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Prompt: Could you maybe write a Prinxiety fic where Roman and Virgil are both dealing with persistent nightmares and keep coming to each other for comfort afterwards. And then eventually they start (literally) sleeping together to try to help with the nightmares, which actually ends up working, but also ends up with them falling in love with each other? - anon
“You know what? Forget it.”
“No, Virgil, wait—“
“No, really,” Virgil says again, already turning away, “forget it. I won’t ever mention this again and—“
“Virgil,” Roman interrupts, grabbing his arm, “come—just come back, I didn’t even say anything yet—“
“You didn’t have to, Princey—“
“I was about to ask you—“
“You don’t—“
“Please,” Roman cries out, his voice cracking, “just listen to me?”
Oh, shit. Virgil stops, letting Roman drag him back toward the door but refusing to look at him. He worries his lip between his teeth as Roman takes what is obviously a shaky breath over his shoulder.
“…yes, Virgil, I’ll—I’d be happy to.”
His head jerks up and around. “Wait, what? Really?”
Roman smiles faintly, the hand on his arm softening its grip. “Yeah, Virgil, I’ll sleep with you.”
So as it turns out, having nightmares in the Mindscape? Not fun. Nightmares in general, are not fun, but for metaphysical humanoids whose ties are directly to things like imagination and fear, extra not fun.
Remus probably has a great time with it but different strokes for different folks and all that.
When it comes to regular sleep schedules, Virgil can get close to a ‘schedule’ of sorts, but he sure as hell isn’t getting anywhere near a normal eight hours a night, or whatever Logan said was the healthy amount. No, he’s lucky if he averages around, like, five? Maybe? And when he does manage to sleep, it’s not exactly restful.
He’s had several conversations with Remus about what he can do to make the thought gremlins in his brain shut the fuck up, but unfortunately, he is Anxiety, and there’s only so much he can do.
He took to wandering the halls years ago, determined to wear his brain out by having it jump at every moving shadow or blinking light while his body shambled around, thinking maybe it would help him get to sleep. Did it work? No, not even remotely near half the time, but it was a damn sight near better than trying to get himself to sleep by lying in a bed and doing nothing.
That’s how he first ran into Roman in the middle of the night.
Turns out the Imagination has its own…time zone, so to speak, and Roman’s penchant for taking quests and spending his time working in not-the-Mindscape meant that he wasn’t on the same circadian rhythm as the rest of them. Thomas probably has fun with that. Anyway, he remembers coming downstairs to see Roman in the kitchen, making himself a cup of tea, and squeaking out something about not realizing the time.
Roman had jumped, which Virgil had savored, he won’t lie, and mumbled something about losing track of time in the Imagination and it being the equivalent of about twelve hours worth of jet lag.
Talking with Princey had been an excellent way to ward off the nightmares, even if he had shuffled off with the excuse of needing to sleep and actually managing it a few hours above his record time.
Of course, Roman wasn’t exactly being truthful about the reason why he spent so much time in the Imagination.
Remus’s pull over the rest of them was strong, but he wasn’t their other half. Roman heard a lot of Remus’s activities, especially while they were asleep. And sure, that did mean that the twins knew exactly what was wrong when the other couldn’t get to sleep without their chests heaving like they’d just run a marathon, but oftentimes it was because the thought had flickered across their minds a second or two earlier.
Remus knew, Roman knew, and the two of them did their best.
Virgil’s nightmares were what could be. Roman’s nightmares were the manifestations of what is.
They found a compromise.
“Are you sure,” Virgil mutters for the twelfth time as Roman gets into bed beside him, “I can just sleep on the floor or something.”
“Virgil,” Roman sighs, reaching up to switch off the big lamp and turn on the little one instead, “I said it was fine, didn’t I? This bed is huge, we don’t even have to know the other one’s here if we don’t want to.”
Virgil shifts. Roman’s bed is huge, and ridiculously soft. Plus it’s piled high with all the blankets he could ever ask for. “…y’sure?”
Roman blinks, then shuffles closer and knocks their foreheads together. “I’m sure. Now shh, I wanna try and sleep, okay?”
“You shh,” Virgil mumbles, snuggling one of the blankets up to his chin.
