Roman trying to fix his relationship with Remus, knowing only sad and "bad" things about him. Remembered when Remus left the house at 16, hearing about him being homeless, stories of addiction, living with shady people.
He found out where Remus lived and immediately took a ride there. Doors opened showing a teenager in a cat beanie, wearing big hoodie with purple patches.
Turns out not only Remus is now a well know scientists, he also is engaged to someone and is living with his partner and their brother. He treats Virgil like his own and Roman is so shocked he teared up a little.
Janus is Remus partner. She's not only gothic and dark, she's also so in love with Remus.
Roman doesn't know what to do with that. His brother is living his Addams family fantasy while Roman thought that he was barely breathing.
He is also pissed that Remus was the first to be engaged.
Fandom: Sanders Sides
Characters: Logan, Janus, and Virgil; background Roman, Remus, Romulus, Remy, and eventually Patton; a couple other characters will eventually be briefly mentioned.
Rating: Teen & up
Relationships: Enemies-to-lovers/arranged marriage Loceit; queerplatonic Virgil & Remy; Janus and Patton are brothers; Virgil and Logan and the Creativitwins are brothers; there will be a couple of briefly mentioned/background relationships later that don’t come into the story.
Warnings: Language, mention of a character having transphobic parents, mention of past panic attacks/anxiety
Word count: 8651
Summary: Prince Logan has known his whole life that he is to be married off to a stranger; Prince Janus only found out about his lifelong betrothal to Logan when he was seventeen. A chance encounter before their wedding day seems like it may warm them up to each other, only to go terribly wrong. Now Logan is roommates with—and technically married to—a man he's convinced he can't stand, even if Janus is charming and handsome and clever.
Will Janus's wit and snark and love of debate be enough to break down Logan's walls? Will they find happiness? Or will they only make each other miserable for the rest of their lives?
Info: Royalty/fantasy AU; arranged-marriage, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers Loceit. Trans Logan, trans Janus, aroace Virgil.
Notes: My piece for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange ! My giftee is @icecoldflames . I did my best to include something from each of your wishes—I hope you like it! This story has 5 chapters, which are all complete; I will be posting one of them every day until they are all published. Let me know if anyone wants to be added to the taglist!
Read on AO3!
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Chapter 1
Logan jumped to his feet, shoving his chair back from the table so hard it fell over. “I said to leave me alone, Roman!” he shouted, hands shaking where they gripped the edge of the table.
His younger brother looked shocked, caught off-guard by the outburst. “But I just—”
“I don’t want to talk about it!” Logan snapped.
Remus, sitting by his twin’s side, raised his eyebrows. “Wow, what’s up your ass?” he asked through a mouthful of lunch.
“Remus,” their father King Romulus said warningly. “Watch your language.”
“Whatever. It’s not like this is news, I don’t know why he’s so upset—”
Logan turned on his heel and stalked from the balcony into the royal children’s suite, ignoring his father and brothers calling after him. Holding his head high and his shoulders straight, he made his way to his room, where he slammed the door to his room behind himself and locked it.
Logan pressed his back against the door, cast the silver key back onto the table it belonged on, and tipped his head back too hard to stare at the faraway ceiling, receiving a painful bump on the skull against the molding of one of his tall white double doors.
He groaned and slid to sit on the plush navy carpet, drawing his knees up to his chest.
There was a knock on the door.
“Go away,” Logan called, summoning his best imperious tone.
“It’s just me, L,” the voice of his older brother, Virgil, sounded. When Logan didn’t respond, he went on, “Dad asked me to come talk to you, so if I come back and say you wouldn’t let me in, probably someone else will come and bug you.”
“Just say I let you in and said all the right things, then,” Logan said into his crossed arms.
His brother let out a small, amused huff. “Sure. Sure.” There was a pause and another gentle knock, as of a single knuckle. “Logan….”
Logan groaned again, but scooted to the side and reached up to unlock the door without standing up.
“Thanks,” his brother, Virgil, the Crown Prince of Sanders, said, cracking the door open just enough to step through. He closed it again and plopped down to sit beside Logan, offering one arm. “Hug?”
Logan looked away for a moment before his will crumbled and he slid closer, allowing Virgil to wrap an arm about Logan and pull Logan’s head to rest on his shoulder.
The pair of them were quiet for a moment.
“I don’t want to meet him,” Logan whispered. “My fiance. Not yet. Not today.” His voice rose slightly. “I’m not—I just—I saw the entourage arriving this morning, and I thought I would be fine, but then Roman wouldn’t stop talking about it and I—” He broke off, voice shaking too hard to trust it to carry his words.
Virgil nodded, rubbing Logan’s shoulder. When he’d waited a minute, probably to ascertain that Logan was done talking, he drew in a long breath and asked, “It’s probably not going to help if I talk about when I got married, is it?”
“No,” Logan said, frowning. He began to tick off reasons on his fingers. “You were old enough when you were betrothed that your personality could be taken into account during the matchmaking process, you are aromantic and put an acknowledgement of that and boundaries around it into your wedding contract, you were allowed to know Remy for years before marrying him, you are friends with him, you—”
“I know,” Virgil interrupted gently, tousling Logan’s hair. “It’s kind of my life you’re telling me about, there.”
“It’s different for me, is all I’m saying,” Logan said plaintively. Though Virgil was four years older, Logan had been betrothed earlier than him, since before his first birthday, sealing a political alliance the kingdom badly needed. Virgil, as the crown prince, had taken far more political negotiation to engage, and hadn’t been officially betrothed until he was six.
“I know,” Virgil repeated softly, tone compassionate and understanding in a way Logan would hate if he didn’t know how sincere it was. “Is there anything you want me to say that would make it better?”
Logan shook his head.
“What do you want me to tell Dad?” Virgil asked.
Logan sighed. “Tell him that I will be… fine. I will do everything right. I will be on time to dinner and I will greet our guests politely and behave nicely to Prince Janus when I am introduced to him. I will behave with the utmost propriety and do everything I can to ensure our wedding goes smoothly. I understand the importance of this alliance for the kingdom and I do not intend to undermine it in any way.” He pressed his lips together and pretended they were not threatening to quiver. “I just…” he went on after a moment. “I just need to be alone right now, in order to be able to do all of that later. I—I need to—” He struggled for words. “Have time to—panic about it, I suppose.” He wrinkled his nose. “Don’t tell Dad that part.”
“Of course.” Virgil held him a little more securely. “I get it.”
Logan pressed his face harder into his brother’s shoulder and nodded. “Thank you.” He hesitated. “But—I need to be left alone, I think. Just until dinner. And then I promise I’ll do everything perfectly. Just as long as I can be alone until then.”
Virgil snorted. “The twins aren’t going to like that.”
Logan laughed softly. He’d seen the parchments scattered all week across the floor of the twins’ playroom-turned-workshop, scribbled with writing and a heading that read Things To Ask Logan About Wedding. He suspected that the questions they had overwhelmed him with at lunch just now had been intended to kick off this list. “True.” He hesitated, then looked up, catching Virgil’s eyes. “Were you—scared? At all?”
“Logan, I’m scared of everything,” Virgil said with another amused snort. “Have you met me?” He examined Logan’s face and his expression grew more serious. “But… yeah. I was really nervous about my marriage. I think that’s pretty normal.”
Logan absorbed this, staring at the carpet. “I’ve tried so hard to find out what he’s like, and I still feel like I know nothing about him.”
“Yeah?” Virgil said, soft and encouraging, a clear invitation to spill out any thoughts troubling him.
Logan took the invitation at once. “I haven’t even seen a picture of him! He’s refused to sit for portraits ever since his transition, and obviously I don’t want to go digging up portraits from before. And I can’t figure out anything about his personality. All the answers people give me when I ask about him feel so vague.”
“How so?” Virgil asked.
“Like—like, they say he ‘reads.’ So what? That could mean anything! He’s a prince, of course he reads something. You know what I mean? I mean, you’ve even been to the kingdom of Philos, you’ve met him, and even you still can’t tell me anything about him!”
“I mean, I’ve really only properly met his older brother,” Virgil said apologetically. “Prince Patton. We’ve become friends and we keep in correspondence, but I’ve never actually spoken with Janus. Just had a formal introduction to him and been to a few dinners he was present at.”
“Exactly!” Logan flung his hands in the air. “Nobody seems to have anything more than the barest, most surface level knowledge about him! The only details I can pinpoint are that he likes philosophy and fencing and he’s supposed to be politically savvy. I still know nothing about what he’s like! I have all these—these scraps of information that I keep trying to piece together into something cohesive, and it’s not working. I can’t get a read at all on what kind of person he is.”
Virgil held his younger brother a little tighter. “I know how much you hate not knowing things. I’m sorry.”
Logan nodded. “Thank you,” he mumbled, his voice coming out small.
“Is there anything I can do? Anything I can tell Dad you need?”
Logan shook his head. “I do not need anything that either of you can provide me. I will—tell Dad that I will be fine soon.”
“Mmkay.” Virgil dropped a kiss on the top of his brother’s head and got to his feet. “Need some space now?”
“Yes, please.”
Virgil nodded and slipped out the door. “He’s napping, leave him alone,” Logan heard him say—probably to one of the twins.
Logan waited until Virgil’s footsteps had faded away before locking the door once again and heading for his closet. He pulled out one of the outfits he kept in the very back and changed, shedding his silver doublet with the fine navy embroidery threaded all across it in favor of a blue linen tunic with a brown lace to draw the collar closed, his navy velvet trousers in favor of simpler breeches in a plain gray fabric with straight legs, and his silver shoes with large buckles in favor of brown leather boots. He ran his hands through his dark curls, disheveling them slightly, and grabbed a brown leather satchel, which he slung over his shoulder as he crossed to his wide bay window. Climbing up into the window seat, he pushed open the window and climbed out into the tree outside.
Watching for guards or nobles walking around the gardens, he climbed down the tree to the ground below. His room was only on the second story of the palace; this made sneaking out very easy.
Running his hands along the embossed pattern on the leather of his satchel to ground himself, Logan snuck through the palace gardens. He avoided the guards with a well-practiced step, darting behind sculpted bushes and turning down side paths at all the right moments to avoid every point where he might be spotted and sent back to his room. The gates of the palace, of course, were well guarded—but the loose stone in the wall beneath the trailing ivy curtain was not, a fact that Logan and the twins made frequent use of, despite all Virgil’s (hypocritical) worries.
Logan generally was not fond of being reminded of how tiny he was, but the fact that he had never outgrown the little gap in the wall that was his hidden way out to freedom was… well, he was deeply grateful for it, dislike for his slight physique aside. (He had been tall for his age, once. People used to comment on it frequently when he was a child, and he had delighted in it since well before he’d put the name gender euphoria to the feeling it sparked in him. But the days where he would be singled out as tall were long gone, and he’d never quite stopped feeling salty about it.) The twins, at fourteen, were just hitting another growth spurt, and Logan had heard Roman complaining to Remus about how much more awkward it was for them to squeeze through than it used to be. If his memories of Virgil’s teenage years served him right, Logan would wager the twins had another year of use out of the secret exit, at best. Not so himself, who had retained very nearly the same body mass since he was twelve years old.
