Chapter Text
An indeterminable amount of time later, after they’ve watched multiple episodes, Lemony Snicket’s expository monologue is once more interrupted by the theater door slamming open.
“I come bearing booze and board games!” Remus announces at roughly the volume of an explosion, or perhaps a fire truck’s siren. “Turn off the television and come socialize.”
“C’mon, Remus, we’re at a good part,” Roman complains without looking in his direction.
“It’ll still be there tomorrow,” Remus says, coming into the room. He doesn’t turn the lights up or anything though, just heads toward them. “Your favoritest twinsie, however, might not be, and the alcohol certainly won’t.”
“Mleh,” Roman says, sticking his tongue out at said twin.
“Also, if you aren’t there to stop me, I’m going to eat all of whatever dessert Patton made and not leave you any!” Remus announces cheerfully. He takes Roman’s right armrest and folds it up into the back of the seat so that there’s nothing separating them when Remus plops down beside him and stretches out across Roman’s lap.
“Ruuude,” Roman complains, drawing the word out in a playful manner. “Mean to me, specifically.” He pats Remus on the head, then begins to run his fingers through his hair. Remus goes boneless and gives off the impression that if he could, he’d be purring. Loud, obnoxious, chainsaw purrs.
“You’re a menace,” Roman tells him affectionately. Remus hums and doesn’t move.
He continues to not move for the rest of the episode, other than to become an even more boneless puddle under Roman’s absent scritching. Well. And once to grab Roman’s hand and bring it back to his scalp when Roman makes the mistake of trying to gesture excitedly at the screen with it while commenting on the characters’ antics.
When the episode concludes, Roman gives Remus a couple of pats. “Well, shall we go up and see everyone else, or have you trapped me here forever?” he asks.
Remus answers with an indistinct mumble that doesn’t sound like he wants to get up. Roman chuckles and continues to stroke his hair for a few moments longer, then puts his hand on Remus’s shoulder and rolls him off his lap.
Remus lands on the floor with a thump. “Oww,” he whines, sitting up. He sounds more petulant than injured, though, and considering that Remus is quite capable of being an immovable deadweight when he wants to be, Virgil doesn’t think he’s probably actually very upset about being dumped on the floor, or he wouldn’t have let it happen. Still, he pouts up at Roman. “Rude,” he complains.
Roman appears to be of the same opinion as Virgil, because he just stands up and stretches, popping in multiple places. “Okay, let’s go upstairs then,” he says.
Virgil gets up too, which draws Remus’s gaze. “Oh hey!” he says with a grin. “I didn’t see you there, Tickle-Me-Emo. You been here since the party?”
“No, I went home,” Virgil says, shrugging. He folds himself into his hoodie a bit more. “A couple times, actually.”
Remus’s grin widens. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”
Virgil shrugs again. “What can I say? They keep enticing me back.”
“Patton’s seducing him with food,” Roman jokes to Remus, who nods seriously.
“It’s like a fairy hill in here,” he says. “One bite of Patton’s magically delicious cooking, and you’re stuck forever.”
“That’s how he got me,” Roman agrees, and starts to herd them toward the door.
“You might have warned me,” Virgil says.
“You were already elbow-deep in the buffet when I first saw you,” Roman answers, though Virgil had been speaking to Remus, considering that Remus was the one who had brought him to the party in the first place.
Remus slings his arm around Virgil. “Aw, it’s not so bad, being kidnapped by the fae,” he says. “They’ll keep feeding you, and sure, they throw more parties than you personally enjoy, but at least they won’t make you dance till your feet fall off for their own amusement, so there’s that.”
“Thanks, Remus, that’s very comforting,” Virgil says dryly.
Remus gives him a squeeze. “Anytime!”
Upstairs, they find not only Janus, Logan, and Patton, but also Remy, who brightens when he sees them.
“Hey babes,” he greets enthusiastically. “Here you are, I missed you, it's been ages.”
“You saw me yesterday,” Virgil reminds him.
“That was a whole day ago,” Remy says, “and we barely got to chat, so it hardly counts.”
“I am not responsible for your terrible timing,” Virgil informs him. Remy had shown up during one of their busiest times, of course they hadn't been able to exchange more than a few words.
“You guys didn't peek, did you?” Remus says, brushing past them in the direction of the kitchen.
“No, Remus, your mysterious parcel has remained undisturbed,” Janus responds dryly, with just a bit of sarcasm on the mysterious. Remus is already gone, and doesn't respond.
“Oh,” Logan says abruptly, and gestures between Janus and Virgil. “I almost forgot, are the two of you acquainted?”
