Work Text:
Roman sighs loudly as he leans back in his desk chair. He rolls his neck, wincing a bit as it pops a few times. He glances over at the clock to find he’s been sitting here for hours, staring at an empty word document. The princely side lets out a groan and drops his head to rest on the desk.
Virgil glances over from where he’s lounging on Roman’s bed, listening to music and playing on his switch. “What’s going on, Sir Sing-A-Lot?”
Parallel play has become pretty common between the two in the last few months. After realizing that without Virgil, Roman never would have created some of Thomas’s best work, they started meeting up every once in a while so Roman could brainstorm. It quickly became clear to both of them that being with Roman while he created could also really soothe Virgil, which in turn helped Thomas. It was a win for everyone!
Now it's shockingly normal to find Virgil listening to music, playing video games, or just napping in Roman’s room. But even the emo side’s presence couldn’t completely get rid of writer’s block.
“I’m a sham,” Roman declares dramatically. “I’ve never actually created anything worthy, and I never shall again.”
“You’re contradicting yourself,” Virgil points out dryly.
“My purpose is pointless.”
“And that’s the cue for a break,” Virgil says while pausing his game. Putting aside his switch, he gives the prince his full attention. “You know trying to force yourself out of writer’s block has never worked before. You need to think about something else to gain inspiration, or at least clear your mind.”
“You sound like Logan,” Roman gripes, sitting up with another sigh. Of course he knows Virgil is right, but he doesn’t like it.
“Want to watch something? It can even have songs. What about Frozen 2?”
“I won’t be able to focus,” the prince knows he’s sounding a little whiny, but Virgil’s presence is literally the only thing keeping him from lying on the floor to spiral into despair, so he thinks it's warranted.
“You could color.”
“I’m out of my coloring pages.” Roman’s conjuring always took a toll when he had writer’s block. Another way he ended up drawing a blank.
Virgil tilts his head, considering for a moment. He knows he won’t be able to conjure anything Roman wants to color. The things he conjures tend to be a bit grim for the other’s taste. He could run over and ask Patton to conjure a nice coloring book, or…
“I have an idea,” Virgil says sheepishly. “Bring your markers over here.”
Roman’s interest is definitely piqued, so he grabs his big box of felt tipped markers and comes to sit next to Virgil on his bed.
“Okay, this might be really stupid, but…” Virgil sighs, getting more antsy by the second.
“Scaramore, whatever it is, I’m sure it won’t be stupid,” Roman says as sincerely as he can. Learning how to talk to each other in the way the other needed was a two way street, and maybe the biggest benefit of their shared time together. “You can tell me, I promise to consider it seriously.”
Virgil lets out another sigh before taking off his hoodie, revealing a plain black t-shirt underneath and the black line art tattoos covering his left arm. Roman can’t help but stare, the purple side almost never feels comfortable enough to remove his hoodie.
“Why don’t you color in these?” Virgil asks, gesturing to his tattoos. Roman knew he had them, he had even helped Virgil come up with the design (as the anxious side has said before, creativity is not his department). It's a mixture of spiderwebs and flowers, plus a few notable pieces from movies or tv shows Virgil likes. Oogie Boogie’s dice, the sword from Black Cauldron, etc.
“Really?” Roman breathes out the question.
“Yeah, why not… I mean, I can always get rid of the colors when you’re done, and if it will help… I dunno, I already said it was stupid,” Virgil says, his cheeks turning red as he turns his face away from Roman.
“No, Virg, that’s not what I- Thank you,” Roman says simply. “I’m honored-”
Neither of them needs him to finish that sentence. To be this close to you, to touch you, to be trusted by you… It all applies.
Virgil just shrugs and grabs the remote, powering up Roman’s TV to put on Frozen 2.
Roman surveys his tattoos before deciding to start with a rose up near Virgil’s shoulder, picking out a maroon red from his markers.
The two sit in companionable silence as the characters on the screen sing, Roman engrossed in his coloring and Virgil occasionally glancing over at his progress. Secretly he finds it fitting that Roman would start with the flower that Virgil picked out to represent the prince himself. He has one for each of his friends, although not even waterboarding could get that information out of him.
Roman finishes the last tiny spiderweb on Virgil’s wrist right as the credits play. Suddenly, he sits bolt upright, dropping the marker. “That’s it!”
The romantic side hurries back over to the desk and begins frantically typing.
“You didn’t even put the cap back on, you heathen,” Virgil says fondly, putting away the markers for him. He admires his sleeve, now full of color although all of it muted. Roman kept the color palette darker, choosing deep reds, blues, greens, and of course a lot of dark purple. Weirdly enough, he finds it suits his aesthetic pretty well. Sparing one more glance at the prince, he settles back on the bed to take a nap, leaving the other side’s artwork on his arm.
He’s just closed his eyes when he hears a pause in the rhythmic typing coming from the other side of the room.
“Thanks, Virg.”
“Don’t mention it, princey.”