Logan replaced the stone behind himself, erasing all trace of his disappearance from the palace grounds, and climbed down the steep incline of decorative plants to the cobbled road below. He brushed a few stray leaves from his attire and set off down the road, sticking to one of the narrow dirt paths on either side of the cobbles, making his way briskly away from the palace and towards the small town that was hardly ten minutes’ walk away.
Logan was perfectly aware that the town, for all its novelty and quaintness to him and his brothers, was a thing of relative opulence and existed mostly for the purpose of the local nobility’s sightseeing and entertainment. He was also perfectly aware that most—if not all—shopkeepers in the area recognized him for who he was, and that a town guard would doubtless trail behind him just out of sight for the duration of his visit. That notwithstanding, the town was a welcome reprieve for Logan from his more official duties. Even under the vague pretense of strangerhood most people there bore to him, he was able to relax somewhat and forget about all the duties he was endlessly beholden to; for at least an hour or two, he could do as he pleased, for no other purpose than that he chose to.
It was little wonder, really, that his back straightened and he felt a spring in his step as he passed through the town gates. He exchanged a nod with the guards, and was pleased to note that the one who peeled off from the group about twenty paces behind Logan was Rodolfo, an old man with sturdy calloused hands and a story for every occasion. He was by far Logan’s favorite of the town guards, and much more discreet than the younger guards who’d tailed Logan on his last few visits. Unless Logan chose to engage him in conversation—which he did on occasion, but not today—he knew Rodolfo would stay out of his way and let him have his moment of escape.
Logan made his way to the town’s bookstore, which stocked many fine new wares, but also had a small section of secondhand books in the back. To some patrons, this used section—hardly more than a nook, really, but at least it had a window seat in the midst of the piled stacks—might seem cramped and uninviting, but to Logan, it was a tiny paradise. The shelves were pushed so close together, keeping the space as small as possible so as not to encroach on the finer and more impressive areas of the store‚ that once one stepped into the nook, it was as good as a private room. Logan could browse as he pleased for hours on end, or curl up in the window seat that had room enough to spare and read his heart out. He liked to look for books that had notes in the margins, liked to puzzle out the handwriting of strangers he would never meet and see what he could glean about their lives, make up stories to himself about the kinds of people they might have been and what adventures these books might have seen before making their way to this shop.
It was one of his favorite activities, and one he was in sore need of just now. It was relaxing, a good way to unwind and distract himself from his cares; and oh, did he have cares to be distracted from. He perused the shelves, selecting volumes that seemed promising until the stack in his arms reached to his chin, and settled into the window nook. He didn’t have to be back at the palace until four, when he would dress and prepare for the dinner he would meet his soon-to-be husband at, and that was still hours away. After all, he’d hardly started lunch with his family when Roman had asked one too many questions about what Logan thought his fiance would be like, and his nerves had overcome him and his stomach had turned and he’d all but ran to hide in his room.
It wasn’t exactly that he was upset about the idea of this marriage. He’d known it was coming for practically his entire life, and while he wasn’t thrilled, he felt ambivalent about it, which he considered to be quite acceptable. But his wedding had seemed far away and theoretical for so long, and it was now approaching reality at a hurtling speed. It had finally hit him that this was something that was going to change his whole life, starting now. He would meet his fiance in just hours; their wedding was in a week’s time. He should have readied himself emotionally earlier—but he hadn’t realized he wasn’t ready until it had all hit him at once.
That aside, from the unfortunate luncheon to now, hardly three-quarters of an hour could have passed. He had plenty of time to relax here in the little corner of the bookshop that nobody else ever visited.
But as an extra precaution against running late, he reached into his satchel and drew out a silver pocketwatch; he placed it so that it dangled by its chain down the side of his stack of books, with one particularly heavy tome set on top to hold it in place, so that he could keep track of the time and leave before he would be late. Satisfied with this measure, he adjusted his seating position and flipped open the worn, well-annotated almanac of some five years’ past in his hands.
***
Logan lost track of time quickly as he read and daydreamed, sending only the occasional glance towards the pocketwatch to ensure he wasn’t running late. He was not sure how long he had been there by the time soft footsteps sounded nearby.
They were so soft, in fact, that he assumed they were not all that close, perhaps someone looking at the fine, gilded history books in the next section over. He didn’t bother to raise his head until—
A well-manicured finger slid over the edge of the book in his hands, prying it away from his face. “Pardon me. Is anyone sitting here?”
The speaker, gesturing to the empty half of the window nook, was a young man of about Logan’s age, with strawberry-blond hair that half-covered his face and did not quite reach to his shoulders. He had a sturdy, chubby build and was dressed in a mustard-yellow sleeveless doublet with half its buttons undone, over a white blouse with loose sleeves gathered at the wrists and long cuffs that half-hid his hands; the shirt’s lacing was tied loosely, allowing just a glimpse of a chest-binding garment beneath. On his head, the young man wore a black tricorn hat; his breeches and shoes were also black, the shoes with large buckles of burnished brass.
The boy had one foot propped up on the edge of the window seat and was leaning an elbow on his knee in order to rest his chin on his hand, which seemed like a horribly complicated way to appear languid and at ease when standing was a perfectly good option. His snub nose and round cheeks were splattered all over with faint freckles, only a shade or two darker than his ruddy, lightly tanned skin. He had gray eyes and the faintest hint of a smirk playing as if by habit at the corner of his mouth.
Logan frowned. He did not appreciate the interruption of the last hours of freedom he would be able to snatch for at least the next month, until the festivities and formalities that need must surround his wedding would finally die down and the spotlight would turn somewhat away from his doings every hour of the day. “Yes,” he said tartly, lifting his book to his face once again.
He gained only a second of blissful silence before the man again nudged the book away from his face. “Is it you?”
“Pardon?” Logan said, perhaps a little irritably.
“The person you say is sitting here. Is it just you? Or is there really someone whose seat I would be taking?”
Logan glared at the altogether far too nosy man. “I fail to see why that is any of your business.”
“Excellent, just you.” The man clapped his hands together briskly. “Do shove over and make room, there’s a good fellow.” Ignoring Logan’s spluttered protests, he climbed into the empty half of the window seat, examined Logan’s stack of books between them, and plucked one from the center, only just avoiding toppling the lot. “Ooh, The Young Gentleman’s Guide to Table Arrangements for Every Occasion,” he read off the cover. “Sounds riveting.”
Logan glared harder. “I like to educate myself on a variety of topics.”
“I’m sure,” the other man said, running a finger delicately down the spine. “So, are you from around here?”
Logan blinked once. “…You could say that.”
“Hm.” The man looked him up and down with pursed lips, tapping a finger to them. “You don’t look old enough to be someone important.”
“I’m almost nineteen!” Logan protested, indignant.
The man scoffed. “Me too, you’re not special. And that’s not old enough to be someone important, generally speaking.”
Logan spluttered for a moment, unable to decide what part of that little display of impertinence to object to first.
The man ignored this and went on with his appraisal of Logan’s person. “Also, your clothes are too fine to work here.” He nodded decisively. “So! Either you’re an apprentice at one of the flashy shops in the town square skiving off work, or else you work at the palace and are skiving off work there. So which is it?”
“Couldn’t it just be my day off?” Logan inquired, half amused in spite of himself, and absolutely fascinated by the fact that this man seemed to truly have no idea who he was.
The man laughed and waved a hand. “Oh, it could, but not with how defensive you’ve been. So, which is it? Town apprentice or palace servant? Come on, tell me.”
“I shall do nothing of the sort,” Logan, who did not trust himself to sell an outright lie, said primly. “I see no reason why I owe my time or conversation to someone who would so rudely accuse me of such dishonest practices.”
“No need to be so touchy,” the man said, that stupid smirk never leaving his lips. “I’m in the same boat—I’m rather supposed to be on the clock myself, just now. But I’d much rather explore, and I’m sure I won’t be missed for an hour or two.” He rolled his eyes. “Lord knows they sent enough attendants to accompany Prince Janus.”
Logan felt a shot of nerves run through him. “You came with the prince?”
“Ye—es,” the man said, stumbling over the word slightly, then went on more quickly, “I did. I work for him, I’m—I’m his valet. Yes. Yes, that’s right. His valet.”
“What is he like?” Logan asked at once, even as a small part of him was bitter that of course the person who was ruining his time alone had something to do with the man who was the entire reason Logan so desperately wanted to snatch the time alone in the first place. Still, a chance to learn something, anything about his husband-to-be was not one to be passed up. Anything to be just a little bit more prepared.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” the man said, shrugging. “I’m new and he doesn’t talk much.” He grinned. “There’s a rumor going around some of the entourage that we only got chosen to go with him because he threatened to start a war if his parents didn’t hire any trans attendants for him! Isn’t that funny?”
“…Not particularly,” Logan said, horrified. “Why—why would he say such a thing?”
There was a half-second of silence. “Which part?” the man asked, tone still light but his gaze pinning Logan down much more warily than before.
Logan gestured in a bewildered manner; was it not obvious? “Wars are no laughing matter! Surely with his—his level of prestige and influence, if he wants such a small favor as that, all he has to do is ask? Why threaten something so serious?”
The man, bizarrely, relaxed just the slightest amount. “I’m sure he had his reasons.” He shrugged. “The whims of nobility are beyond me, really.” He stared at the book in his hands, but Logan was certain he wasn’t reading it; his gaze was still and unfocused. “Maybe he thought he couldn’t get it any other way,” he added after a moment. His pink lips were pressed together into almost nothing. “I mean, my parents were none too pleased with me being a man. Who’s to say his aren’t the same in private? It’s not that uncommon.”
“I—what, transphobia? In Philos?”
The man gave Logan a thoroughly unimpressed look. “No, yellow orchids. Yes! Obviously that! Are you thick in the head?”
“I’m told I am in possession of a brilliant mind, actually, and I’ll thank you not to insult it,” Logan fired back, though his thoughts were hardly occupied with his response. He had never accompanied Virgil on diplomatic trips to Philos—he’d always had schedule conflicts that seemed coincidental. But in light of this new information, he found himself suspecting that he needed to have another conversation with his father and Virgil about not withholding facts from him simply because they were unpleasant. He would far prefer knowledge over being protected from pain. “I’m sorry,” he added, more kindly. “That’s awful.”
The other man huffed out a sigh. “Thanks. It’s nothing, though.” He shrugged. “I deal with it.”
“But—” Logan began.
“Anyway, you wanted to know about the prince?” he interrupted. “He—he, um, he often goes riding. He tells me he hates it, though.”
Logan’s brow furrowed. “Then why—?”
“Yes, that’s what I asked! He said something about ‘getting away from it all,’ but he clammed up right away after that.” The man shrugged. “There you have it.” He tilted his head to one side. “What of your royal family? I’ve heard stories, but what’s it like as someone who lives here?”