Virgil exchanges a glance with his best friend's husband, whose lips twitch minutely. “We've met, yes,” Janus answers coolly. “How are you, Virgil? Staying out of trouble? I don't believe I've seen you since the party.”
“I'm good,” Virgil says with a thumbs-up. “You?”
Janus inclines his head. “I am doing well, thank you.”
Remus returns then, carrying a large unmarked paper bag. He sets it on the table with a heavy glass-sounding thunk, and shimmies his shoulders excitedly. “Show and tell time!”
“Considering that you announced the contents of that bag the moment you walked in the door, I fail to see the purpose of this procedure,” Logan says as Remus reaches into the bag and extracts another, considerably smaller, paper bag, which he puts down with another glassy thunk.
“The purpose is that you don't know the specifics,” Remus says, pulling a second small bag out. He sets it beside the first one. “Also, I enjoy being dramatic as fuck, and this is as good an opportunity as any.”
“Very well,” Logan says, amused. “Proceed.”
“I will ,” Remus says, and continues his self-appointed task. There are five bags in all, of varying sizes, and he lines them up in no particular order. “Okay! Who wants to go first? Logie?”
“Sure,” says Logan. “Why not.” He takes the center bag and opens it, drawing out the square glass bottle it contains. “Vodka,” he announces, setting it back on the table.
“Ooh,” Patton says. “I think we have pineapple juice in the pantry. We should get it and mix them, that's real good.”
“Me next!” Roman says eagerly, and grabs one of the taller bags before anyone can stop him. “Oh, it's a funky shape!” He pulls the bottle out and examines it delightedly. “It's all twisty, I love that.”
“Yeah!” Remus says, wiggling more energetically. “Isn't it just a gorgeous bottle!?”
“Yeah!!”
“What’s in it?” Logan asks.
“Hm?” Roman says, and turns the bottle to find the label. “Oh, it’s whiskey,” he says, and resumes his admiration of the spiral-shaped bottle.
Logan sighs. “I assume that you will be wanting to keep it as decoration.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Roman agrees.
“Only if I don't manage to take it home first,” Remus says. “Remy, you wanna go next?”
Remy considers the remaining bags, then selects the one which is square in shape all the way up, rather than folding in around its contents. This, it turns out, is because its contents are inside a cardboard display box.
“Is that a giant chocolate truffle?” Virgil asks, leaning in. The bottle is round, and wrapped in gold foil.
“Looks like,” Remy says. He tilts the box back to read the label. “Chocolate cream. So, yes.”
“It also comes with its own cup!” Remus adds. “Very fancy!” Indeed, in the top half of the box is a spherical cup nearly the size of the bottle. Remy starts unpackaging it.
“Can I pick next?” Patton asks, and actually waits for their nods before he takes one of the remaining two bags and opens it. This alcohol is much darker than the others, almost black. “Kuh…” Patton reads. “Kahlúa?”
“Coffee liqueur!” Remus says. “It's made of coffee, or maybe meant to go in coffee, I'm not sure. Got it cause we were gonna pick up Remy next, and he likes coffee, so I thought he might like this.”
“Aw, I'm touched,” Remy says. “I do enjoy the occasional spiked coffee.”
“Okay, one bag left!” Remus says. “Who wants to open it?”
“Would you like to?” Janus offers to Virgil. “I’ve already seen it.”
Remus gasps dramatically. “You peeked!? Janus, you promised.”
Janus raises one eyebrow. “I watched you pick it out,” he says, and slides the bag across the table to Virgil. “In fact, I believe you used my card to pay for it.”
The final alcohol is a red wine with a stylized picture of raspberries on the label. Reading the word directly underneath them, Virgil thinks he knows why this bottle in particular caught Remus's eye. “Loganberry wine,” he says.
Logan leans forward. “Color me intrigued,” he says, and extends his hand in a silent request. Virgil passes him the bottle.
Remus bounces, grinning widely. “I’m gonna get the cups,” he announces, spinning on his heel and dashing back into the kitchen. Patton gets up and follows him at a more reasonable pace.
Remus rushes back in with a double handful of glassware, plonks them hastily onto the table, and whirls around again. In the doorway, he nearly collides with Patton, who is returning with the pineapple juice and a jug of milk. “Oops!” Remus says. He grabs Patton by the hips, and spins them both around to trade places. Patton giggles a little, stumbling a bit as he’s spun, but doesn’t fall or drop anything.
“Would you like help,” Janus offers, already getting up to assist.
