of them picking at the singular plate, it ends up empty rather soon. Roman refuses David's offer to go up and get more for them, and so Virgil and Roman choose to just sit back and relax for a bit as everyone else gets their fill. Once it looks like no one's eating anymore, Roman's grandma makes an announcement urging everyone to pack everything up, and everyone rushes to their cars to grab plastic containers that they brought in preparation for this very moment.
Roman turns his head. "I have some tubs, but I didn't intend on taking anything for myself. I... admittedly wanted to ask if there was anything you wanted more of. So you could take it home, and eat actual food when you were hungry."
Virgil frowns, and Roman rushes to rephrase his statement. "Not that the food you're ordering isn't actual food, I more so meant homemade food, because you don't have anyone at home to make the food for you! And that's not meant to be insulting, I was just... you know... you know..."
"I know." Virgil pulls his hand away from Roman to reach for his drink instead. "I'll take some turkey... and some potatoes and gravy if there's any to spare."
Roman nods immediately. "Okay. I'll make sure you get some."
His hand sets itself on the seat of Virgil's chair, and he leans forward a bit without thinking, but Virgil leans away, a sudden surge of anxiety rushing through him. Roman only realizes how close he's gotten when Virgil recoils, and his face goes dark red in response. He uses his grip on Virgil's seat to lift himself to his feet, but then backs up a few steps.
"I..." he starts, but Virgil cuts him off before he can stammer something out.
"It's okay."
"Are you sure-?"
"I'm sure."
Though hesitant, and more than embarrassed, Roman eventually turns and walks out into the grass, weaving through the rows of cars in front of him until Virgil can't see him anymore. And though Virgil plans on waiting for him until he gets back, he's quickly ambushed by both Remus and the twins' grandma, who approach him simultaneously.
Remus is holding what looks like a joint between his fingers, and his grandma has a similar one in hers. As she inhales half of it, she coughs, but sits down in Roman's spot anyway, with Remus taking the other side of him.
"Enjoying the party, freak?" Remus asks, kicking his chairs up onto the table. "It's a classic Prince family reunion! I bet it's not as nice and lovey-dovey as you expected."
"I was warned preemptively," Virgil scoffs in response. "And it's been fine. Very... hospitable."
The twins' grandma bursts out into laughter, patting Virgil hard enough on the shoulder for it to feel more like she's hitting him than she's tapping him affectionately. "Hospitable?" she repeats between loud chortling, "don't insult me now! This place is a pigsty! It's a WWE ring!"
"It's a good place to get high," Remus sings, as he finishes off his blunt, and rather inconsiderately directs his exhale into Virgil's face, leaving Virgil scowling at him and turning in his seat to be facing Remus's grandmother instead. "And it's a good place to get lost. But it's hardly hospitable."
"Don't act like such an anxious prick," Grandma then spits, though her words are surprisingly harsher than her tone. She speaks with a weird amount of genuineness, as if her advice is earnest, even if she gave it in a rather abrasive way. "You don't have to lie. My home is meant to be rambunctious and exciting, and that sort of energy isn't for everyone. And if it's not for you, then you're not as much of a little bitch as your brain might be saying you are."
Remus leans so far back in his chair that he nearly topples over. "Couldn't have said it better myself, Grams."
Virgil nervously grabs the bottom of his jacket. "Did I come off that socially inept?"
Cackling, the twins' grandma hooks one of her fingers in one of the holes across Virgil's hoodie. "Absolutely, kid! You look like you're about to break into your dad's medicine cabinet!" Her nail slides across a tear, and Virgil pulls the fabric away. Surprisingly, she pulls away herself, seemingly understanding his boundary. "You sure look the part, though; you blend right in with all my damn grandkids like you're already one of them! And honestly... you remind me of my sister."
The twins' grandma scoots back in her chair slightly, and stares wistfully out towards a group of wrestling children. "She doesn't really like to mingle with anyone but her kids, so she had a lot of kids. She made her own group of friends, and when they had kids she had more people to feel comfortable around. Sometimes your friends' friends aren't going to mesh. Or your boyfriend's family." She gives a pointed look at Remus, and then out to the cousins. "Doesn't mean you're not welcome, nor does it mean you have to stay long. Just that being polite for the sake of being polite is only polite if you don't dread the whole experience, and that if you ever want to start spending Thanksgiving with just Roman, or do a little 'friendsgiving' thingy, then nobody will hold it against you."
"Or miss you," Remus jeers.
His grandma shamelessly turns and raises her leg above Virgil's lap to administer a hard kick to Remus's upper arm, causing Remus to snicker. Then, she sets her hand on Virgil's shoulder - softer, this time. "But... I am happy to meet you. You're not what any of us expected from Roman's first serious relationship."
Virgil shrinks slightly. "Trust me. I know."