“They—” Logan swallowed, already struggling to choose his wording carefully and not give himself away. “I believe they are for the most part not disliked, and Prince Virgil in particular is seen favorably. They are friendly to servants at the palace and during public appearances. The twin princes are known to be a little rowdy, but they’re hardly more than children yet.” He hesitated. All of these were sentiments he had heard from many different sources; they seemed safe enough. “Is there anything in particular you wanted to know?”
“Just curious,” the man said with a lazy shrug. “Have you ever met any of them?”
“I—on occasion, yes,” Logan admitted, heart racing. “They’re generally rather busy. With… royal things, I suppose.”
“Mm, yes. I do hear that’s what royals do. Royal things,” the man said, tone grave but face splitting with a grin that was far too contagious.
“Oh, shut up.” Logan stifled his laugh with a cough.
The other man made a small, amused noise. “Are all the books you brought over here this dull?” he asked after a minute, holding up The Young Gentleman’s Guide to Table Arrangements for Every Occasion.
Logan raised an eyebrow. “Have you looked inside it?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t much interest in the intricacies of table arrangements, thanks,” the blond man said, smirk toying at his lips once again.
Logan took a measured breath. “I did not choose these for the subject matter.”
There was a pause, in which the other man gave Logan a baffled stare. “What the hell did you go for instead?”
“If you try opening the book, maybe you might have some idea.” Logan raised his own book to block his face from the man’s view, encouraging him to either do as Logan suggested or to be quiet and leave him alone.
There was a short quiet punctuated by the quiet rustling of pages and shuffling of books as the man glanced through a few of the books in Logan’s stack.
“…Is it the way they’re all marked up?” the man inquired at last.
Logan nodded. “Indeed.”
“Why?”
“It fascinates me,” Logan said. “It’s a small glimpse into the minds and lives of people whose paths will otherwise never cross mine. I enjoy reflecting upon what I find.”
The other man—who Logan was realizing he did not know the name of, but he did not wish to bring this up and then have to disclose his own identity—blinked, face slowly clearing up. “That’s… not nearly as boring as anything I imagined you’d say.”
Logan quirked an eyebrow. “I am not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”
“Me neither.” The man shrugged, running his finger down the dwindling stack of books between the pair of them. “Oh!” he exclaimed under his breath, drawing out the book that was second from the bottom. “I know this one.” He sounded pleased.
Logan glanced over, curious. The book the man was now happily flipping through, running his fingers along the pages as if greeting an old friend, was a title Logan recognized: a philosophy tome he’d studied a few years ago. “Ah,” he said, trying not to sound too disparaging—the bond between a person and the books they loved was not one he chose to treat lightly. “I can’t say I’m much of an admirer of Carenn myself.”
The blond man looked up, seeming scandalized. “How so?” he demanded.
Logan shrugged. “I just don’t think that her ideas on human motivation and desire hold up when you compare them to more recent theories put forth in the field.”
“Bullshit,” the man said heatedly. “You’re not taking into account that—”
Logan quickly discovered that the other man was a good debater. True, some of his points were unsound and easy for Logan to pick apart, and when he got upset, he started to play fast and loose with ethical rules of debate—which did not go well for him, given Logan’s own stellar grasp of those same rules. Even so, he was easily one of the best opponents Logan had ever debated. He was witty and sharp, countering Logan’s arguments almost as fast as he could make them, an eager grin on his face like he was having the time of his life constructing logical threads as fast as he could think.
Logan found himself half reconsidering his assessment of the man as an annoyance. He was—he was Prince Janus’s valet, he’d said; yes, that was it. So it was entirely possible that Logan would see him with some regularity in future. He would, after all, be sharing a room with Janus. The pair of them had had the opportunity to negotiate personal terms for their marriage contract over the last six months, via messengers sent back and forth between them; one of Janus’s non-negotiables had been sharing a bedroom. Much to Logan’s displeasure, no amount of bargaining had gotten his fiance to back down on this point or even to provide an explanation for why he was so insistent upon it.
Still, if Logan was to spend so much time in close proximity to his new husband, it was likely he would meet this valet again, and not infrequently. With the man’s skill in conversation, Logan would admit that this was… an acceptable prospect. He would, of course, have to make it through the awkward conversation that would no doubt be required when his identity came to light; but that could be dealt with later. Not now. He was enjoying himself too much now to ruin it all.
“No, because—” Logan reached for one of the books strewn all across the window seat, the stack that had divided the space between the two men so neatly now long gone. His hand landed on a cool, textured thing that shifted under his fingers—the chain of his pocketwatch, which had been cast aside as the blond man picked apart the stack of books and forgotten in favor of the conversation.
Logan drew in a sharp inhale, dragging at the chain until the watch emerged from beneath a book and dangled in front of his face. “Shit,” he hissed, jamming the watch into his satchel and swinging his legs down to the ground. “I need to go now.” He wasn’t late—not quite—and he could make it back to the palace on time, but it was going to be a much nearer thing than he’d planned.
“Already?” The other man seemed disappointed.
“You’ll have to as well, I suppose,” Logan said over his shoulder, making his way out of the nook. He waited for just a second, weight shifting back and forth between his heels, until the man followed.
“Why, what for?”
“It’s nearly four. You’ll have to help your master prepare for the evening soon, I expect,” Logan said, taking off once more at a brisk pace. He caught a glimpse of Rodolfo, lingering near the entrance to the store, who gave him a nod that Logan almost didn’t return in his panic.
“My—what?” the blond man asked blankly, following him down the street.
“Prince Janus?” Logan supplied, not understanding what had been confusing about his own statement.
“Oh. Oh! Yes, of course. The prince. Who I work for. Yes.” There was a pause. “Wait, it’s nearly four? Already?”
“Yes,” Logan snapped, speeding up his pace once more; he was nearly sprinting at this point. “We need to get back to the palace now.”
“So you do work there! Ha. Point for me.” The valet sounded altogether far too satisfied with himself.
“Yes, certainly, whatever, just keep moving,” Logan said irritably, pulse thrumming. So much for relaxing and destressing at the bookshop.
“You’re in an awful hurry. What’s so urgent that you have to be back right now?”
“I—I—” Logan struggled to come up with an explanation. “I’m expected to be—at work. Right now,” he managed at last, which was, technically, true, since, technically, being a prince was, technically, his job. “I lost track of time.”
“Are they that strict with you?” The man seemed alarmed.
“Today is rather important, if you hadn’t noticed!” Logan snapped. By this point, they’d left the town behind, and were making good time in the direction of the palace. “There is no room for error.”
“I suppose you’re right,” the man said, sounding somewhat subdued. After another moment, he added, more concerned now: “Oh. Oh, I do have to be there right now.”
“Yes!” Logan snapped. Was that only just now getting through to him? Logan had brought it up whole minutes ago.
“No need to be so touchy,” the man grumbled.
“I am a little keyed up,” Logan said tightly. “You’ll have to excuse me.”
“Oh, I’ll have to, will I?” the man teased. “Gracious. How demanding of you.”
Logan groaned. “Now is not the time.”
The valet huffed. “You’re no fun.”
“Now is not the time for fun!” Logan said, the distress he was trying so hard to contain leaking through to his voice.
“Well, there’s the palace up ahead now, and it’s not yet four. So you can calm down,” the man said, gesturing at the palace gates that had just come into view.
Logan stopped dead in his tracks. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. He was supposed to be inside the palace already, as far as the palace guards were concerned. Walking up to the front gate would raise questions he did not feel like answering. And he couldn’t show this near-stranger the secret way in—that was only for Logan and his brothers; he was almost certain that even their father didn’t know of it.
“What’s the matter now?” the man demanded, exasperated.
“I—I can’t go in that way,” Logan managed stiffly.
“Whyever not?” The man’s brow wrinkled.
“I—I can’t. I’ll—I’m not—I should—” He swallowed. “I—”
The man sighed. “Listen, just—stop worrying. Come with me. Whatever the problem is, I’ll vouch for you. It’ll be fine. Come on.” He grabbed Logan by the arm and dragged him down the road, ignoring Logan’s immediate and high-volume protests.
“You don’t understand!” Logan said, desperately trying to pull free.
“Then tell me!” the blond man, still exasperated, shot back, not letting go.
Logan, who would rather do almost anything else, bit the inside of his cheek and fell into fuming silence as they approached the gate.
“I’m with the entourage from Philos,” the blond man told the guard who stepped forward to stop them. He gestured to an insignia embroidered on his breast pocket.
“Unhand him,” the guard said, ignoring the man’s words entirely. Her voice was not outright threatening, but still very firm.
Looking a little confused, the man released Logan at last, who shot him a dirty look on principle.
“Your Highness, what are you doing outside the gates?” the guard asked Logan with a sigh, clearly trying not to sound tired.
“I think that is my own business,” Logan answered coolly, not feeling like explaining himself.
“Highness?” the blond man interrupted.
Logan froze, stiffening, shoulders drawing up towards his ears.
“You—wait—” The man stared at him for a second longer, shock written plainly on his features. “Are you Logan?”
“I—” Logan swallowed; he didn’t have time for this. He glanced around, then threw his pride to the wind and bolted in the direction of the tree beneath his window.
“Your Highness!” the guard shouted in an exasperated groan.
Logan ignored her; he knew the woman wouldn’t give chase now that he was safely within the palace grounds. He had three minutes until his own valet would be knocking on his bedroom door to help him dress and prepare for dinner. If he hurried, it was just possible no one would know he’d been gone.
Well. Except for his fiance’s valet, apparently. But neither he nor the guard at the gate would have the opportunity to tell Logan’s father, and so Logan would not get a stern talking-to about it. So that was fine.
He scaled the tree quickly, hands and feet finding their way up almost by muscle memory, and hoisted himself over the windowsill. He closed the window behind himself, threw his satchel into the closet and his boots after it, and climbed into bed, hastily depositing his spectacles on the sidetable. Virgil had told people Logan was napping; who was Logan to prove him wrong?
A bare thirty seconds after he’d successfully made it to his bed, there was a soft rap at the door. “My Prince?” his valet called.
Logan drew in a long breath and threw back the covers. Time to face the music, however unpleasant.
***
An hour and a half later, Logan had been cleaned from head to toe—not that he had been particularly dirty in the first place. His loose, dark curls were set into neat coils atop his head, combed through with oil till they gleamed and held their shape perfectly; a silver circlet, set with three diamond-shaped sapphires in the front, rested on his head, just at the juncture between where his hair was kept very short and the longer curly area on top. His outfit, likewise, was all of silver and sapphire—his long-sleeved shirt and stockings were sapphire blue, and his knee-length trousers and matching jacket were heavy silver brocade, with piping along the hems bordered by several rows of of tiny sapphires. The jacket, which tucked in at the waist and then flared out just slightly, had puffed elbow-length sleeves with slashes showing off a brilliant sapphire silk lining; its collar was high and buttoned all the way up, forcing Logan to raise his chin and keep his posture perfect. He wore short boots made of a very soft sapphire-blue suede, with cuffs that folded down about his ankles and fine silver detailing on the toes and heels. His nails were clean and tidy and several rings had been placed on various fingers—most of them to match the outfit, plus one to represent his engagement and another bearing the crest of the royal family. A cape was pinned to his shoulders, made of the same silver brocade and lined with sapphire silk; silver rope trim and tassels trimmed the area where it was attached to his shoulders.