After multiple trips back and forth, what they have on the table is this: the spherical cup that had come with the chocolate liqueur, five goblets of various shapes and sizes, one of which is made of green glass and decorated with the raised images of curling grape vines, several shot glasses of the larger variety, one of those triangular martini glasses, a large mug that Virgil’s pretty sure is intended for drinking beer from, a plastic cup with a cartoon butterfly on the side and a sillystraw, two short, squat cups, and a tall narrow vessel that Virgil isn’t convinced isn’t actually a vase.
For drinks, they have the alcohol Remus had brought, the pineapple juice, milk, a bottle of sparkling cider, orange juice, and cans of sprite, ginger ale, and dr. pepper. Also, a jar of maraschino cherries. Patton has also located both cocktail swords and tiny umbrella toothpicks, and is busily opening up several of the latter and placing them around the rim of the beer mug. Logan, meanwhile, retrieves a package of crackers and a stack of small plates, and begins to portion them out.
“Ooh, cheese too,” Roman says, and goes to get it. He brings back a whole block, along with a knife and a cutting board, and starts to cut it up. Once he has a decently sized pile of cheese slices, he takes two of the crackers and makes a sandwich, which he devours cheerfully and messily.
Virgil’s not sure how to extricate himself from what is clearly rapidly approaching Getting Drunk Together. It’s one thing to only serve himself from the Non-Spiked punch bowl and avoid the other one, but if they actually pour him a glass, how does he politely turn it down? He does not have a good social script for this. Maybe he should just leave? Leaving before they open the alcohol would probably work. Though of course then he has to find an opening to tell them he's going to go home now, and hope they don't get offended by him spurning the social intoxication.
“Did you clear out the whole cabinet, Remus?” Remy asks, eyeing the eclectic collection of drinkware, which Remus is now shuffling around into a very particular configuration that Virgil doesn't see the underlying logic to.
“No, there’s some left,” Remus says distractedly. “Why, I forget your favorite shape?”
Remy hums thoughtfully. “Weeell,” he drawls, “I might like a coffee cup. Also, coffee.”
Remus squints at him. “Didn’t we get you some on the way over?”
Remy shrugs. “Oh, that’s long gone. I finished it while you were downstairs.”
“I’ll start some brewing,” Patton offers.
Remy smiles at him. “Thanks, babes, I’d appreciate that,” he says, and as Patton circles around him to get to the kitchen, Remy gives him a quick pat on the butt.
“Scamp,” Patton says, and ruffles Remy’s hair.
“In front of my salad?” Roman gasps. Remy sticks his tongue out at him playfully, and Patton giggles, vanishing into the kitchen.
“Before we begin drinking, is anyone intending to drive home tonight, or have any other reason to wish to remain sober?” Logan asks. Oh thank God. Virgil raises his hand. Logan nods seriously at him. “Noted,” he says, and doesn’t even ask for more details. “The cider is non-alcoholic, as of course are the juice and soda.”
“Ooh, we can make you a mocktail!” Remus chimes in. He appears to be satisfied with his arrangement of the glasses, at least for now. “Do you want a Virgin Mary? It’s like a Bloody Mary, but instead of vodka we use ginger ale. I will need tomato juice, worcestershire sauce, olives–”
Virgil cuts him off firmly. “No thank you, Remus.” He does not want to drink the weirdest tomato soup, even if it is a widely recognized beverage.
“Okay,” Remus says with a nonchalant shrug. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
Virgil is not going to change his mind. Even without the alcohol, that sounds gross. Who even likes drinking tomato juice, anyway? And worcestershire sauce!? No. No thank you, no.
“How bout a Shirley Temple?” Roman suggests, reaching across the table to grab the maraschino cherries. He pops the lid off and reaches into the jar with two fingers to fish around for a cherry.
“Hey, no,” scolds Patton, which startles Virgil because he hadn't seen him come back from the kitchen. “Have you washed your hands? No? Then fingers out of the jar.”
Roman pouts, but retracts his fingers. “Well then how else am I supposed to get one out?” he asks.
“You could use a spoon, or perhaps one of the toothpicks.” Patton hands him one of the swords. “Here.”
“If you intend to make a shirley temple, you may wish to use a spoon anyway,” Logan says, as Roman impales a cherry on his tiny plastic sword. “We do not currently have grenadine, so you will need to make the version where you substitute cherry juice.”
“Fair enough,” Roman says, and pops the cherry into his mouth. With the hilt of the sword sticking out from between his lips, he wanders off in the direction of the kitchen, presumably to fetch a spoon.
“What's in a shirley temple?” Virgil asks, because it seems that Roman is pretty intent on making him one, and if he needs to stop him it'd be better to do it before ingredients are actually getting mixed.