Roman’s chuckle follows him down into the depths of sleep.
They don’t have nightmares that night.
Roman jolts awake in the middle of the night and sits up, feeling something thrashing on the other side of the bed. He quickly reaches out and turns on the lamp, letting the warm light cause away some of the shadows.
“No…no…no…”
He turns over, his chest tightening when he sees Virgil’s white-knuckled grip on the pillow next to him. He takes a deep breath and reaches out, softly stroking his fingers over the bones.
“Virgil,” he murmurs, “Virgil, wake up, it’s just a nightmare.”
Virgil doesn’t acknowledge him. His brow furrows and he lets slip another stream of heartbreaking pleas.
“Leave them alone,” he slurs, “no—no, go away—“
“Virgil,” Roman calls again, more insistently now, “Virgil, wake up.”
When Virgil doesn’t stir, he bites back a curse and reaches out to shake his shoulder.
“Virgil, wa—ah!”
Virgil flails, eyes shooting open as Roman shakes him away, accidentally clipping him on the underside of the jaw. “Oh, shit—“
“Virgil?” Roman recovers quickly and reaches out, carefully cupping his elbow. “Are you alright?”
“Shit, Roman, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you, I’ll go—“
“Shh, shh, shadow-ling,” Roman murmurs instead, taking him slowly and gently into his arms, “none of that now, I’m not hurt, you think I’m brothers with Remus without learning how to take a surprise punch?”
“…no.”
“Then there you go, shadow-ling, it’s alright, you didn’t hurt me.” Roman tucks Virgil’s head under his chin and lets out a soft noise. “I know you can do better than that.”
“Of course I can,” comes the slightly sulky reply as Roman chuckles, “but I didn’t mean to hit you.”
“I know, I know, shadow-ling, I know it was an accident. Waking up from nightmares is hard.”
Virgil is quiet, letting Roman rub up and down his back. Roman reaches out and tucks the blankets a little closer around them.
“Do you want to talk about it, Virgil?”
Virgil shakes his head, instead nuzzling absentmindedly into Roman’s neck. Roman nods and pulls him closer.
“You just need touch right now?”
“Mhm.”
Roman wraps him up in his arms and rolls them, landing so Virgil is half on top of him, his weight pressing them into the mattress. He calls his name gently until he hears a hum in response.
“It doesn’t have to be right now,” he murmurs, “but can you tell me what you like? Or what you need? Just so I know what I can do?”
“Just—“ Virgil tucks his head more insistently under Roman’s chin— “stay?”
“Of course I’ll stay,” Roman says immediately, “but what else?”
When Virgil is still and quiet, Roman feels his chest tighten again.
“Do you know what you like, shadow-ling?”
“…no one’s ever really…”
Oh. Well, that just won’t do. Roman swallows down the rage of no one ever comforted you when you had nightmares? How was that allowed to stand? He starts carding his fingers gently through Virgil’s hair.
“Not ever? Not even when we were younger?”
“Janus would sometimes be there to tell me it wasn’t real,” he mumbles, words beginning to go a little as Roman’s fingers linger in his hair, “or Remus would be there to make me grateful it wasn’t worse, or that I wasn’t alone, but…”
His speech stutters as Roman presses a gentle kiss to his temple.
“…no one ever did this.”
Roman’s chest begins to lighten a little as he savors the feeling of having Virgil here, solid and warm in his arms in the soft light. “Well, then, I’d say it’s about high time someone did.”
Virgil blinks. And blinks. And blinks.
Why is he awake? It’s the middle of the night, at least as close to it as he can tell, and he’s pretty sure it wasn’t when he closed his eyes, so he must’ve slept for some of it.
Does he need to go to the bathroom? No, that’s not it. Is he uncomfortable?
Well, now that he thinks of it, this bed is really warm. Did Roman turn the temperature up or something? He rolls over, about to ask Roman if he’s awake, what he’s done, can he make the room not a sauna, when his words die on his tongue.
Roman is lying completely still.
“…R’man?”
His tongue is still slack from sleep but when Roman doesn’t so much as twitch, his brain starts to come online pretty damn quick.
“Roman?”
He reaches out. Winces. Roman is burning up.
“Roman, wake up!”