He looked every inch a prince. He was also not certain he’d be able to stomach any food at all from how badly his gut was churning with nerves.
When he was deemed ready at last, Logan was shooed out to the common area of the suite he shared with his brothers—mostly the twins, since Virgil had technically moved into his own separate suite after his marriage, just as Logan would do next week—where his brothers were waiting for him. The twins, chasing each other around the room and hardly taking any notice of Logan’s arrival, were wearing silver outfits clearly reminiscent of Logan’s. Instead of blue, their outfits were accented with the customary green and red that the palace tailors had long ago decided would be used to differentiate their public images. Virgil, whose presence was a surprise to Logan, was standing by the door out of the suite, wearing his most formal crown and a velvet outfit all of dark purple—he was higher-ranking than Logan and did not have to defer to him in dress style tonight like the twins did.
Virgil opened one arm as soon as he saw Logan; Logan gratefully rushed into the hug. He was not generally the most tactile person, but hugs from his father or Virgil were an exception—they were warm and protective and grounding and made Logan feel safe.
“I thought you’d be arriving with Remy?” Logan asked. Usually Virgil accompanied his husband to events, not his brothers; Logan had not expected to see him until he arrived at the event itself.
“He’s meeting us partway there,” Virgil said. “I thought you might appreciate a bit of support beforehand.” He squeezed Logan’s shoulders, firm and soothing.
“I do,” Logan said. “Appreciate it. You being here. Thank you.” He struggled to keep his voice steady.
“Of course.” Virgil released Logan and carefully poked the puffed sleeves of Logan’s jacket, slightly displaced by the hug, back into place. “Ready?”
“Does it matter?” Logan let out a shaky laugh.
Virgil gave him a rueful smile in acknowledgment. “Fair. But it matters to me.”
“Thank you.” Logan swallowed. “I would rather not think about it, though. Let’s—let’s go.”
Virgil nodded. “Hey!” he called, sharp and loud, and Remus and Roman both looked over from where Remus was repeatedly whapping Roman about the head and shoulders with a throw pillow. “Time to go,” Virgil said firmly.
“So I win!” Remus said, throwing the pillow in Roman’s face and darting across the room to wait by the door.
“No—no, you cheated—” Roman tossed the pillow back onto the sofa and joined the rest of his brothers.
Virgil took a moment to smooth each of the twins’ ruffled hair and outfits, then nodded. “Alright, let’s be off.”
“Sore loser,” Remus muttered, poking Roman in the ribs as they followed Virgil out the door.
“Cheater,” Roman grumbled back, swatting his twin’s hand away.
“How do you cheat at pillow fighting? No, come on, tell me. I want to know.”
“You are the worst!”
“Hey,” Virgil said again, warningly. “Save it for later. We’re princes tonight.”
Both the twins grumbled at him, but Virgil’s word was law among the brothers, and by the time they made it to the hall where Virgil’s husband Remy was waiting, Logan’s younger brothers were as close to demure as they ever got.
“Thought you got lost,” Remy greeted with a teasing grin, falling into step beside Virgil.
Logan, walking just behind them, didn’t need to see Virgil’s face to know exactly how he was rolling his eyes. “Don’t give me another thing to worry about tonight, Remy,” he said, sounding amused.
“Rude. Being an inconvenience is what I live for.”
“I’ve noticed, thanks.” Virgil set his shoulders as the group came to a halt outside a set of gilded doors that led into the largest dining room, the one used to host public dinners; these particular doors were for royal entrances. He looked back at his brothers. “Ready?”
Logan fell back; as one of the guests of honor, he was to be presented last. The guards opened the doors a moment or two later, allowing Virgil—Remy’s arm laid formally on his—through first with the fanfare that accompanied him as Crown Prince; then the twins, together, each getting in one last shove at each other’s ribs before they stepped through the door and their demeanors became just a little more composed and formal.
“His Royal Highness, Prince Logan of Sanders,” the herald announced, and Logan stepped through the doors, head held high and heart thrumming rapidly in his chest. There was polite applause, and Logan stepped forward.
Virgil broke away from Remy and the twins, escorting Logan towards the dais where their father waited. “Logan, sir,” he said formally, accompanying the announcement with a bow, and then he stepped away, allowing the focus of the room to undoubtedly fall upon Logan.
King Romulus gave Logan a tiny, reassuring smile before smoothing his face back to the placid, confident look that he wore in public. He rose to stand beside Logan, putting a hand on his shoulder. “On behalf of the kingdom of Sanders, we would like to welcome Prince Janus and the envoy from Philos,” he announced.
That was the cue for the High Chancellor of Philos, the head of the envoy, to approach the dais and present Prince Janus. Logan closed his eyes briefly, drawing in a deep breath and willing himself to be calm, willing the nervous adrenaline coursing through him to dissipate, willing his hands to be still and steady.
“His Royal Highness Prince Janus of Philos, my lords,” the High Chancellor said, and Logan opened his eyes just as the woman stepped aside, presenting Logan’s fiance.
The man from the bookstore, now dressed in a resplendent outfit of gold and with his hair tied back so that the famous snake-shaped birthmark high on his cheekbone was visible—though “snake-shaped” seemed to be an exaggeration; it was a crooked red mark, a squiggle at best—gave Logan a somewhat sheepish grin and wiggled his fingers in a tiny wave that would not be visible from off the dais.
The nervousness churning in Logan’s stomach abruptly resolved itself into embarrassment, then fury.
So—so this was Janus? He’d been talking to and arguing with and laughing with Janus, that whole time? Logan felt irrationally betrayed. What kind of person just lied about his identity to his own fiance? He’d been trying so hard for so long to learn anything about Janus, to form some kind of connection, learn what the man he would be in the company of every day for potentially the rest of his life was like, and Janus had repaid him by lying to his face? How dare he.
Janus took in the furious expression on Logan’s face; his own expression wavered, uncertain and vulnerable for a split second, then smoothed over into a patently false impassiveness.
Logan could not find it in himself to care. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” he said, rote and cold and making it as clear as possible that he meant the opposite.
Janus’s lips pressed together. “Likewise,” he responded with a careful neutrality.
Logan’s father sent him a warning look. “We welcome you to our kingdom, your highness, and hope that your stay will be a pleasant one,” he said to Janus.
The introductions thus made, however perfunctorily, the dinner could get underway; Logan, much to his displeasure, found himself seated between Virgil and Janus. Across from them, Remy and the twins quickly got into a debate over the best methods to a food fight—presumably as the second best option to actually having a food fight—which left even fewer avenues for Logan to avoid conversation with Janus.
“Small world, I suppose,” Janus said after a minute or so of Logan pointedly ignoring him.
Logan frowned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He didn’t need a scolding from Virgil for sneaking out, not on top of everything else.
“Fine, be like that,” Janus mumbled, but after a minute he tried again. “…Are there any philosophers you do like?”
“No,” Logan said, which was patently untrue. He glared at his plate, stabbing a chunk of potato viciously with a fork.
Virgil pressed the side of his foot warningly against Logan’s shin. “Weren’t you just telling me last week about Quelby’s philosophy of the mind?” he said mildly.
Janus visibly perked up.
“No,” Logan repeated more emphatically. Virgil’s foot pressed harder against his; Logan ignored it.
He proceeded to continue ignoring Virgil’s less and less subtle kicks to his shin throughout the evening, and pointedly rejected every attempt both Virgil and Janus made to draw him into conversation. Eventually Virgil gave up and simply kept up a conversation with Janus, asking after his brother Patton, and how Janus’s journey to Sanders had been, casting Logan disapproving looks every so often.
The dinner lasted two hours; it felt much longer. But at last, with the requisite formalities completed and a formulaic farewell uttered, Logan was ushered from the dining room and away towards his chambers.
It was a brief reprieve. Virgil followed him only moments later, catching up to him just outside the door to the royal suite. “Hey. What was that?” he demanded, grabbing Logan by the shoulder and turning him around to face him.
Logan avoided his eyes. “What was what?”
“Your behavior towards Janus was unacceptable. You said—”
“I’m still not going to do anything that will jeopardize the marriage! I just—I don’t like him!”
Virgil absorbed this, lips pursing disapprovingly. “You know what? I do not care in the slightest what you think of Janus as a person. The way you treated him was completely inexcusable.” He shook his head, looking disappointed. “I thought better of you.”
Logan felt Virgil’s word like a physical blow to the gut, throat closing up. That wasn’t fair. Virgil wasn’t even considering Logan’s point of view. He was displaying blatant favoritism towards a near-stranger over his own brother. Logan dug his nails into the palms of his hands until the pricking at the corners of his eyes went away. “But—but Virgil, he—”
“The first time I visited Philos as the head of our kingdom’s envoy,” Virgil interrupted, voice frighteningly level, “I had five panic attacks in two days. Prince Patton helped me through three of them and afterwards helped me to get accommodations to lower my anxiety—at great inconvenience to himself, I might add. His kindness is the only reason I was able to remain collected enough to represent our kingdom well, and that experience helped shape me into the man I am today. I came out stronger and more sure of myself because of it, but my anxiety that week could easily have destroyed my political career. I believe it would have, if it weren’t for the kindness Patton chose to extend to me when he barely knew me. Do you understand?”
“I—Virgil—” Logan protested weakly, voice growing less certain.
“And I was there as a visitor,” Virgil drove the point home. “For only a week. Janus is all alone and he is going to spend the rest of his life here. I don’t care how you feel about him, you are to be his husband. Do better.”
Logan felt very small, his gut churning with shame—not so much out of regret for his actions as it was for the disappointment and anger in Virgil’s tone, Virgil who normally praised and encouraged him, Virgil whose approval meant the world. Virgil who was now giving Logan the kind of angry stare he usually reserved for particularly annoying diplomats.
Virgil looked at Logan for a moment longer, then turned on his heel and walked away without a word.
-
Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @theimprobabledreamersworld
Possibly harmful things y’all need to be careful of when writing sanders sides characters (that isn’t to say you can’t write them, but be careful with how you do)
Trans Janus - making the “liar” trans? Not a great idea if he’s the only character you ever write as trans.
Soft Virgil - not all soft Virgil is bad, but you do have to be mindful of how you write it, don’t make Virgil like a baby or a child (unless they’re literally a child in the writing you’re doing)
Aromantic Remus - there’s plenty of lovely aro Remus content, I’m personally an arospec Remus kinnie so it does pop up in my writing, but again, it’s about how you write it. Please be careful that you’re not stepping into the category of “Remus can’t love at all” esp since he’s intrusive thoughts and that can easily demonize the subject
Autistic Logan - god there’s so many fucking stereotypes you have to avoid to do autistic Logan, and it’s great to have autistic Logan for projection, but y’all gotta be careful, avoid “autistic people are all extremely smart” “autistic people can’t experience emotion” just check yourself with the stereotypes - there’s def a lot of reasons lo could be autistic, just be careful with how you write it
Aromantic Logan / Asexual Logan - just don’t make Logan aro/ace because “Logan doesn’t have emotions emotionless robot” once again, don’t add to the stereotype that aromantic people don’t experience love at all or make him completely emotionless
Logan with OCD - as someone who is fairly certain they have OCD, this one sometimes bothers me, because this idea of “OCD is just people who are neat” HAS TO GO. please be careful about that.