“It is mostly soda,” Logan tells him. “Traditionally ginger ale or ginger beer, though you can substitute either sprite or seven-up—or could, except that we do not have the latter. Then grenadine, here substituted with cherry juice, and garnished also with a maraschino cherry.”
That doesn't sound too bad. A little weird, maybe, but he's willing to do the experiment. “Okay,” Virgil says.
Roman returns with a spoon and makes Virgil the sprite-and-cherry-juice variation of a shirley temple in the martini glass. “Here you go!” he says cheerfully, sliding it over to Virgil.
Virgil eyes it suspiciously for a few moments, then takes a cautious sip. Yeah, okay, not bad. “Thanks,” he says, and Roman beams.
“You're welcome!” he says, and pours the rest of the can of sprite into one of the goblets to make himself a matching drink. “So, Remus, you mentioned board games?”
Remus perks up. “Yeah!” he says, and rushes off. He returns with a game box, which he slams down onto the table hard enough to make the glassware rattle. “Look what we found!”
Patton leans in to look. “Parcheesi?”
“Six-player parcheesi!” Remus corrects. “You know, since we can never all fit around a normal ’cheesy board.” He glances over at Virgil, then Remy, and adds, “Unfortunately we still can't all play, since there's seven of us now. So, oops, we're gonna need to find an even bigger game board for next time.”
“I was not aware there existed six-player parcheesi,” Logan says. “How does it differ from the typical four-player setup?”
“It's a hexagon,” Remus says, opening the box. He takes the board out and unfolds it for them to see. “Also, gay.”
By which he clearly means the fact that the six colors the game makers used for the six players are the colors of the rainbow, though they're not in rainbow order.
“Dibs on red,” Roman says quickly.
The pieces are currently separated into little baggies, and Remus digs through the pile for the red ones. “Here you go, little red foxes,” he says, tossing them to Roman.
“Ooh, they're animals?” Patton asks.
“Yep! I bet I know which one you want,” Remus says, and passes him the orange packet. “Oh, or wait, blue is frogs. Do you want orange cats or blue frogs?”
“Oh!” Patton says, brow furrowing. “Oh, that's a hard choice.” Remus passes him blue as well, and Patton takes one of each color out, deliberating between them.
“I'm surprised the frogs aren't green,” Logan says.
“Nope, green is turtles,” Remus says, tossing them over and almost hitting Logan in the face. “And bananacondas for you, dear,” he adds, handing Janus a packet of coiled yellow snakes.
“I think the frogs are cuter,” Patton decides finally.
“Can I have the cats, then?” Remy asks, and Patton passes them to him.
“Then that leaves Virgil with the purple octopussies,” Remus says. He tries to hand them to Virgil, who doesn't take them.
“Wait, what about you, don't you want to play?” Virgil asks.
Remus grins. “Oh, don't you worry, I have an idea,” he says, pressing the octopods into Virgil's hand. “Patton, I am going to raid your craft supplies.”
“Oh! Okay,” Patton says, sounding surprised, and Remus runs off with no further explanation. “Don't make a mess!” Patton calls after him.
“I have never played parcheesi before,” Virgil admits.
“I believe that is your cue for nerdy exposition,” Roman says without looking up from where he is lining his foxes up in front of him, and Logan nods and adjusts his glasses.
“The objective is to move all your pawns from their starting location—” He places one finger on the purple diamond in one corner of the board— “to here.” With his other hand, he points to the purple segment of the hexagon at the center of the board. “To do so, you progress along this outer path based on your dice rolls.”
Logan continues to explain the rules, about movement and blockades and knocking other pawns back and rolling doubles and special cases. It's kind of a lot, but Virgil thinks he can probably manage a game if they're willing to re-explain things as they come up. Especially the special cases. There seem to be a lot of those.
“And of course, whoever gets all six of their pawns to Home first wins,” Logan concludes just as Remus returns.
“Ta-da!” Remus announces, dumping a colorful handful of fancy buttons onto the board.
There's a pause. Then, Logan says, “Explain.”
Remus grins. “I will be playing as the Nest Parasite,” he says, and begins to rearrange his buttons. There are six of them, one in each color of the rainbow, and Remus slides them each over to the corresponding starting diamond. “I'm on a team with everyone, but also no-one.” He shrugs a little. “Basically, it's like I get to control one of each of your pieces. If we're the same color, we can team up for blockades, but I owe no allegiance to anyone, and I'll absolutely take you out with my other pieces if I get a chance.”
“Any chance to sow chaos,” Virgil surmises, and Remus grins and wiggles.
“That sounds like an acceptable adjustment to the rules,” Logan says. “Any objections?”
No-one appears to have any, so Logan says, “Alright. Let's get the board set up and roll to see who goes first.”