"It's not a bad thing," Remus then cuts in, rubbing his finger beneath his nose and sniffling slightly. "You're a lot better than some stuck-up prissy girl Roman's not even attracted to. Our mom's tried to play matchmaker with him before, and it's led to a lot of fun Thanksgiving dinners."
"You should be lucky you haven't gotten the juice cooler dumped on you yet," Grandma coos. "That's happened to a few of the bitches that walked around like they owned the place. It was deserved, obviously, but even if it wasn't that juice would have gone on Roman. But I think they like you. Or they like the look of you."
"I mean, you're not all bad," Remus then agrees. "You're not an entitled dick, for one. But Roman isn't either anymore, so it's fitting." He pulls a can of soda out of seemingly nowhere, and cracks it open, though before Virgil can furrow his brows and ask where the hell Remus grabbed the drink from, Remus is adding "believe it or not, I think unintentionally hooking you two up was the best thing that ever happened to him. He dances around like a Disney princess thinking about you, and he never shuts the hell up."
He chugs down a few mouthfuls of pop, and then belches loudly. As he wipes his mouth free of sticky juice, he turns to Virgil inquisitively. "He's been off his rocker lately, acting like you just announced a pregnancy. In a good way, not in an existential, teen-mom body horror kind of way. Did you guys finally sleep together or something?"
"Gross, Remus! No!"
"Did you at least touch tongues?"
Virgil groans. "Remus!"
"The boy's got a point, kid," Remus's grandma taunts. "As soon as Roman got your RSVP, he held me and Nan captive on the phone for an hour just gabbing about you. We ended up scorching our dinner!"
Virgil refuses to entertain the two of them by admitting he'd kissed Roman a few weeks ago, and luckily Roman finally gets back with his containers, and slides right up behind Virgil. He pulls Virgil's chair out, and urges him out of it, stealing Virgil away from his family and dragging him to the food table instead.
"I hope they weren't stressing you out too much," Roman softly sympathizes as they reach the large spread of food. People are scooping things into their tubs by the spoonful, but luckily the area by the turkey is free, and so Roman squeezes them into that spot between two large groups of cousins. "They've been like that towards anyone I bring to Thanksgiving."
"I think they've been better to me," Virgil points out. "They talked about dumping juice on some girl."
Roman frowns, and then sighs. "They did do that. I didn't think it was funny, but she was being mean to everyone, so I can't say she didn't deserve it. Though I was definitely goading her on."
"Are you... bi?"
Roman's eyes go wide, and then he laughs. "No, no! I'm not attracted to girls at all. I tried to be for a while, and I forced myself into a lot of relationships for my mom's sake, but they were all very superficial. They liked me because I was rich or popular, and I liked them because it meant I wasn't sinning against God." He shrugs, and cuts a slice of turkey for Virgil, and then another, and then another. "I think my mom's convinced being gay is contagious or something, because Remus came out first, and then my dad split up with her to marry his childhood best friend, and then I came out. Though she's in rampant denial about me."
"Am I your first... fake boyfriend?"
Snickering, Roman affirms "you're my first 'fake' boyfriend."
Virgil can't help but smile slightly, and then moves to the side when Roman does, packing mashed potatoes and gravy into a second container. Some bread rolls are also shoved into the turkey tub, and then both containers are closed and handed to Virgil.
"Do you want to stay longer or do you want to go home?"
Hesitating, Virgil scans the yard. "Wouldn't it be rude to go home now? It doesn't look like anyone else has left."
Roman also looks towards the yard, but then raises an eyebrow. "About half the people who were here have left. Some of them are probably inside, but a lot of people don't stay past dinner. And frankly Grandma will end up just kicking us all out in an hour or two anyway. You're allowed to leave, Virgil; staying to be polite isn't a thing this side of the family does."
"Are you sure?"
"After seventeen years of this, I'm fairly certain."
"Okay." Virgil bumps against Roman's shoulder as they begin to walk back out into the grass, and then veer slightly towards the cars. "Then I'd like to go home."
Roman wraps his arm around Virgil's waist, and squeezes his hip comfortingly, and then waves bye to his fathers, his grandparents, and Remus, all of which wave or salute his departure.
The sigh Virgil lets out when he gets into the passenger seat is dramatic, but not entirely fake. "I hardly even spoke to anyone, and I still feel drained after that."
"You might be feeling tired from all the food you ate, too," Roman suggests, which could be somewhat true. He was pleasantly full. With how much he ate, he doubts he'll even be able to stomach breakfast tomorrow! "Maybe you should go home and sleep?"
"This early?"
Roman chuckles. "Well, if you don't want to, you don't have to. It just might be easier to fall asleep when you already feel tired."
"But then I'll miss out on the latter half of my day."
"What were you going to do with the latter half of your day?"