Generally marginalized groups should not always be your antagonists. Not everyone sees Janus as an antagonist, of course, but. Just be careful of it.
Oh yeah also don’t tag your drawings as BLM even if they’re in support of the cause and don’t tag your Remus content as intrusive thoughts (you can use intrusive thot if you want). It clogs up the tags for other people.
Usually you can break these all being stereotypes by adding another character that is in that group too. For example, making not only Remus aromantic, but making Roman aromantic too.
But please be mindful. Write the characters you want, continue to project (esp if it’s a coping mechanism!!!), but just be careful of the ideas that you’re putting out there!!
Feel free to add on. Obviously my white ass doesn’t know everything.
eyo trans rights someone mentioned doing trans sides and I am the right author for that lmao janus is flipping of transphobes dispassionately because he cares about their opinion that little.
Here’s the links: Plea for My New Self A Whole Castle Slopes
I might do another with some other identities I have a wide variety to choose from
Summary: Remus' decision to babysit a kid for a couple nights to earn some extra cash ends up getting him in over his head when the kid tells him something the parents didn't mention.
In all fairness, Roman had told him he was probably getting in over his head. Remus was the idiot who didn’t believe him.
He just needed money. If he was actually going to be able to afford all the spray paints he wanted for his new art project by the roller rink, he was going to need a lot more money than he had. Curse him and his ambitious ideas.
Remus considered himself lucky when he quickly found a family willing to pay 60 bucks a night to watch their eight year old kid. Roman took one look at the offer and said he was definitely going to be dealing with a brat.
“Why else would they pay so much?” he asked, giving the flyer a suspicious look.
“So? I need, like, two hundred bucks to get the kind and amount of spray paint I need. I’d only have to watch the bratty kid for four nights and I’d be good. I can set her up in front of a movie she really likes, make her some mac and cheese for dinner, and it’ll be all good.”
“I think you’re underestimating kids, Re. You have met Patton and Logan, right?”
Patton and Logan were Virgil’s little brothers, and Remus honestly wasn’t sure why he was bringing them up, because they were both absolute sweethearts. Sure, Logan could sometimes get a chip on his shoulder about being too old for a babysitter, and Patton could be a bit of a crybaby sometimes, but otherwise Remus never minded when Virgil brought his friends along for a hangout. Especially when Patton teased Roman about liking Virgil, and Remus got to watch him go bright red with embarrassment.
Well okay, granted, Logan had been much more insufferable when he was Patton’s age. But Patton was still a sweetheart.
“I’m telling you, I’ve got this,” he said, waving Roman’s concerns off. “It’s just one little girl, anyway. How hard could it be?”
This was the attitude Remus took with him when going to the Ekans house the following night. The parents sent him the address, and the mom was waiting outside.
“Hi, Mrs. Ekans,” Remus said, putting on his ‘I am talking to an adult that I respect’ voice. “I’m Remus.”
“Yes, hello dear,” she said. “I was so happy to get your call. It can be rather hard to find a babysitter to deal with Janice, what with how she can get with all her silly fantasies.”
Remus tipped his head in confusion. “Silly fantasies?”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it. You don’t need to indulge her, dear, we’ve told her many times that no one who watches her will be doing so. But anyway, here’s ten dollars for a tip, we ordered a pizza, the delivery man should be here any minute, so you won’t have to worry about dinner.”
“Thanks,” Remus said, taking the money and putting it in his pocket to grab when the delivery person showed up.
The door opened behind the two of them and a man came out, adjusting a tie. Behind him, a girl in a sparkly pink dress stood in the doorway, who could only be Janice.
“Oh, good,” the man said when he noticed Remus. “Janice, your babysitter’s here, be good for him, okay?” He turned to Remus. “Bedtime is at 8, pizza’s on the way, otherwise you should be good to go.”
“Thanks,” Remus said again, heading past him and into the house. They both waved at Janice as they left, who notably did not wave back.
As soon as the car drove off, Remus shut the door and turned to face Janice. “Well, sweetheart—” he started.
“First of all,” Janice snapped, sounding so furious that it took Remus aback. He had barely even said anything yet. “I have rules.”
Remus raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that kind of my job?”
“No!” Janice screamed, stamping her foot. “You are here for me, that means I’m the boss! First of all, don’t ever call me sweetheart. And I am going into my room to change into my real clothes, and you aren’t going to stop me!”
Remus’ brow furrowed. “What’s wrong with the clothes you have on now?” he asked.
“Dresses are for girls,” Janice snapped, voice filled with way more vitriol than Remus expected. “I’m a boy. And you are not going to take away the only chance I get to wear my real clothes!” And, like that decided that, he turned and stormed away towards the back of the house and where his room no doubt was.
Remus looked after the kid, blinking for a second as he tried to process everything that had just happened. So that’s what Mrs. Ekans meant by silly fantasies.
Well, fuck, he was way out of his depth with shit like this.
The kid came out of the hallway a couple minutes later wearing a t-shirt and shorts. And while the t-shirt was still bright pink, he at least looked a little more comfortable than he had in a dress.
“Okay, J— kid,” Remus said. “So let me see if I’ve got this right. You say you’re a boy?”
“Yes,” the kid snapped. “And you don’t get to say otherwise, you got it?”
“Hey, understood,” Remus said, holding his hands up. “Can I just ask a question?”
The kid narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “What?”
“Do you want me to still use the name your parents gave me, or do you want me to call you something else?”
The kid seemed to grow even more suspicious at that question. “Mom didn’t tell you not to indulge my silly fantasies?”
“Doesn’t seem to me like there’s anything silly about it,” Remus said with a shrug. “I was just wondering if you had a different name picked out.”
The kid’s eyes widened slightly, though not enough to stop looking suspicious. “You can do that?”
“Of course you can,” Remus said, taking a couple steps forward and kneeling down in front of the kid. “I have a friend named Virgil who changed his name. He used to be called Jacob, but he hated that name. He thought it was boring.”
“He was right,” the kid said instantly. Remus laughed.
The kid seemed to think for a minute. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I didn’t know you could do that.”
“Do you want me to use the name your parents gave me, then?”
“No,” the kid snapped instantly, looking angry again.
“Okay. Got it. For now, I’ll just call you kid. How’s that?”
The kid seemed to consider that for a minute, then nodded. “Okay.”
Remus smiled. “Okay. So your parents said that a pizza delivery person should be here soon. Do you want to watch a movie while we eat?”
“No,” the kid snapped. “Movies are stupid.”
Remus blinked. “Okay. What do you want to do while we eat?”
“I want to sit in silence and do nothing!” the kid snapped.
Remus blinked again. “Uh, I’m not so sure that would be very fun.”
“You’re not fun anyway!” the kid screamed.
Remus was honestly a little offended. How dare this child say he wasn’t fun? He could be super fun! Before he could reply to correct this wildly false statement, the doorbell rang.
Remus stood up and headed over to the door, and opened it to see, as expected, the pizza delivery person.
“Thanks,” Remus said, taking the pizza and pulling out the ten dollar bill Mrs. Ekans had left him. He handed it to the delivery person, who thanked him and headed back towards the car parked out front. Remus shut the door and carried the pizza over to the table, and the kid came over after him and grabbed one of the plates that had been left out on the counter.
“Give me two pieces,” he said, holding the plate out to Remus.
“Let’s start with one,” Remus said, taking the plate.
“No!” the kid snapped. “I want two!”
“Kid, I’m gonna start you with one,” Remus said, taking a piece of pizza and putting it on the plate.
“No!” the kid snapped again. “I want two pieces! I’m hungry, are you trying to tell me I shouldn’t eat until I’m full? That can have harmful consequences!”
Remus took a deep breath. “I am going to start you with one. If you want another piece after you finish that one, I will happily give you one.”
“I want two right now!” the kid screamed, stamping his foot.
Remus squeezed his eyes shut. “Nope,” he said, handing the kid the plate.
The kid narrowed his eyes, and Remus had a second to wonder if eight year olds still threw temper tantrums, when instead the kid shot Remus a glare that could kill and stomped into the other room and sat down on the couch.
Remus took a piece of pizza and put it on the plate. This was about as bad as it was going to get, right?
…
“Kid, you need to go to bed,” Remus said, leaning against the door frame, looking at the kid who was sitting resolutely and reading through a book.
“Why should I? Bedtime is a social construct.”
“Oh my god,” Remus groaned, looking up at the ceiling. This had been a recurring theme for most of the night. The kid’s father was apparently a philosophy nerd, and the kid listened in on a lot of his conversations about the subject with his wife, and had turned that into a belief that all of society was a construct and he could do whatever he wanted. He was brilliant for an eight year old. And it was as annoying as all fuck.
“Look,” Remus said. “If you go to bed now, next time I come, I’ll bring you a surprise.”
“What kind of surprise?” the kid asked, narrowing his eyes. “How could any surprise you give me be worth it?”
“Well, if you don’t go to bed now, you’ll never know,” Remus pointed out.
The kid seemed to know exactly what Remus was doing with that, but he also finally put the book aside and laid his head down on his pillow. Remus flicked off the lights and shut the door, and finally let out a breath.
He made his way back out to the living room, put the remaining pizza in the fridge, and then collapsed on the couch.
“Children are exhausting,” he said to no one.
By the time the kid’s parents got back Remus was ready to go home and sleep for a week and a half. But that was a feeling that faded as soon as Mr. Ekans walked through the door and opened his mouth.
“How was she?” he asked, putting the car keys on a hook by the wall. “She didn’t give you too much trouble, did she?”
Remus had to fight to keep from grinding his teeth. “Fine,” he said, keeping his voice as pleasant as he could. “The flyer said I should come back Saturday next, right?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Ekans said, pulling out her wallet and thumbing out the sixty dollars in cash. She handed it over, and Remus took it. “I’m glad things went well. Janice has been known to drive away a few sitters in the past.”
I can’t imagine why.
Remus got out of the house as quickly as he could. He had some thinking to do, and he wasn’t going to do it in front of a couple of transphobic pieces of shit.
…
By the time Saturday arrived Remus had a battle plan. Roman had been amused when Remus had described the first night as “frustrating,” but had been surprised when Remus had been determined to go back. Remus left out most of the details that weren’t his to share, though he imagined Roman must have figured something was up when he spent most of the week researching boy names and hairstyles.
When he got to the Ekans house next time, the kid looked surprised to see him, and Remus couldn’t say he blamed him. He tried to smile and nod whenever possible, as hopefully it would get the kid’s parents out the door faster. The second they left Remus took off the backpack he’d brought and moved over to sit on the couch. “Hey, kid, c’mere.”
