Winter in the mind palace was weird. By no means was it a tangible place, just an imaginative metaphor for the source of Thomas’ personality traits, and therefore it remained unaffected by anything that was occurring in the real world. And besides that, winter in Florida never got nearly cold enough to qualify as “cold weather”. But no matter how many times Logan insisted these two points, the mind palace felt objectively colder for the sides during the winter months, and everyone had just learned to embrace it the best they could.
Well. Embrace was a strong word. For one side in particular, it was less of an embrace and more of a stubborn refusal to succumb to the evil temperature drop. Virgil really couldn’t help it; he ran cold by nature, and his insistence on keeping his casual hoodie on at all times meant that he was resistant to actually adding layers to his outfit, much to Patton’s chagrin. So instead, he spent most of his time sulking around and pouting about the cold, while resolutely denying that he was either sulking or pouting.
A more patient side would nod sympathetically and continue to try to swaddle the anxious side with mounds of blankets. Roman was no such side.
“You could put on warmer clothes.”
“Shut up.”
“We have hot chocolate in the kitchen.”
“Don’t want it.”
“Maybe do some exercise?”
Virgil looked over the top of his phone scathingly. “You realize who you’re talking to?”
Roman huffed, reaching behind him to grab a pillow and chucking it in Virgil’s general direction. It missed by a wide mile, but Virgil still jumped as far to the other side of the chair as he could. “Hey!”
Roman shrugged. “I’m starting to think you don’t actually want to get warm, Frosty the Low-man. I think you just like to complain.”
“You know I like to complain,” Virgil muttered. “Doesn’t mean I’m not right.”
“Is it possible that you might be acting a tad over dramatic?”
Virgil scoffed. “I am actually going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”
“Hey, game recognize game, man,” Roman defended. “Only a top-tier diva can truly appreciate the theatrics you’ve been putting on, Ginger-dead Man.”
“I am not being over dramatic.” Virgil felt another shiver rack his body, causing him to fold his arms against his chest protectively. “Not all of us are so lucky to be a walking space heater.”
Roman had to give him that one. He didn’t know if it was a result of his fiery, passionate personality, or just a trait he had somehow developed otherwise, but Roman never got cold. Although he was currently wearing a bright red Christmas sweater, it was less out of necessity and more out of comfort (and a desire to be festive AF for as long as he could).
“Well, not all of us are so un-lucky to be the real life personification of the Grinch,” Roman replied. “Get in the winter spirit or fe-leave navidad!”
Virgil snorted, turning his attention back to his phone. “You’re so annoying,” he muttered.
Roman made an indignant noise. “I’m just trying to help, Winter No-Fun-derland! If you don’t like any of my suggestions, then please find some other way to get warm and stop complaining!” With that, he turned back to the TV, resolving to ignore the emo side’s complaints from now on.
He really should have suspected something bad was gonna happen when Virgil went quiet. Normally the two sides would continue to bicker back and forth indefinitely, their words lacking any real malice. It had kind of become a friendly ritual between the two, knowing that the affection between them was genuine, even if they expressed it in a roundabout way. So for Virgil to just stop arguing about a silly topic should’ve been a sign. But Roman was comfortable and the movie on the TV was a Christmas classic and he was distracted, okay?
So it’s totally understandable for him to not react with his usual knightly speed and agility as Virgil suddenly appeared next to the couch, swinging himself to straddle Roman’s legs and effectively trapping him.
Roman paused. “Goodness gracious, at least buy me dinner first.”
“I have an idea for how to stay warm,” Virgil said, uncharacteristically earnest.
At this, Roman raised an eyebrow. “Cuddle sesh?”
“What? No-- definitely not,” Virgil stammered, cheeks darkening for just a moment before he managed to control himself. “No, I was thinking something... like this.”
And before Roman could even parse that sentence, Virgil had shoved his hands underneath Roman’s thick sweater, wrapping them around Roman’s sides and squeezing without any other warning.
The noise Roman made was embarrassingly un-princely, especially when Virgil moved one of his hands up to squeeze Roman’s ribs as well.
“Ah-ahahaha! Virgil!”
“What?” Virgil asked innocently, as if he wasn’t straddling the creative side’s lap with his hands around his waist. “You told me to get warm and stop complaining. I’m doing both right now.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, am I... tickling you?” Virgil asked, grinning when it made Roman squirm even more.
“Nohoho!” Roman shook his head petulantly. “Your hands are-- ahaha-- cold!”
Virgil snorted. “Now who’s complaining about being cold?” He waited until Roman took a breath to respond before squeezing his hands in short, rapid bursts.
Roman let out a sound that was definitely not a squeal, thank you very much.
“You-- you-- stohohop!” Roman laughed loudly as Virgil continued to tickle his torso with a laser focus, scratching his fingers against the back of his ribs while digging circles into his belly with his thumbs.
For a self-described knight, Roman had bad reflexes when he got flustered by a tickle attack. He weakly batted against Virgil’s chest, trying to push the anxious side off of his lap, but he could barely gather his strength as Virgil grinned as his helplessness.
“Come on, Princey, you can do better than that! Just push me off and I’ll stop!” Virgil teased, taking far too much delight in seeing Roman’s cheeks darken.
“I cahahan’t-- Virge! Virge! Get out of thehehere--” But the rest of Roman’s complaint was lost as Virgil abruptly abandoned Roman’s stomach in favor of shoving his hands underneath Roman’s outstretched arms.
“Na-hahahahahahaha! Nohohohoho!” Roman screamed, arms shooting down at lightning speed only to trap Virgil’s fingers directly in the tickle spot.
“You know, you actually are helping me,” Virgil said as Roman tried to buck him off. “I’m definitely not cold anymore-- although maybe it’s because you’re blushing so much I can feel it from all the way over here--”
With one final squeal Roman’s entire body jerked, and Virgil wobbled for just a moment before he came crashing not-so-elegantly to the floor.
“Shit!”
Roman, his arms still locked to his sides, cracked open his eyes to gaze at Virgil sitting in a crumpled heap on the ground.
“All good?” he asked between pants. Virgil nodded, shuffling.
“Thank God Patton insisted on a pillow fort--” he muttered, but that was all he had time to get out before he was suddenly being shoved onto his back.
He gasped out of shock, trying to take in his new position change, when Roman’s face appeared directly over his own.
“You still look a little chilly to me, Virge,” he said, and Virgil’s stomach dropped to his knees as the creative side quickly sat on Virgil’s thighs. “Let me help you out some more.”