Virgil's fingers tug at his hoodie strings. "Nothing specific. I was probably just going to watch movies until I passed out on the couch." He tugs the drawstrings tight. "You're free to... join me, if you want. We don't have any fancy streaming service, but there should be something half-decent on cable."
"I can always log you into one of my services," Roman offers, and Virgil smiles, letting Roman take his hand and hold it tight.
For the drive back to Virgil's house, Roman actually turns on his radio, which immediately starts spinning the CD he seems to have left in his system. Showtunes start up, surprising both of them, but Virgil doesn't say anything and so Roman doesn't either. Though one of the songs that plays sounds suspiciously like what Roman was humming earlier.
The music fills the silence during the drive, and with Virgil feeling so fatigued due to just being surrounded by so many people he doesn't mind the lack of conversation.
Eventually, an hour into the musical quietly playing through the car speakers, they finally pull up outside Virgil's house.
Roman parks along the curb with the intention of staying a while, and so the two of them take their time getting out of the car.
Roman takes the leftovers in one arm so he can hold Virgil's hand with the other, and walks up to the door where Virgil goes to unlock it... only for it to open before he can.
Virgil's startled by the man standing on the other side, and immediately releases Roman's palm.
"Dad," Virgil stammers, "you're home."
Virgil's father stares at him for a minute, a sad expression written across his countenance. "You're wearing your mother's jacket."
Nervous, Virgil's fingers grab the edge of the hoodie. "I... am."
"You haven't worn that jacket in a long time."
Not knowing how to respond, Virgil doesn't say anything, and Clay doesn't either. They just sort of look at the ground for a while, before finally Roman clears his throat and steps partially in front of Virgil.
"Hi!" he greets, sticking his free hand out to shake Clay's. "I'm Roman. I'm Virgil's..."
He trails off suddenly, and looks towards Virgil with panic in his eyes. But Virgil just finishes with "boyfriend. Roman's my boyfriend."
"Oh." Clay shakes Roman's hand slowly, and then holds the door open wide for the two of them. He must have heard Virgil getting ready to unlock the door while sitting on the couch, based on the show still playing on their television. "Since when?"
Virgil steps inside first, and Roman follows him, suddenly a lot more reserved. "Three-ish months ago. I don't remember the exact date."
"That's nice." Clay shuts the door, and then stays facing it for a minute, before he turns to walk past them and to the stairs. "I was... just about to retire to my room for the night. The living room's all yours. And I don't go back to work until Monday, so I'll be here if you need me."
"Thanks, Dad."
Clay nods, gives Roman a small smile that urges Roman to relax slightly, and then looks back towards Virgil. "And Virgil?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you. And I'm glad you're feeling better."
And then he heads upstairs, where Virgil can hear the soft sound of his bedroom door closing.
Roman exhales immediately, and folds over with his hands on his knees, panting out of anxiety. "Oh my stars," he shudders, "I did not expect to meet your dad today."
"I didn't know he'd be home!"
Roman sets the leftovers on the counter, and then backs up into Virgil's couch, which he collapses on. "Is he... homophobic? Would you know?"
"No, no." Virgil moves to sit next to him. "I don’t think so, at least. He's just… not great with new people. I also think he doesn't really know how to handle relationship stuff. He hasn't been in one since my mom passed." Virgil stares down at his jacket, and then slowly shrugs it off, just holding it tight in his arms instead. "If he had an issue with gay people, I don't think he would have let you inside."
Roman breathes heavily, before relaxing into the cushions, and then handing Virgil the remote. And Virgil takes it, wordlessly navigating to one of the many advertised streaming services for Roman to then type his details into.
Regardless of whether Virgil's dad is here or not, the two of them had already planned on spending the night together, and so they're going to do just that.
And if Virgil gets so tired he ends up slumping against Roman's chest and eventually falling asleep against him, then that's just something they'll both have to deal with tomorrow. Because for now, Roman's happy clicking on a Disney movie and holding Virgil in his arms, and Virgil's happy ignoring the movie entirely in order to listen to Roman's steady heartbeat. As it thumps, thumps, thumps in his ear, and his own breathing synchronizes to the rhythm of Roman's own.
Heard you were taking a few fic requests? If you're still up for one more, I have a lil idea.
Request: Prinxiety where Roman is not having a very good day cause of burnout and Virgil helps him rest? Hurt/comfort style.
If ya don't feel up to writing this, then think of it like a fun lil idea to look at :3
Have fun and take care :D
Hey!!!
Soooo I really liked your request and I wrote about 750 words in 45 minutes! This was quite therapeutic to write, I've been in a similar situation to Roman recently and this weekend/the beginning of next week is the culmination of all this work I've been doing for months, so it's been very very busy. I put out fic requests bc writing helps me to unwind, and writing this actually really helped me work through some of my stress and anxiety.
I hope you guys like it and it doesn't come off as just pure unadulterated projection 😅 Let me know what you think!