“No. Why?”
“I’ve got something for ya. I promised you a surprise if you went to bed, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but I turned the lamp on again as soon as you left the room.”
Remus sighed. “Of course you did. Come here anyway.”
The kid looked curious, and given that it was one of the few times he hadn’t been glaring at him, Remus would take it as a good sign.
“So I did some research these past couple days,” Remus said, starting with the notebook. “And I found some names you might like.”
“Wait, what?” the kid sat on the couch and took the notebook from him. “What do you mean you looked at names for me?”
“Well, you said you didn’t know what you wanted your name to be. I don’t really want to call you ‘kid’ forever. If you don’t like any of these we can keep looking, though.”
The kid turned and stared at him. “But I was mean to you.”
“You’re the kid I’m babysitting,” Remus said, smirking at him. “I think I can take it. Besides, what does that have to do with your name?”
“Why are you being nice to me if I was mean to you?”
“Being nice and basic human decency are two different things. You can be the snottiest kid in the world, that doesn’t mean I’m going to start treating you like a girl.”
The kid’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really. You say you’re a boy, I believe you, and I’ll treat you as such, okay?”
To Remus’ surprise, the kid’s eyes welled up with tears.
“Oh shit, don’t cry. Hang on—”
The kid threw himself at Remus’ and buried his head in his side. Remus awkwardly patted him on the back and waited until the kid stopped crying, after which he pulled back and wiped at his eyes, still sniffling. “Mommy always says I shouldn’t make people indulge me,” he whispered.
“I’m not indulging anything,” Remus said. “This is what you said you want, and it should be respected. If you change your mind later, that’s fine too. But even if you do, I’m not going to treat you in any way that makes you miserable in the meantime.”
The kid sniffed again and wiped at his eyes. He looked like he didn’t know what to say, which was fair.
After a moment, he picked up the notebook and started looking at the names, sometimes pointing at one he didn’t know and asking Remus to read it. He stopped at one on page three.
“You just wrote Janice,” he said. “I thought you said I didn’t have to use that name.”
“J-a-n-u-s is a masculine spelling,” Remus said. “I just figured if you liked the way your name sounded but didn’t like that it was associated with being a girl, that was an option.”
The kid looked at it for a while longer. “You could use this one around my parents,” he said.
“Technically, yes,” Remus said.
The kid turned and looked at him. “Where does Janus come from?”
“It’s the name of a Roman god,” Remus said. “He’s the god of doors, gates, and beginnings. He has two faces.”
The kid started to grin. “I could be named after a god?”
“If that’s what you want.”
He started nodding. “I like that. I like that a lot. And it could be like lying to my parents. They’re forcing me to lie to everyone else, but this way I get to lie to them.”
Remus started to smile too. “Yeah? You think that’s the one?”
“Definitely. And besides, if I don’t like later it I can change it again, right?”
“Of course you can.”
Janus beamed at him. “Yeah. That’s the one.”
“Awesome,” Remus said, leaning over and ruffling his hair. “Now, onto the second manner of business.”
“There’s more?”
“Yep.” Remus reached into his bag and pulled out a hairbrush and ponytail holders. “So I’m not going to cut your hair without your parent’s permission or I’d get fired. But I have a couple ways I can deal with your hair as it is right now if you want to.”
Janus nodded quickly, and turned around so Remus could get to his hair more easily, “So we could put it up in a bun so it’s out of your face, or I could move the curls further behind your head so it looks more like a style than just you having longer curly hair.”
“What would a style look like?” Janus asked.
“Alright, give me a sec,” Remus said. He grabbed the bobby pins he’d borrowed from his mother and used them to tuck Janus’ curls further behind his head. He turned Janus around after a moment and brushed some of the curls across his forehead so they looked more like bangs.
“Alright,” he said, sitting back. “Here, check that out.” He pulled out the mirror he brought with him, and handed it to Janus.
His eyes widened as he looked in it. “Woah. You did this with my hair?”
“Mm-hmm,” Remus said. “You like it?”
Janus grinned at him again and nodded. Then his gaze turned curious. “Why are you doing all this?”
“I already told you—”
“No, I mean… Mommy says boys and girls can’t change who they are. She says I’m a girl no matter what I do.”
“Bah,” Remus said, waving the concept away. “Gender is a social construct.”
Janus snorted.
“You laugh, but it’s true. Have you ever heard the term ‘transgender’ before?”
Janus shook his head.
“It’s a term people can use to describe themselves when their gender doesn’t match the one they were born as. Plenty of people describe themselves that way. I’m friends with a couple on the internet.”
Janus looked fascinated, and almost painfully hopeful. “Not just me?”
“Definitely not just you.”
Janus sat back, seeming to take a minute to process that. “Can you show me?” he asked, looking back up at Remus.
And so they spent most of the day on Remus’ phone looking at transgender people and stories and definitions. Remus made sure to steer clear of any discourse or transphobia. Janus had enough to deal with already without having to learn about that on a broad scale yet.
By the time Janus’ parents texted Remus saying they were on their way back, they’d been there for hours.
“Okay,” Remus said, setting the phone aside. “I should probably take your hair down now.”
Janus sighed, even though he seemed to have expected that. “Okay,” he mumbled.
“We can put it back up next time I come, okay?” Remus said.
Janus nodded. “Yeah, we fucking better.”
Remus coughed in surprise. “Wha— where did you learn that word?”
Janus grinned at him. “You’ll never fucking know.”
Remus laughed despite himself. Okay, so maybe this kid wasn’t so terrible.
…
Things went smoother for the last two times Remus had signed up to babysit him. Janus had so obviously needed some kind of positive role model, because the second Remus reassured him that he believed him and would treat him as a boy, Janus got loads easier to handle. At the end of the third time Remus babysat for him, Janus looking at him very seriously and told him that he was clearly one of those rare smart adults.
“Well, technically I’m a teenager,” Remus admitted.
Janus nodded. “Oh. That explains it.”
Remus blinked at him. Well, this kid was definitely going to turn into even more of a nightmare as he got older.
Roman seemed more than a little surprised that Remus hit it off with the kid so well, and when Remus eventually mentioned it to Virgil, he got the same result. But Remus would just shrug and say something generic along the lines of “We just clicked, I guess.”
He found himself actually looking forward to the last time he was supposed to babysit, which unfortunately came with a realization that this would be the last time he babysat for Janus. The time passed much too quickly, and Remus, at the end of the night, was not looking forward to leaving.
So for once, an interaction from Janus’ parents brought a positive consequence.
“You just make Janice so happy,” Mrs. Ekans said. “And that’s not really something that happens with her very often.”
I can’t imagine why.
“I know this wasn’t supposed to be a long term thing, but if you would be willing to become her regular babysitter, we’ll pay you eighty a night instead of sixty.”
Well, Remus probably would have agreed even without the pay raise, especially after he noticed Janus watching hopefully from the hallway, but the extra twenty a night didn’t hurt either. In the end, after what was basically the opposite of a long and hard decision, Remus agreed, and was now going to spend his Saturdays (and many week nights) watching a kid that he was quickly growing to care for.
Janus plopped himself down on the couch next to Remus a second after he showed up next time, with his lip wobbling and sniffling in a way that immediately made Remus nervous.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“Do you only like me because my parents pay you?” Janus asked.
“What? Of course not, I love hanging out with you,” Remus said, relieved he was actually telling the truth.
Janus brightened immediately. “Cool! So if we’re actually friends does that mean you can take me out for ice cream?”
Remus blinked at him for a couple seconds, trying to figure out how in the hell he just got played by an eight year old. Regardless, they ended up at an ice cream parlor that day.
There came times Virgil had to watch his little brothers too, and Virgil must have told them about Janus, because one day Virgil texted him asking if they could maybe set up a playdate with the little girl he babysat. Remus winced, but said he’d bring it up next time he was there.
“Their names are Patton and Logan,” he said to Janus, who was looking up at him over the the drawing he was making. He’d become insistent on drawing better than Remus ever since he’d shown him one of his pieces. “They’re Virgil’s little brothers. They want to meet you.”
Janus bit his lip. “Do I have to pretend to be a girl around them?”
“Kid, that is entirely up to you,” Remus said. “I haven’t told them yet because you haven’t given me permission. I can tell you they won’t mind, if you’re worried about that.”
Janus gave that a moment of thought. “Okay. You can tell them I’m a boy. If you’re really sure they won’t mind.”
“I’m sure.”
Janus nodded. “Okay. Can they not come here though?”
“I don’t think we picked a place to go yet. But we could go to a park, or possibly Virgil's house. We’d have to run it by everyone’s parents.”
“Ugh. Well that’s not gonna work out then,” Janus said, turning back to his drawing. “My parents never want me to do anything that makes me happy.”
Remus felt his heart crack at that. He didn’t know how to explain to the kid the difference between his parents being transphobic and his parents never wanting him to be happy. He supposed the end result was the same either way. But Remus couldn’t imagine them having an issue with Janus meeting some other kids. He was apparently pretty lonely.
“Give it a chance,” he said eventually. “They could surprise you.”
Janus gave him a look of such doubt that Remus considered, not for the first time, murdering Janus’ parents and hiding their transphobic asses out in the shed.
Luckily, Remus was at least right in Janus’ parents wanting him to meet new kids. And he was of course also right about none of his friends having a problem with Janus being trans, although they seemed sad for the kid when they learned what his parents were like. Good. Remus would have lost respect for them if they didn’t.
They ended up meeting over at Virgil’s house, which was good, because Remus had a sneaking suspicion Janus’ parents would not have approved of Patton, and his love for all things pink and/or sparkly. They walked through the front door and saw Virgil and Roman sitting on the couch chatting as Logan was doing a puzzle nearby. Patton was sitting next to him, coloring in a coloring book and wearing a bright pink sparkly dress similar to the one Remus had met Janus in. Janus’ eyes got really big when he saw Patton, and he hid behind Remus’ leg.
“I thought you said Patton was a boy,” he whispered.
“He is,” Remus replied. “Patton likes wearing pink sparkly dresses, but that doesn’t make him any less of a boy.”
Virgil glanced up and waved. “Hey, Remus. Guys, Remus and Janus are here.”
Patton and Logan both glanced up, and then Patton hopped up and ran across the room. “Hi!” he said, sticking out his hand. “I’m Patton! Virgil says you’re eight just like me!”
Janus slowly stepped out from behind Remus’ leg and shook Patton’s hand. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Janus. J-a-n-u-s. It’s the boy spelling. Because I’m a boy.”
Patton grinned at him. “Yeah, Remus told us! I think that’s really cool! Do you want to come color with me?”
It was clear Janus didn’t know quite what to do with that, but he nodded anyway, and Patton took his hand and dragged him over to where he’d been coloring. Remus noted Logan saying hi as he did so, and including a note about how he was ten and too old for a babysitter. Remus walked over to sit on the couch next to Virgil and Roman.
“That went about like I’d expected,” he said, nodding at Patton.