Roman won’t move. Virgil takes a deep breath and sits up properly, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder.
“Roman,” he calls again, “Roman, c’mon, buddy, I need you to work with me here.”
Roman still won’t move. Virgil bites back a curse and shakes him as lightly as he can.
“Roman, come on—hey, hey, shh, shh, it’s only me.”
Roman, whose eyes had flown open, stares at Virgil like he’s the devil come back to haunt him. Virgil reaches out and quickly turns on the light, rubbing his shoulders to try and ground him here and now, watching anxiously to see if any of the mania fades from Roman’s gaze.
“It’s Virgil,” he says, voice soft and kind, “it’s just me. We’re in your room, Princey, we’re in bed, you’ve got blankets all around you and a frankly incredible amount of pillows.”
Roman’s gaze stays on his, even as Virgil’s drops to trace the frightened roll of his throat. “Y-you’re still here?”
Virgil frowns, his grip loosening slightly as he lies back down next to him. “Of course I’m still here, what’re you—“
Oh. Oh, shit.
“…is that what it was?”
Roman’s gaze flickers away as shame begins to color his cheeks. “You…all of you, you were…I was…”
Virgil reaches out to wrap his hand through Roman’s when he hesitates. “We were what, Roman, what happened?”
Roman takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, not to try and retreat, Virgil realizes, but to give himself the courage to say the poisoned words leaking through his tongue. “You were ignoring me. It was like I didn’t exist. I called—and call—called and you—you—“
“Shh, shh,” Virgil soothes, stroking the soft skin on the back of Roman’s hand, “I’m right here, Princey, you’re real, I’m real, we’re both here.”
“You were g-gone,” Roman manages through a sob that makes Virgil’s chest throb, “you—y-you were—“
“Oh, shh, Princey,” he says softly, rolling Roman toward him and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, “it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.”
Roman keeps babbling out whatever horrors his mind conjured up to spook him so badly, Virgil murmuring reassurances and sympathetic noises whenever there’s a big enough sob. It’s strange, how much Roman curls into him, tucking himself into the crook of Virgil’s embrace even when Roman dwarfs him on a day-to-day basis.
But maybe that’s it. Roman has to take care of almost everyone when they’re up and around doing the day. He’s the prince, the knight, their protector, and he does his job so fucking well that the rest of them don’t even have to think about the horrors of the Imagination of the terrible reality that they aren’t reality. Roman just…deals with it.
Who helps Roman deal?
“I’m not going anywhere, Princey,” he murmurs again, firmer this time as Roman begins to slow his frantic tirade, “you just hang onto me, okay?”
Shadows. Red eyes. Claws. Sharp teeth. Running. Running. Running. Running.
“Where are you going, little one,” comes the voice that grates against the undersides of your bones, “what is so delicious that it’s luring you away from me? Come, come, little one,” it sings, “come to me.”
Your legs won’t work. They are gelatinous, painfully so, refusing to cooperate as you wade through the murky fog that wants to keep you here.
“Come,” it slurs again, gaining on you leisurely, “let me eat your dreams.”
Your blood knows it is not made to drink it. It rebels, throwing you forward, away, away, away from the creature behind you. You do not know what it truly looks like. Your blood does not want you to know.
“Come closer,” it whispers, breath on the back of your neck, “let me—“
“Virgil, wake up, it’s alright, you’re safe.”
Virgil’s eyes shoot open, panting, his chest on fire. He flails, trying to dislodge the last of the fog from around his limbs but he can’t, it’s too thick, he can’t move—
“Virgil,” the voice calls again, softer now, gentler, “shh, shadow-ling, it’s alright, it’s just me, you’re tangled up in the blankets.”
He blinks, disoriented. Blankets? What blankets? Where is he?
“Virgil.” He blinks. A face. “Virgil, can you look at me?”
Terror still glues his mouth shut.
“Shh,” as a hand comes up to stroke gently at the underside of his chin, “shh, calm down, shadow-ling, you’re alright, shh.”
“R—Roman?”
“Yes, that’s it, shadow-ling, it’s just me.” Roman smiles down at him, arms deftly undoing the tangle of sheets and blankets he’s found himself in. “You’re alright, my darling, you’re alright.”