Enjoy!
TAKE A BREAK
Prinxiety, creative burnout, hurt/comfort
Summary: Roman's pushing himself too hard. Virgil knows it.
Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54701638
Note: I'm imagining this situation being in some sort of college AU, where Roman's working on a giant project for class, but I intentionally kept it vague so that if you want it can be more canon-compliant and he's working on a video idea for c!Thomas or something too. Or interpret it however you want! That's the joy of writing :)
“Hey.”
Roman jumped a bit as a hand touched his shoulder. He looked up to see Virgil, who wore a concerned expression.
“What’s up?” Roman didn’t know what was wrong.
“Your foot is being a little loud.” Virgil’s eyes flicked to Roman’s foot, which was tapping an erratic rhythm on the floor.
Roman stilled his leg. “I apologize.”
“You only do that when you’re, like, really stressed. Really stressed. Dangerously stressed.”
“I’m not worr—Not—I’m not—” Roman paused, taking a deep breath. “I apologize, Virgil, for worrying you. I’m not stressed, I just don’t have the time to take a break from this.”
Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “Have you been sleeping?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Roman waved a hand in the air. “Unimportant. I need to keep working.”
“You’re mixing up your words.” Virgil crossed his arms. “You only do that when you haven’t been sleeping.”
“Truly, babe, it’s of no consequence.” Roman put on his most convincing smile.
Virgil recoiled. “Stop doing that with your face. It’s scary.”
Roman let his face fall. “I just have…” he sighed. “I just have a lot to do.”
“Can you take a break?”
“A break?” Roman hadn’t had that idea.
“You know. When you get some water—not coffee or energy drinks—and a snack and watch… I don’t know… Hercules or something.” He shrugged. “I prefer Tim Burton, but I can stand Hercules. I like the titans.”
“Are you offering to watch a cartoon with me?” Roman gave a small but sincere grin. “You object to most of my movie choices.”
“And then we watch your choice anyway.” Virgil smiled, a fondness in his eyes. “Because you’ll throw a fit if we don’t.”
“But, still, you suggested an uplifting Disney cartoon. That’s… that might be a first.”
Virgil rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, you need a break. We’ve been sitting in here working for like three hours.”
“Yes, but…” Roman’s grin faded. “I’m not even close to done, Virgil, and this needs to be done. It needs to be done. I need to be done with it.” He didn’t know how he could impress on Virgil how much he wanted to never think about this project again.
“Do you need to be done tonight?”
“I should have it done tonight.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Virgil said, his voice soft, gentle.
Roman sighed. “I suppose I have a few more days to really finish it, but—what are you doing?” Virgil had crossed the room and was gathering his art supplies, putting them in his bag.
“Come on, we’re watching Hercules.”
“I really—I can’t—”
Virgil threw his bag over his shoulder. “You can, and you will.”
Roman sighed. “I need to keep working on this.”
“Can you keep working on this?” Virgil crossed his arms. “Be honest with yourself.”
“I…” Roman’s mouth was slightly open as he searched for the words. For the answer. “I can’t. Not right now. Virgil, I can’t. But I have to.”
“Okay.” Virgil nodded his head. “Then let’s go back to my place and we can make popcorn, and we’ll cuddle and watch the first half-hour of Hercules. And then you can get back to work for an hour, and I’ll sketch. And then we’ll watch more Hercules.”
“Okay.” Roman said softly, closing his laptop.
Virgil waited by the door as Roman packed up his things. “You’re working hard, Roman. You’re doing what you need to do. But you know as well as I do that you do better work when you’re fully conscious and energetic.”
“I suppose I’m not quite as bouncy as I usually am.”
“Not even a little bit as bouncy as usual.” Virgil shook his head. “It’s quite sad. You’re adorable when you’re excited about what you’re working on.”
“I know.” Roman grumbled, standing up. “Self-care makes my work better. But—”
“No buts.” Virgil bumped his shoulder. “Let’s go watch your movie. I won’t even complain when you sing along.”
“Really?” Roman’s eyes lit up.
“Really.”
Roman began to hum “I Won’t Say I’m In Love” as he walked out of the room behind Virgil, pulling the door shut behind him.
Virgil grinned. “You’re already starting to sing. I may have made a mistake.”
“I’m not singing, I’m humming. There’s a difference.” Roman said with mock offense.
“There’s my Roman.” Virgil said, and Roman couldn’t see his face, but he could hear the grin in his words. “A break will do you good.”