Virgil snorted. “Yeah, pretty much,” he agreed, leaning back and ending up partly against Roman. Remus would have to tease him about how bright red his face got later.
Overall, the afternoon was a success. Janus and Patton got along very well, and they made a deal that next time, Janus would bring a sparkly dress and trade it for some of Patton’s more boyish clothes. Janus talked the whole drive home about how much he liked Patton.
“Even though he could be a little less bouncy,” Janus said. “He’s kind of a lot.”
“I get that,” Remus said. “Patton is a really excitable kid. He’ll mellow out the longer you know him.”
Janus nodded. “Good,” he said, and Remus laughed.
Just like Remus had expected, Janus’ parents were glad to see him happy from hanging out with other kids. Which unfortunately also meant they likely had no idea what had actually been happening at the playdate. It was definitely worth it, though. Janus gave Remus a hug, a beaming smile, and said he would see him on Saturday, before running off to his room still smiling.
Remus texted Virgil that they would have to do so again sometime soon.
…
Remus arrived on time Saturday, but Mr. and Mrs. Ekans were already rushing out the door, barely having time to hand Remus money for dinner, and saying something about getting something to cheer Janus up before they ran out their car and drove off.
Remus blinked as he watched them drive off, before processing the fact that they’d said something about cheering Janus up. He headed inside, looking around and hoping to find him.
“Janus?” he called, but no one responded. He started looking around the living room and found no one, there wasn’t anyone in the kitchen, not even the cabinets, and Remus checked in all their usual hide and seek places, but didn’t find anything.
“Janus?” he called, sticking his head into his room. There still wasn’t anyone obviously in there, but just as Remus was about to leave he heard sniffing that sounded like it was coming from under the bed.
He shut the door quietly behind him and pulled up the blankets, and there was Janus, curled into a ball.
“Kiddo?” he asked quietly.
“Adults are stupid,” Janus said. “They don’t understand anything.”
“As a seventeen year old I wholeheartedly agree,” Remus said, trying to get a chuckle or a smile, but not succeeding. “Are we talking about something specific?”
“They just don’t understand,” Janus said, tucking his head into his knees. “No matter how many times I explain it to them they don’t get it. I don’t want to be a girl, Remus. I mean, am I just explaining it wrong? If I explain it enough times they have to understand, right?” He sniffed. “I just have to explain it a few more times, right?”
“Oh, kiddo,” Remus murmured, reaching a hand under the bed. Janus grabbed it and let Remus help him out before burying his head in his chest.
“I thought they were supposed to love me,” Janus whispered. “Isn’t that what parents are supposed to do?”
“They do love you,” Remus tried to reassure, because he’d seen some proof of that. He’d seen the way they smiled when they saw Janus happy. They’d thanked him so many times, saying they were unsure of how he did it.
“No. They love J-a-n-i-c-e. They love the little girl they think they have. But that’s not who I am.” Janus looked up at him, tears pouring down his face. “Remus, why do they hate who I am?”
Remus didn’t have any good reply to that. He just gently pulled Janus back to his chest and rubbed his back. He wasn’t surprised when that just made Janus cry harder, but he didn’t know what else to do.
Janus pulled back and looked up at him after a second. “Remus?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you still like me if I was a girl?”
Remus had no idea what that question entailed. He nodded.
“And you like me even though I’m not?”
“Of course I do.”
“What if—” Janus sniffed. “What if I end up liking boys too or something? That would be even harder to explain.”
“I like boys,” Remus said instantly.
Janus sniffed again. “You do?”
Remus nodded. “Kid, you know what my mom said when I asked her about this stuff?”
“What?”
“She said love should never be conditional.”
“What does conditional mean?”
“It means, Janus,” Remus said, shifting so Janus could sit more comfortably on his lap. “That you could be trans, cis, gay, straight, a weird half snake man who wears a really stupid hat—”
Janus finally laughed a little at that.
“And if you ask me that question, the answer will always be ‘I love you,’ over and over.”
Janus blinked a couple times. “You mean you like me?”
“Nope. I mean I love you, kid. No matter what.”
Janus’ eyes got big, and tears welled up in them again. “Over and over?”
“Over and over,” Remus agreed.
Janus sniffed again, and leaned his head into Remus’ chest again. Remus wrapped his arms around him. “I am so sorry your parents can’t see what an amazing kid you are just as you are,” he murmured.
Remus held Janus tighter. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Adults don’t understand anything.”
…
Over the next couple months, Janus and Patton ended up trading half their wardrobe. Janus often had a monster truck or dinosaur shirt on within ten minutes of Remus coming over, though he would admit to Remus that those weren’t really his favorite. He said he liked the one with the cartoon snake on it. Remus spent the day going over shirts with more realistic snakes on them that Janus liked. In the end they purchased a couple that Remus said he would keep at his house for days that Janus came over there.
They also spent quite a few days at the park with Patton and Logan, sometimes with Virgil, sometimes with Virgil’s mom or dad. They felt bad about Janus’ situation too, and Remus could tell they wished they could be doing more. But Janus wasn’t being abused or neglected, and transphobic parents weren’t a legal reason that someone could be removed from a home. Remus was really doing about all he could for him. At least it seemed to be making Janus happier than he was. Sometimes, Janus told Remus everything he would do once he was too old for his parents to stop him. Fifteen, he said. When he was fifteen he would get a haircut. And Remus would come, right?
Remus would consider for a moment that he’d probably be in college at that point, but he couldn’t imagine leaving this kid to deal with his parents alone, no matter how old they both got, so the conversation always ended with Remus promising that he’d be there when Janus got his first real haircut at fifteen.
There were, of course, things to teach Janus about how to rebel against all of society, though the kid already had an excellent head start with all the philosophy he knew. Remus took him spray painting one time, and Janus sprayed all of curse words he knew on the wall. Remus couldn’t be prouder. They’d shoplifted together a couple times too. Remus made sure Janus understood that you couldn’t shoplift from a small business that would actually get hurt by it. Only big chains like Walmart. And no stealing in a way that would hurt the employees. Janus seemed to accept all of this easily. “It’s about eating the rich,” he said, nodding firmly. “Not hurting people who are already struggling.”
“You’ve got it,” Remus said with a proud smile.
But one of his favorite parts of being with Janus, after he spent one time at the park with Roman and Virgil, was how easily the kid picked up on how in love the two were.
“We have to do something about it,” Janus insisted. “They’re wasting time! They don’t have mean parents to worry about, why are they wasting time being scared?”
“I ask them that question all the damn time,” Remus said with a smirk.
“Okay,” Janus said, biting his lip as he started thinking. “We’re gonna come up with a plan.”
“Oh, are we? What are we doing?”
“I don’t know yet. Come help me.”
They spent the rest of that afternoon coming up with their plan, and planned to enact it that Saturday. They ended up at the ice cream parlor along with Patton and Logan, who were also in on the plan. Janus was there with Roman and Remus, and Patton and Logan were there with Virgil. The two in question were not aware that the other group was there. So, after a couple minutes, Janus loudly remarked to Roman that Patton was there, and could they go say hi.
“You know,” Janus said before Roman could reply. “I’m going to marry Patton one day.”
Roman smiled, his heart no doubt melting in the same way that Remus’ had when Janus had first told him this. “Are you?” Roman asked, taking a bite of his ice cream.
Janus nodded. “And he can wear a wedding dress, because he likes wearing dresses, and I can wear the tuxedo because I don’t like dresses, and you and Virgil can be the best men because it would be cool to have another married couple as the best men.”
Roman started coughing, and Remus patted him casually on the back as he struggled to stop turning bright red. “What— Virgil and I aren’t married!” Roman exclaimed.
Janus gasped. “What? Why not? When are you going to propose?”
“I— Janus, we’re not dating,” Roman said, turning more into a tomato by the second.
“What?” Janus said, sounding for all the life of him like he was heartbroken. “You have to ask him out then!”
“Janus—”
“Roman, it could mess up Patton and I’s whole wedding! You’re gonna mess up our wedding?” His lip wobbled in a way Remus could tell was fake three months ago, but Roman was clearly not there yet.
“I— look, kiddo, I do like Virgil, but—”
“Then go on! Time’s ticking, you have to get married before Patton and I do!” Janus called, jumping up and pulling Roman up out of his chair. “Go on, go on, go on!”
Roman was left with not much of a choice at that point, and he headed over towards the booth across the parlor, where an equally red-faced Virgil had appeared to have been having a similar conversation. Remus and Janus both followed him over. There was no way they were missing this.
Virgil stood up quickly when Roman got there, and they both started stammering something that was barely coherent, but in the end, Roman managed to get out something about dinner on Friday, and Virgil managed to nod.
All of the kids, and Remus cause what the hell, started to cheer.
“Look at that, we finally got your heads out of your asses!” Remus called, slapping Roman on the back, who smacked him on the arm right back.
“You all planned this, didn’t you?” Virgil asked, looking too embarrassed to be angry, though Remus had no doubt that would come later.
“Maybe,” Remus said, sliding into the booth after Janus, who was now sitting next to Patton.
“We correctly deduced you would never do anything yourselves,” Logan said with a smile from Patton's other side.
“Janus and I are still getting married one day though,” Patton said, completely seriously.
“Yes,” Janus said, nodding along. “And you two will be our best men.”
“Okay, slow down,” Roman said. “That’s taking things a little fast.”
“I think they figured they’d make up for all the time you two wasted,” Remus said with a grin.
“I’m going to kill you later,” Roman said.
“No, please, think of my children,” Remus said.
“What children?”
“Me!” Janus exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. Remus laughed and pulled him to his side, giving him a noogie.
As the conversation started to head back into a normal direction, Janus nudged Remus in the side. Remus glanced over.
“Sorry I made the children joke,” Janus said quietly.
“Oh, don’t be sorry. It’s true is what it is,” Remus said, ruffling his hair again. “I have adopted you. You can never get rid of me.”
Janus started smiling. “Promise?”
“Promise,” Remus said. “You know why?”
“‘Cause you love me over and over?”
“Because I love you over and over,” Remus said, giving Janus a quick side hug. “You nailed it, my little man.”
“Little man,” Janus said quietly, though he was still smiling really big, and Remus smiled back. “Little man. Yeah.”
Logan, walking into Janus’ room: Okay, so since you’re two stories above the kitchen, I thought it would be easier to come up and tell you Virgil is cooking and dinner would be in a half an hour instead of letting you figure it out on your own and what are you doing?
Janus, mid-putting makeup on, wearing a yellow sundress: You can’t tell anyone!
Logan: What makes you think I would? Also, here, the eyeliner is a teensy bit crooked, let me help so you look perfect for dinner.
Janus: I was going to take it off before dinner. I don’t want to look stupid. Everyone will treat me different.
Logan: You look beautiful, Janus. And you watch Roman wearing makeup and dresses every other day and we don’t treat Roman any different.
