Chapter Text
Logan sighed as a stapler whizzed by his nose and landed on the far wall, narrowly missing a certain prince’s head. Roman dodged and the stapler dug itself into the dry wall. He plucked it out and waved it around.
“Stop throwing office supplies!” he yelled and Virgil held up a sharpie as if it were a mace.
“Stopping making those stupid sounds with your mouth!”
“I’m not! I’m just talking!”
“Same thing!”
The marker flew through the air, this time hitting Roman in the shoulder and leaving a dark blue dot. Roman spluttered, rubbed at the stain, made it worse, and then glared at Virgil.
“How dare you!”
Virgil rolled his eyes, “It’s just a stain.”
“These clothes are made by Fairy Godmother. THE Fairy Godmother! Nothing on her masterpieces are just a stain! How do you think she’s going to react when-”
Another sharpie through the air. Another blot on Roman’s clothes, this time dark green. Logan pinched his nose at the ensuing chaos.
Thomas had summoned them an hour ago to discuss a problem. He had bought a sweater for a friend, one that Roman had given his seal of approval on. Upon giving it to her, though, Thomas remembered that she preferred to wear only oversized tops. Thomas asked them what to do, and Logan believed that it was a simple problem with a simple solution. Simply ask for the top back and tell her that he was going to buy it in a bigger size.
Thomas agreed, but the Virgil began asking questions. What if she gets offended about him buying it in a bigger size? Who asks for a present back? What if she returns it and finds out that Thomas didn’t spend enough money on her? None of this would have happened in the first place had someone not given an early stamp of approval.
And that had been the proverbial match that ignited the firestorm of arguing that was happening in front of him. Logan had convinced Thomas to just get her a gift receipt, but when they sunk back into the mind palace…
“It was a cute sweater!” Roman roared and chucked the stapler back at Virgil, it missed and banged against the stair-rail, hitting Logan in the head. Virgil picked it up and threw it again.
Logan rubbed his head and Patton frowned.
“Now, kiddos I’m sure we can-”
“How does someone even forget about clothe preferences when SHOPPING FOR CLOTHES?!” Virgil yelled back, armed with another sharpie (where did he keep getting those?).
“Thomas asked if it was cute, I said yes! It’s not my job to keep track of his friend’s preferences!”
“Then whose job is it?!”
Roman ducked out of the way of a projectile writing utensil. He caught it in his hands and prepared to throw it back, when there was a small noise from the other corner of the room. He and Virgil stopped and turned.
“Mine,” Patton said in a small voice. His shoulders were hunched and his cheeks were burning red. Both Virgil and Roman stared at him for a beat before Virgil let out a loud groan.
“Pat!”
“I know! I’m sorry! Thomas was just so excited to buy the gift that I kind of got swept up in it,” he said with a slight pout. Roman sighed and scrubbed his face.
“You can’t just forget things like that Padre, it’s like, your one job!”
Patton drew back with a slight frown, “I have other jobs,” he mumbled and Virgil readied another pen.
“Yeah, Roman, stop trying to turn the blame on Patton!”
“You’re right! For someone who’s perpetually worrying, I can’t believe you missed that fact!”
Splat. Another stain on the Prince, he was starting to look like an abstract painting.
“How about you offer an actual solution?”
“That’s easy seeing as my job isn’t to just worry all the time! And we got her a gift receipt didn’t we??”
“Yeah! After we gave her the present! That doesn’t seem slightly suspicious to you? She’ll probably think Thomas is,” another marker, “crazy!”
Logan scoffed. The gift receipt was his idea, and he thought it was a perfectly logical one given the circumstances. He told the other two this and Virgil rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, this coming from the one who wanted to return the gift after giving it.”
Roman nodded, the marker war had temporarily ceased. “Honestly,” he turned away and scowled, “Have you no tact?”
Virgil snorted at Roman, “Yeah. And have you no taste?”
Roman scowled harder, “What’s that supposed to mean? I have a fantastic taste in women’s fashion! And I’m still a manly man! A man who is manly! A-ACK!”
A pink sharpie had grazed the side of Roman’s eye.
“Stop quoting yourself from our videos!” yelled Virgil.
“Ohh, looks like you have pink eye, Roman!” Patton giggled.
Virgil snorted again and both Logan and Roman groaned loudly. The markers were being thrown from both sides now, though the stapler had mysteriously disappeared from Virgil’s arsenal. Logan interjected angrily whenever they questioned his decision and Patton piped up to either offer an apology or make a color-based pun (you’re looking pretty black and blue there, Roman!). The bickering didn’t seem to have an end, until-
“ENOUGH!”
They all turned. A certain snake was standing on their coffee table. His hands were crossed and his human eye was twitching angrily.
“DECE-” Logan started, but the snake flipped his hand and Logan’s palm moved to close his own mouth.
“I said enough,” he hopped off the table and started pacing, “enough yelling, enough arguing, enough,” he held up a mangled stapler, “throwing things! Do you all realize how LOUD you are??”
Logan raised an eyebrow. Had their bickering really been that noisy? He tried to pose it as a question, but his hand got in the way.
Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “Let go of Logan and get out of here, snake,” he hissed. He whipped around to face him.
“No.”
“No?” Virgil asked, his voice dangerously bordering dual-toned.
“No. I am tired of hearing you fight and blame each other all. The. Time,” he clapped his hands with each syllable, “At first, it was funny, but now? I’m done! I’m sick of it! You think it’s so easy to do each other’s jobs? Fine!” he uncrossed his hands and waved them in the air, “I am more than happy to oblige.”
The ground beneath them shook and pale yellow tendrils crawled out of the deceitful side's finger tips and latched themselves onto the four of them. Roman drew his sword and hacked at the strings, though it didn’t seem to have any effect.
“Unhand me, villain!” he yelled, and it would have been intimidating had Roman not looked like a fourth grader’s tie-dye project. The snake gave him a wry smile and the tendrils circled the four of them. They glowed and Logan felt his eye sight go bleary. He swayed and put a hand on the stair rail to steady himself.
“Wha-?”
The tendrils grew brighter until the entire room was enveloped in light.
And then, Logan’s world went black.