This took a lot longer than I expected but finally here’s the next chapter! I’m having a lot of fun writing this so I hope the rest won’t take quite as long :3
ao3 | <- previous | first | next ->
Virgil quickly fumbled his skateboard over to his left hand so he could take Romans. “Virgil.” he replied, meeting the others gaze for the first time before quickly looking away. He really didn’t understand all of these emotions. This was the guy that always annoyed him, the guy who’s outfits he always poked fun at to his friends, so why did looking into his soft brown eyes make Virgil all weak in the legs. Roman tilted his head a bit, confused by the sudden change in demeanor, he seemed so confident mere moments ago. Now it looked more like he wanted to sink through the ground. He shrugged and let go of the skater's hand “so where do we start?”. Virgil swallowed hard, oh no. “Eh- well- wherever you want I guess” he let out a nervous chuckle as he dropped the board onto the ground trying to hide his panic. He was expecting him to ask him to show something next, that was the logical next step, and certainly what he would’ve done if the roles were reversed.
Carefully Roman took a step forward and put his right foot on the skateboard. “So I just like, step onto it-?” Not even waiting for a reply he lifted his other foot from the ground as well. Virgil’s eyes widened. Quickly he threw his arms out, taking a sturdy grip around the others hands and just barely keeping him from falling on his ass. He froze for a moment, feeling his heart flutter in his chest as they just stood there hand in hand. “Well you might want something to hold on to,” he grinned up at him, “trust me, I know from experience.”
“Well it looks like you’re right.” Roman chuckled, his face quickly starting to heat up. That was the first time he had seen the skater smile and oh boy what a smile, he’d do anything to see it again. He looked away for a moment trying to collect himself, weak knees didn’t exactly help with the balance on this damn thing.
Virgil breathed a huge sigh of relief. Maybe he could get through this without making a fool out of himself. “Okay, how about we move a little?” He asked, though it wasn’t really a question. He gently started moving, dragging the other with him, immediately he felt the grip around his hands tighten. God this guy really has no balance. He chuckled a little to himself, the combination of confidence and incapability was really funny in a strangely endearing way. Roman gasped a little as the board was set in motion, struggling to stay on his feet. Possibly because his mind had been elsewhere the entire time. He had been stuck on the feeling of Virgil’s soft hands gently resting on his own, they looked very pale compared to his with chipped black nail polish on all of his nails. Not able to fully grasp that he was actually getting to hold his hands.
Riding around for a bit like that Roman started to get a hang of it, or well at least he was no longer put off balance by every slight gust of wind. He quickly started to feel more confident again.”Maybe I could try it on my own now?” It was barely a question, he’d already started to let go of the other’s hands. Virgil raised an eyebrow, there was no way that’d end well. “Sure,” he sighed a little, “but you’ll need a little more speed to start with”. Taking a harder grip around Romans hands and doing a little jog before letting go. Feeling Virgil letting go of his hands he immediately regretted his decision, he really didn’t have the balance figured out and didn’t even know how to stop. There was no way he wasn’t gonna make a fool out of himself. Admittedly he had been hoping the opposite, that he’d have some hidden talent and impress the skater with his natural skills. Instead there he was violently flailing his arms to try and avoid falling backwards before ending up falling flat on his face, with enough momentum to slide a little across the asphalt. It hurt like bitch. Luckily he was pretty good at keeping face, he quickly got up and chuckled a little, “oops”.
Virgil just stared at him, mouth slightly agape, that was possibly the most dramatic fall he had ever seen. “Are you alright?” He was genuinely concerned, but seeing him immediately getting up he wondered if he was just being dramatic. He was always the worried one, his friends always told him to ease up and relax but he could never quite shake the bad feelings, it made him feel quite silly. “I’m finee.” Roman picked the board up and bought it back, smiling as he walked back to virgil. “But I don’t want to do that again,” he added with a laugh. “Maybe we should just go back to step one”. He reached out his hands towards the skater again and Virgil took them without question. It wasn’t that he really wanted to get back on that damn board, actually he’d love to not do that, but he desperately wanted to hold his hands again and how else would he get to do that? Gently he stepped back onto it, pretending he wasn’t absolutely terrified. Though his violently shaking legs might have given it away.
Virgil just stared at him for a moment, he looked scared and who could blame him, he was a lot braver than Virgil had ever been. Not quite being able to shake the worry he took Romans hands in a gentle but firm grip, as if that would protect him. “Well it is nicer like this anyway.” Roman said with a giggle, vaguely gesturing towards their joined hands. His eyes widened realizing what he just said, that was supposed to stay in his head. Quickly he looked away hoping it had just gone over the others head. Virgil's face flushed for a moment “I guess it is.'' He chuckled softly, looking down, desperate to avoid meeting the other’s gaze. He didn’t need any more strange feelings. For a moment he was taken aback by his own words, did he really think that?? Well it was making him less anxious, so he figured it wasn’t completely untrue. Romans heart skipped several beats noticing Virgil’s flustered expression. Immediately his mind started to race and at the same time he lost all control over his body, once again he was falling. However this time Virgil was between him and the ground.