“Roman—“
“Oh, come here.” And Roman catches him effortlessly as he throws himself up off the bed and into his arms. “Yes, there you go, I’ve got you, good job.”
He can move. He has his limbs, he’s not stuck, no one is trying to steal them, he’s safe, he’s safe, and it’s warm—
“Yes, shadow-ling, I’ll keep you warm, look at you, you’re freezing, even after all of these blankets, come here…”
Roman’s litany of reassurances works its way into the icy knots beneath his skin and soothes them loose, warm hands rubbing up and down his back, warm kisses pressed to his cheeks and his forehead. He turns them, lying down with Virgil atop his chest.
“There,” he rumbles, chest purring next to Virgil’s ear, “you just lie there and breathe for me, okay?”
Virgil squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on the shallow movement of Roman’s stomach against his and the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart. Roman is here. Roman is warm. Roman is safe. Roman will keep him safe. Roman won’t let anything into this room.
“I’ve got you, shadow-ling,” comes the gentle rumble of Roman’s voice, “you’re here with me.”
“How’re you so warm?”
A soft chuckle. “I’m a space heater, I’m afraid.”
Virgil lets out a soft whine he will vehemently deny if it’s ever brought up as he snuggles closer. “I don’t mind.”
“Good,” Roman whispers, another kiss pressed to the top of his head, “that’s good, shadow-ling.”
And as the terror melts away, something else grows to replace it in the pit of Virgil’s chest. The warm light of the lamp closes in around them, holding them here, separate, safe in the pocket of Roman’s room. He shyly nudges Roman’s hand again, hoping that he won’t stop touching him. And just as he’d wished, Roman begins to run his fingers gently up and down Virgil’s spine. The light sensation draws forth the last of the fear and chases it away. Virgil closes his eyes and lets Roman hold him.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, no.
“I…I’ll never be good enough for you,” you mumble, your eyes fixed on their face, “will I?”
They are silent. You swallow.
“No matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, I—I won’t ever be good enough, will I?”
They look at you. They smile. They come forward and cup your face in their hands. It would be tender if it weren’t so detached.
“No,” they whisper tenderly, “you won’t.”
Everybody knows the Sides. There’s Patton, Morality. There’s Logan, Logic. There’s Virgil, Anxiety. There’s Janus, Deceit. And there’s Remus, Creativity.
The five of them help Thomas sort through the problems of his life. The ups and downs, the highs and lows. They all fight, but all families do, and they all love each other at the end of the day. They’re happy.
They’re finally happy.
You watch as the world slowly forgets you.
You watch as the world is finally happy.
Roman wakes up with tears drying on his cheeks and a muffled sob trapped in his throat. For a moment, all he can do is lie still. Don’t move. Don’t move and they won’t notice you. Don’t move and they won’t have to forget you.
“Princey? Hey, Princey, I need you to look at me, buddy.”
A hand? A hand on his cheek. Cupping it gently and turning his face to see another.
“There you are, hey. You wanna stay with me for a little?”
Virgil. It’s Virgil. Virgil’s looking at you. Virgil can see you. Virgil remembers you.
“Yeah, of course I remember you, Princey, you’re one of my favorites.” He makes a face. “Though don’t tell anyone I said that.”
Virgil is here. Virgil remembers you. Virgil won’t leave.
“Of course I won’t leave, Princey, I’m right here. Is that what scared you?” When he nods, Virgil lets out a soft noise and rolls his arms under him, scooping him up off the wet-soaked sheets and into his arms. “Hey, none of that now, I’m right here.”
He tucks his head underneath his chin and an arm behind his knees, lifting him up to sit in his lap. He holds him tightly, rocking him slightly back and forth.
“There,” he murmurs, “you just sit here with me for a sec, yeah?”
“V-Virgil?”
“Yeah, buddy, I’m right here.”
“You—you stayed.”
“Of course I stayed, where would I go? You’re right here and you need to be comforted.”
Roman lets his eyes fall shut as tears roll down his cheeks. Some must splash onto Virgil as he lets out a comforting sound. The hand on his back shifts him closer.
“I’ve got you, Princey, I’ve got you. You’re right here with me, I’m real, you’re real, this is real.”