The study was lit with flickering candlelight; not nearly enough to chase every shadow from the corners, but plenty enough to see his paperwork. It was early enough in the fall that the tapestries lining the stone walls were enough to keep the chill of the evening out, and so the fireplace remained unlit. The air was, as usual, filled with the musty scents of parchment and candle wax, and the only sound was the scratch of Logan’s quill on the parchment. He knew that there were guards outside the door, and his valets and Janus’s maidservants were within calling distance, but no one was close enough to hear anything the two of them said.
Not that either of them were saying much at the moment. Logan, in between his writing, occasionally glanced up at his husband. Janus was sitting across from him, at his own desk. He was wearing the loose robes done in a mens’ style that he preferred to wear when he was alone, and had a stack of his own paperwork in front of him, but the sound of his quill was not joining that of Logan’s. Instead, he was staring off into the distance (presumably, Logan doubted that the side table was interesting enough on its own to warrant such scrutiny), eyes vacant and brow slightly troubled.
“It seemed like the crops are doing poorly this year,” Logan said, quietly breaking the silence, studying his husband intently over his glasses.
“Mm, really?” Janus said vaguely, not looking over.
“Yes, and it seems that the rains aren’t helping; it looks like there will be a drought this year.”
“That’s good then.”
Logan raised his brow. “I think that we shall have to call up some great wizard to fix this, my queen.”
“Yes, excellent.”
Both of his brows raised, then furrowed. Really? “Janus? Janus.”
At the urgency in his voice, Janus’s head snapped over to Logan. “Hm? What was that?”
“You haven’t been hearing a word I’m saying. What’s the matter? It isn’t like you to be distracted like this.”
Janus blinked, then shook his head slowly. “I’m fine Logan, no need to fret.” He stood up abruptly. “Are you cold? I’ll get a fire started.”
“Janus.” Logan caught his husband’s hand in his as Janus made to pass between their desks to the hearth. “We’ve been married nearly two decades now, I know you better than that.”
“Oh don’t say it like that, you make us sound old.”
“Janus,” Logan admonished, entirely too fondly. “Come now, what’s wrong?”
Janus looked away.
“Is it something I should worry about?” Logan trusted Janus implicitly in making sure that the goings on in the castle ran smoothly, that the servants were cared for, that the nobles became neither complacent nor unruly, and to keep tabs on any sort of dangerous goings-on in the palace. Logan hoped that there wasn’t another assassination attempt in the works, those were entirely too troublesome.
“No, not at all,” Janus said immediately, soothing Logan’s concerns.
“Then what is it?”
Janus took a slow breath. “It’s just...I had an argument with Roman, earlier today. Same subject as usual.”
Logan’s lips thinned. The twins had let all of the ballads and stories they’d grown up with go to their heads, and were refusing any attempts at a marriage arrangement. They wanted to be in love before they agreed to their marriage.
As if they were not princes, as if they had that option.
“I see. Did something he said upset you?”
“No...no, it just...made me think I suppose.”
“You are rather good at that.” Logan began to rub his thumb over Janus’s knuckles in a comforting gesture.
“Flatterer,” Janus said with no heat.
“So what is it that he said that has you this out of sorts?”
Janus hesitated. “He...well, before storming off dramatically, he said…‘just because you were fine with marrying someone that you don’t love, doesn’t mean that the rest of us are.’”
Logan very carefully did not flinch, or tighten his grip on Janus’s hand, although his thumb froze for a moment in its tracks. It kept moving nearly instantly, but Logan didn’t bother to hope that Janus had missed the action. “Did he now?”
“Yes.” Janus’s free hand fidgeted with its ring. “And I was...thinking.”
“About what?”
Another pause. “I met you a week before our wedding day, and we didn’t have a moment alone until that night. I didn’t know you. I was nervous, worried, scared…”
“I was too.”
“And it’s been seventeen years since then.” Janus was staring at the hearth, but Logan didn’t think that he was seeing it. “We’ve done well for the kingdom, haven’t we?”
“I’d like to hope so.”
“We’ve made a good team.”
“Janus, what is it you want to say?”
Janus let out a breath. “I simply came to the realization that I, perhaps, do in fact...love you.”
The last two words were said far more quietly than the rest, but Logan heard them clear as day.
Logan brought Janus’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. “Good to know.”
Janus pulled his hand back sharply. “Oh don’t tease me, you -”
“Janus,” Logan said fondly. “You do know that I’ve also loved you for years, yes?”
Janus was very still, then whirled around, actually looking Logan in the eyes. “I most certainly have not!”
“Ah. Well. I have.”
Janus spluttered. “Wh - we agreed when we wed that there didn’t need to be anything between us! That a successful partnership was more important than affection!”
“Yes, well, as it turns out, spending most of one’s time with someone that one can respect and also enjoy the company of tends to lead to certain feelings forming.”
Janus leaned rather heavily against Logan’s desk, Logan put a hand on the small of his back to support him. “I can’t believe this.”
“In my defense, I did think that you knew,” Logan said, with a small amount of apology in his voice that was unfortunately overshadowed somewhat by the mirth he was attempting to suppress. “Sit down, you look as though you might fall.”
“I most certainly did not know,” Janus said, ignoring the second part entirely. “I always thought that our partnership was just that.”
“Are you saying,” Logan said, his mirth even more poorly suppressed than before, “that I figured out something to do with an emotional connection before you did?”
Janus wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, you did. Can we forget that you did that?”
Logan chuckled. “I’m afraid that that’s going to be impossible, darling.”
Janus paused. “You’ve never called me darling before.”
“Well, now that I know your seeming indifference was actually genuine ignorance, I thought I might try it.” Logan hesitated. “Is it alright?”
Janus hesitated. “It is...my love.”
Logan could not help the smile that broke out across his face at that, and took Janus’s hand in his again to press another kiss to it.
“It’s odd,” Janus said. “This doesn’t change anything. We’re still married, we still have a kingdom and a castle to run, and two hellions to raise. But...it feels different.”
“To you at least, you did just realize something rather dramatic,” Logan said with a grin, bearing the half-hearted swat that Janus aimed at his shoulder. “But yes, it does, a little. It’s nice to know, at least.”
Notes: I was vibing to Kiss The Boy by Keiynan Lonsdale and got motivation to write.
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There wasn’t anything significant about when Virgil met Logan. It was just school and they had a lot of the same classes together. That and the Grimm twins just deciding they were a friend group one day it just… happened. Nothing really significant beyond that.
And yet Virgil found himself over analyzing every single interaction between them. Logan had wiped rogue chocolate from the muffin he’d been eating last week and that alone made Virgil lose sleep trying to figure out if it meant he was gay and interested or if he was just being his typical hidden dad friend self (as much as Patton claimed to be the dad friend, he was honestly more like… the reckless uncle than anything else).
Fucking… then there was literally right now while Logan and Janus were staying the night to help him stop panicking over the debate happening Monday (he didn’t even want to be in Debate, but his dad insisted because he “loved arguing so much anyway”) and Logan was laughing, actually laughing, at something dumb Virgil had said.
His smile sent Virgil’s heart racing, and he found himself unable to help the wide grin currently hurting his cheeks because he couldn’t get it to go any bigger than it was.
“You two are insufferable,” Janus grumbled, making Virgil snort because even with the temporary memory loss seeing Logan so carefree gave him, he could remember they were teasing Janus for his obvious crush on Roman.
“You’re the one friends with us,” Logan pointed out once he’d managed to calm his laughter to mild giggles (damn it, if Virgil’s heart could calm down--)
“Not by choice. The twins are the ones who dragged us all together because we gave them ‘gay vibes,’” Janus shot back.
Normally, Virgil would’ve been sent into a giggle fit at that. But this was the first he’d heard of Logan giving anyone gay vibes that wasn’t himself and now his mind was sent racing again.
While the jovial mood quieted, Janus started standing up.
“I’m going to the bathroom to take off my binder, Virg--”
“I took it off when I got home, Jay. Shoo,” he interrupted before Janus could continue, shooing his best friend (his actual best friend since diapers, no matter what Janus said) out of his room to go take care of himself.
Janus rolled his eyes and then left Logan and Virgil alone.
Logan smiled at him softly, and Virgil had to pretend his heart wasn’t racing and he didn’t just get an intense urge to pull him in for a kiss.
He knew Logan was at least accepting of the queer community, but he had no idea of anything beyond that and when Virgil had a crush on him bigger than the size of Texas, that was honestly enough to drive him insane.
“You have something on your mind,” Logan pointed out, resting his elbow on top of Virgil’s bed and his cheek in his hand while he watched him.
“I have anxiety, of course I have something on my mind,” he joked, throwing a piece of the paper he’d been ripping up at Logan and snickering when he instinctively dodged it.
“You know what I meant, Virgil,” he said, giving him a no nonsense look that had Virgil going quiet.
Focusing his attention on ripping the pieces of paper he’d already ripped into confetti sized pieces while he thought.
How do you tell someone you’ve only been friends with for like… a year that you have a massive crush on them? Wasn’t there some fact about only really knowing someone after three years? What if Logan rejected him because he thought Virgil was just infatuated or something? What if he was just infatuated? He really shouldn’t—
Virgil’s thoughts were cut off by a crumpled ball of at least two pieces of paper thwapping him in the nose and making him yelp and jerk back.
“The hell?” he mumbled, glaring at the ball in confusion before looking up Logan again, trying not to flush at the knowing look he was giving him.
“You’re over thinking again. Is this about the ‘gay vibes’ thing Janus mentioned?” he asked, raising an eyebrow when Virgil’s face flushed hot enough he just knew the color was obvious.
“I… kinda? I guess? I dunno just… are you gay? Or like. Somewhere in there?”
And now Logan’s eyebrows were scrunching together in a really cute way that told Virgil he’d confused him but made it really difficult to focus on not kissing him.
“…You’re asking if I’m queer in some way?” he clarified, earning a nod from Virgil.
Logan went quiet, watching him with so much intensity Virgil uncrumpled the paper ball to start ripping up the paper that made it in order to ease his anxiety.
“Forgive me if I’m going too far,” he said suddenly, but as far as Virgil got in asking for clarification was parting his lips before they were covered with Logan’s.
His heart soared but he was so shocked he wasn’t really sure how to react so Logan drew back quicker than he wanted with a worried expression.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“You—”
“Virgil please tell me you got some progress done on your arguments and citations and didn’t just make a confetti mess on the floor while I was in the bathroom,” Janus interrupted, huffing as he threw the fabric of his binder at Virgil’s face.
Catching the binder and pulling it away from his eyes, Virgil gave Logan a questioning look for a minute, noting that he wouldn’t meet his eyes, before sighing and throwing Janus’ binder back at him.
“Fuck you, the debate is in two days you think I didn’t get this done two weeks ago? I don’t need to double check it.”
Janus gave him a look, and then Virgil was pulling his debate binder out of his backpack and standing so he could threaten his best friend.
“Is physical violence really necessary?” Logan asked, though he was smiling and making no move to stop Virgil from whacking Janus’ head with the flexible plastic.
Virgil would talk to Logan about the kiss later, the next time they’d be alone for an extended amount of time so they weren’t interrupted again.
…But for now, he’d let himself enjoy the sleep over and panic over the debate and let two of his closest friends help him be ready for the debate.