The teen ran a hair through his thick curls, violet eyes fixated on the shorter male in front of him. “I mean, I know I'm the poor good-for-nothing punk kid but, is that really so hard to believe?” he sat down as the green-eyed teen watched him.
“I….I don't know.” he slowly sat down. “Virgil we drifted apart after…” he trailed off with a sad look in his eyes, unsure how to continue.
“Yeah. after my dad.” he sucked in a breath and sat next to the younger teen. “I remember when we were kids, you were running around your house like the fucking, maniac you are” he laughed dryly. “And uh, you tore your shirt off-”
“And Mamá started cursing me out in Spanish.” roman complimented the dry laugh with one of his own. “And then you started laughing at me.”
Virgil snorted “Hey if you heard my mom yelling at me in Italian you’d laugh too.”
“I have laughed! Remember at church when you stood up-”
“Yeah! And I started yelling profanities before walking out.” Virgil laughed a boisterous hearty laugh and looked down with a somewhat broken smile, only noticing the tears when they dripped on the ground. “What happened to us?”
“You know how kids are,” Roman replied softly. “They make fast friends just because they feel like it and then…..later they just kinda….change.” he said even quieter now.
“Eugh. My least favorite word.” Virgil joked ruefully.
Roman nodded. “You became a punk bad boy and I became….popular?”
“Why is that a question?” Virgil teased.
“Well, I'm sorry Mr.Specific Stereotype, not all of us can have a cool label.”
“Princey, there. You got a cool label now.” Virgil replied coyly.
“Hey! Using childhood nicknames does not count!” roman whined.
“Oh? You wanna fight me pipsqueak?” Virgil taunted.
“Oh, you are on!” Roman grunted jumping up, only regretting his decision when Virgil stood and easily towered over him. “Wait this isn’t faIR-!”
He was immediately thrown over Virgil’s shoulder and he carried him too their tree. They laughed and wrestled and sat, talking for hours. All until the sun went down, and they walked home together. And they felt…..better.
so for cupids culturally they are very touch averse. its not that they dont like it, many cupids love physical affection, its just heavily discouraged.
This is because it relates to the whole cupid thing! you see when hit by an arrow the person hit falls in love with the first person who touches them. Thus to prevent any workplace mishaps touching is greatly discouraged. but they aren’t really told this tho! It isnt a said rule just an implied one so most dont know the real reason(including Roman) But generally touching someone is seen as being really really romantically forward.
But reapers have no such rules!! They have no reason not to touch their coworkers since reaping isn’t touch related at all. thus there is a big cultural barrier between ro and Virgil.
Virgil doesnt know about the whole touch thing and roman is too polite to question it so he just thinks virgil is coming onto him HARD. But again ro is too polite to stop him so it just goes on like this.
Eventually tho a workplace mishap does happen! Roman is messing around with his bow(like cleaning it or something) and Virgil sneaks up on him and then boom arrow right through the heart. It obviously hurts, Ro yells, and virgil comes running to see if ro is okay.
And you can most likely guess what happens next. Virgil touches him to see if he’s okay and BOOM head over heels in love !!!
Now Roman doesn’t wanna make the first move tho, he’s too nervous , but he just keeps letting Virgil touch him and in his brain he just like “ wow I love my kinda sorta boyfriend this is great “ and does little nice things for him like getting him flowers and stuff.
Now Virgil has NO idea that any of this is happening, cause Virgil is under the (very reasonable) assumption that their kinda beings just can’t be effected by their own weapons (which is true for reapers but not for cupids) And he thinks all the romantic stuff Roman is doing is just like cultural cupid stuff?? Like of course the thing that makes the romance does the romance stuff.
So Virgil is like okay Roman is doing all this nice stuff for me I’ll do a nice thing for him, cause at this point they are besties. So he thinks and he’s like we both wear rings sometimes,,, what if I got us matching rings,,,in like a friendship bracelet way,,,,
And so he does! He picked out a nice pair of matching rings that were pretty cheap and match their color schemes and doesn’t think anything of it…
Until he overhears Roman referring to him as his fiancé,,,, and then it clicks,,, HOLY SHIT I JUST GAVE MY COWORKER/BEST FRIEND AN ENGAGEMENT RING. ON ACCIDENT.
But now he’s in too deep!!! It would be so awkward to explain that he didn’t mean to get engaged, plus it would break Roman’s heart,,,, so he just goes along with it.
I mean like Romans really hot and Virgil isn’t opposed to dating the guy(he is in love with him he just doesn’t realize) so what’s the harm in saying yes to the husband that just fell right into his lap!!
Uh, wow, it has been so long since I posted a fic, heh. This is actually an old fic from a while ago that I never posted. Recently I decided to revamp and edit it. There may or may not be one or two more chapters in the works but I was also thinking of leaving it here.
Let me know if you want more of this!