A hand reaches down, tangling with Roman’s and lifting it up to lay on Virgil’s chest.
“Hang on if you need to,” he murmurs gently, “just hold onto me. I won’t go anywhere.”
Roman blindly scrabbles for a hold, almost scratching Virgil with blunt fingertips as he tries to grab on.
“There you go,” Virgil soothes as Roman finally gets a grip, “you got me, okay? You got me. I got you. We’re not going anywhere.”
“V-Virgil—“
“Yeah, Princey, there you go. I gotcha.”
Virgil’s here. Virgil’s here. Virgil won’t leave. Virgil cares.
As Roman drifts back into a pleasant state of drowsiness, he thinks he might really care too.
+1.
“Uh, hey Roman?”
Roman looks up as he slides into bed beside Virgil. “What’s up, shadow-ling?”
Virgil fiddles with the loose threads on the edge of the pillowcase. “Just, uh, just wanted to say…thanks for doing this.”
“Doing what? Saving you the last good seat for movie night? You just gotta get me next time.”
“No, no—well, wait, yeah, actually, thanks for that too.”
“Come on, I know how much you hate it when Patton and Janus take up the whole couch.”
“…they do take up a lot of space.”
“Right?” Roman chuckles as they nestle under the blankets. “So yeah, no problem. Just do me the same favor if they decide to expand to the other half of the couch.”
“I will, I will, but, uh, that’s not what I asked you for. I—I mean—that’s not what I wanted to thank you for.”
Roman stills, looking at him in the dark. “Oh. Then what is it?”
“I…uh…wanted to thank you for this.”
“‘This?’”
Virgil gestures between them, lightly thumping the bed with his fist. “This.”
Roman’s eyes widen in understanding. “Oh. No problem, Virgil, seriously. I, um, I should thank you too.”
“This was my idea, Roman—“
“Well, alright, you don’t have to take all the credit like that.”
“What? No, no, I just meant—“ Virgil pauses when he catches Roman snickering into his fist. “You bitch, you did that on purpose.”
“Maybe.”
“Stop being a dick while I’m trying to be sincere!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Roman bites off the rest of his giggles and reaches out to nudge him. “Really, you’re welcome, Virgil. I’ve been sleeping better too.”
Virgil nods, eyes darting away to avoid his gaze. Roman frowns, reaching out.
“Hey, you okay?”
“What? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
“Virgil.”
Virgil sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I just—I…I wanted to say that I, um…I mean, it’s…this has been…”
Roman makes an ‘ah’ sound as a part of his chest grows warmer. “I love you too.”
Virgil’s head jerks up. “What? Who said that? I don’t—what are you talking about, I—“
“So you don’t love me?”
“I didn’t say that, I—hey!”
Roman bursts out laughing, head thrown back as Virgil’s ears redden. When he notices the pout and how Virgil starts to shift uncomfortably away from him, he relents, reaching out and gathering the poor shadow-ling into his arms.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “that was really mean, I’ll stop, I’m sorry.”
“Mean,” Virgil repeats, shoving his chest, “mean.”
He kisses his forehead lightly. “I know, I’m sorry. I won’t tease. And I meant it, I love you too.”
Virgil looks up at him warily, softening a bit as Roman smiles gently. “…how did…?”
“Did you forget I’m Romance too?” He pats Virgil’s chest lightly. “I can feel it, shadow-ling.”
“H-how long?”
“…since I woke you up and you called me a space-heater?”
“Y-you knew?”
“Well,” Roman mumbles, his own cheeks reddening, “I might’ve figured it out sooner if I…”
“If you what?”
“If I could tell which one was mine and which one was yours.”
Now it’s Virgil’s turn to smirk and get in Roman’s face. “Aww, how cute.”
“Virgil!”
“What, you can dish it out but you can’t take it?”
“Alright, shaddup,” Roman mumbles, pressing another smacking kiss to his forehead, “let’s try and sleep, shall we?”
“Sure, if you can sleep with all that blush.”
Roman quirks an eyebrow. “That is not a fight you’ll win, shadow-ling. Best to quit while you’re ahead.”
“Okay, okay, you don’t need to threaten me.”
They don’t have nightmares that night either.