Description: Prince Roman has gotten plenty of scrapes in bruises in the past, and he doesn't see how one more stab wound is that big of a deal. His dearest Virgil, still just a nurse in training, begs to differ.
Genre: hurt/comfort
Pairings: Prinxiety
Warnings: injuries mentioned, mentions of past abuse, homophobia mentioned (I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything or if you need something tagged!)
Word Count: 2,014
Chapter 2
“Of course, it’s infected,” I sighed, rubbing a hand down my face in frustration. “You should have gone to the royal physician when you came back, and not me.
“Yeah well, maybe I didn’t wanna,” the prince in front of me huffed petulantly. I rolled my eyes at him, and stood, examining the stab wound that rested a little above his hip. I’d stitched it up a few days before and had come back to check on him as I had promised. Unfortunately, he was complaining that the pain was getting worse instead of better, and, well, here we were.
“Seriously, your highness, why won’t you just go to the physician? This seems pretty bad. It’s swollen and I don’t want the infection to spread or get worse.
“Oh, we’re playing that game,” Prince Roman scoffed, leaning back against the headboard of his bed, “I told you not to call me that
He looked so tired that I gave in much quicker than normal, groaning and rubbing my temples at my growing headache
“You’re being too stubborn, Roman,” I grumble
“You’re a nurse. It’s basically the same thing,” he muttered.
“No, you idiot, it’s not the same thing. I didn’t even have the right tools with me when you called for me last time. All I had was what I managed to smuggle from the clinic without drawing too much attention. And if someone had told me what had happened before I came, maybe I could have gotten the right supplies. I didn’t know you’d been stabbed. I should have just reported this to Logan and let him handle it. Maybe we wouldn’t be here right now if I had,” I ranted, plopping down on the edge of his bed where he was lounging.
“…But you love me, so you’ll still keep this a secret for me, right?” he grinned sweetly, leaning closer and reaching up to try to cup my face. I glared at him until he sat back again with a pout.
“You are so lucky that I’m more concerned about your stupid health right now than arguing anymore,” I grumbled as I got to work tending to his wound.
“Aw, come now, stormcloud,” he countered, still pouting, “at least it’s an excuse to see you again.”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes at him.
“Yes, I just love being responsible for the prince getting an infection and then having him argue with me for the millionth time seeking about actual medical health.”
“Oh, it’s not that bad,” he tsked, reaching over to brush back my hair. I promptly swatted his hand away and glared at him again.
“No fun,” he sighed petulantly.
“You know the rules, Roman,” I reminded him with a sigh of my own.
“Yeah, well, coming here and doing this is against the rules too, but you’re still doing it,” He pointed out, huffing in irritation.
“Under protest.”
“I think a little touching in my own room is fine, Virgil. You’ve said you loved me before.”
“…Under protest.”
“Was not,” Roman muttered, snorting.
“That—I shouldn’t have said it, ok? You know that we’d get in a lot of trouble. It would just cause problems for both of us,” I huffed, glancing up at him before refocusing on my work.
Roman opened his mouth, probably to argue some more, but cut himself off with a flinch.
“That hurts, Virge,” he hissed, pulling away a bit.
“Well, obviously. It’s a stab wound Roman,” I spat out, glaring at him, “and I’m trying to clean it; so, hold still.”
He huffed but did as instructed, and we fell into a tense silence. I’d made a mistake in telling him I loved him, obviously, because he never let me forget that I’d said it. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing late one night when I was fixing some bruises on his face. He had been acting so sweet, but he looked so broken, and I poked and prodded until he admitted where the bruises had come from. It would have been so much better if they were just from him defending the nearby city from the raids that had been plaguing the kingdom for quite a while. It would have been ok if they were from one of his stupid quests to who-knows-where because he wouldn’t tell me about them but always came back bruised from them. It would have been fine if he’d been out training with the knights again and got a little carried away.
Instead, I cursed his father and the fact that he was the beloved king and that Roman couldn’t do anything about that. I cursed that his father had said he wouldn’t relinquish the throne until Roman found a suitable queen to rule by his side, and I cursed that I wasn’t a born girl of noble blood so that I could be that for him. I cursed that us being in love wasn’t enough. I cursed everyone who found it disgraceful and lowly that he’d fall for a servant; and everyone who found it disgusting and sinful that he’d fallen for a man. I had a lot of curses to give out, apparently. Too bad I didn’t know a suitable witch.
Pushing away those thoughts with a grimace, I refocused on cleaning and wrapping Roman’s torso. Luckily my hands had been moving on autopilot during my little internal rant, and I was basically done at this point. I sighed, staring at the place I knew the wound was underneath the bandages, hoping I’d done enough to stop the infection After all, I was still just in training to become a physician. I hadn’t even gotten through all of my training to become a full-time, work without supervision nurse yet, despite what Roman seemed to think.
Speaking of Roman, he was zoning out, staring at a spot on his bed, and I just grew more worried at the slightly dazed look in his eye. This infection could have serious consequences if it got much worse.
“Come on, Princey, please let me take you to Logan,” I tried one more time, already expecting the answer I’d get. Couldn’t hurt to try, right? He paused for a second before blinking and shaking himself out of his stupor.
“No, Virgil. Just—please. You know that if my father finds out about this, he’ll—he’ll forbid me to go into town anymore at all,” he begged, “he’s already banned me from helping fend off the raids—”
“Which you obviously ignored,” I interrupted, making him huff.
“—If he finds out I disobeyed and got injured…again…he won’t even let me out of my room.”
I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to offer some sort of comfort. I knew he’d been having more problems with his father recently, but I didn’t know how I could be of any help. What could I say against the king?
“You know, when he banned me from helping with the raids and fighting off any other attacks on the towns, he said that I should learn that my life is more valuable than theirs,” He scoffed, breaking the soft silence that had fallen between us as his face twisted in disgust, “He told me there’s no reason I should get hurt protecting them. That I was making a fool of myself…what kind of ruler doesn’t protect their people?”
“A bad one,” I muttered without thinking, making Roman snicker.
“Hear, hear,” He grinned before growing serious once again.
“Virgil, when I’m king, I’m going to do better,” he avowed, glaring down at his lap.
“Of course, you will, Ro,” I agreed softly, “You’re already doing better than him.”
Roman smiled at my words as I tried not to imagine how much trouble I’d be in if someone overheard me slandering the king.
“I’m going to actually help our people. I’m going to make sure to put an end to threats for good instead of brushing over the issue by sending out more and more untrained soldiers to their deaths. I’m going to make sure everyone is as happy,” He continued, sighing—probably at the thought of everything that’s been happening lately. There had been a lot of infighting in the kingdom recently. Not only did no one know who was facilitating the attacks and raids on the towns and cities near the castle, there was increasing evidence that it was coming from within the kingdom and not from outside forces. I couldn’t imagine how much not being able to help how he wanted was weighing on Roman. I couldn’t even blame him for sneaking out to help defend the citizens. I just wish he didn’t always come back hurt.
“You’ll make a great ruler, Ro, even if you’re an idiot for not taking any of my advice, like…ever,” I assured, hoping to ease the melancholy atmosphere that had fallen with a little teasing. He chuckled softly, but remained as serious as before, looking up to meet my eyes. I melted a little at how much they softened when he looked at me.
“I’ll make sure we can be together too, Virgil. I’ll—I’ll make sure no one can hurt you. No one will have to hide anymore, and those stupid rules will be abolished,” he promised, taking my hand in his. “Just…wait for me, ok? I’ll protect you. I’ll protect us.”
My breath wavered at the sincerity in his voice. If anyone could accomplish all of that, I was sure it was Roman. He already had the love and loyalty of most of the castle staff. He visited the town as often as he could and had made friends with many of the locals. Even many nobles—the ones who weren’t stuck with their head in their own asses—loved him as well. I smiled softly, patting the hand that still rested on mine.
“Looking forward to it, Princey,” I murmured.
As Roman started to blush and lean forward, I realized just how close we’d gotten during his promises, and jumped up, clearing my throat. I already missed the softness that I’d just destroyed by pulling away. I wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t.
“Um, uh, the stitches I did last time look fine for the most part,” I started, pushing away the thoughts as I frantically started collecting the left-over supplies and tried to hide how red my face had grown, “but as I said earlier, it’s definitely infected.”
When I turned back around after gathering everything, Roman was pouting forlornly, a blush still tinging his cheeks.
“You—um, I put some ointment that should help with it, but if it gets worse…” I sighed, rubbing my neck awkwardly. I knew telling him to go to the physician again would just cause another argument, and I really didn’t want another one of those right now.
“Well, I’ll try to come back tomorrow to check it, but you know I can only sneak up to your room so many times without people getting suspicious,” I said instead, trying to chuckle to lighten the mood.
“So…you won’t tell?” he asked hesitantly.
“You know I won’t,” I rolled my eyes as a bright grin took over his face.
“Just get some rest, Princey, I’ll be back tomorrow. Probably,” I instructed, biting back a grin of my own at the look on his face.
“Good night, Edgar Allen Woe,” he sang as I started for the door.
“One day, you’re gonna run out of those stupid nicknames,” I snickered.
“Never,” he gasped dramatically.
With a soft chuckle, I bid him goodnight and closed the door. As I sneaked back down to the servant’s quarters where I lived, I let the stress of—all of that—slide off and took a deep breath. It was quiet, and I took comfort in the fact that my footsteps were the only ones I could hear echoing down the hall. It seems I was safe this time. One day that prince was going to kill me with worry. Too bad I liked him too much to care.
