Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If you were to ask Thomas what his religion was, you'd get a very nonchalant answer and probably some mumble of spiritualism and avoidant eyes. Not because he didn't want to talk to you, he loved a good ramble, but because the real answer was much more complicated. At least most people had heard of denominations of Christianity or Judaism or Islam or any other common religion; how do you explain that your religion is mostly forgotten? That it only exists in a few nonfiction research papers and some internet lore?

It was on the way home from work that Thomas had wandered into the bookshop. Truthfully, he didn’t know why he did. He was tired and he wanted to go home but something about the quiet bookstore, a little nook in the block he was walking by, invited him in.

The smell of old books and cinnamon invited Thomas in when he stepped inside, and he shuddered a bit from the rain. It was warmer inside than it was outside, and he appreciated that. His hoodie did very little for him.

“Hey, honey, welcome in!”

He looked up at the voice, and was greeted by an older woman sitting behind the counter, a crossword sitting in front of her on the counter. She seemed kind, though that might be from Thomas’s long shift. He wasn’t sure.

“Hi,” he said, voice crackling a bit. He cleared his throat a bit and nodded, shoving that embarassing memory deep down. No need to be embarrassed, that happened. “Hi, good evening.”

She didn’t seem to notice, because she beamed anyway.

“Pick anything you’d like, my dear. I’ll be up front if you need anything,” she said, and Thomas nodded again, venturing further into the bookstore. He didn’t know what he was here for. What was he here for? He never went to bookstores. He didn’t read proper books, barely read them online, and limited his reading experience to whatever caught his interest online or whatever he needed to read for a chemical engineering degree.

His beeline was for the fantasy section. He had a nice little collection of fantasy books his family had gotten him, and he figured that’s where he fit the best. He might as well go there.

The bookstore was small, but not cramped. It didn’t make him feel claustrophobic as he dipped into the aisle labelled Fantasy in genre-appropriate calligraphy. No, rather than claustrophobia, he felt weirdly comfortable. A sense of warmth was set in his bones that he hadn’t felt since he left his apartment that morning and while that was an odd thought, it didn’t make him uncomfortable.

Nothing in the horror section was piquing his fancy, though. He recognized the names of the books, knowing a few of them from his own collection, but he didn’t feel a pull towards any of them. He didn’t want any of them.

Instead of turning and leaving, however, he found himself venturing even further into the bookstore. He wandered between random aisles, finding himself in front of a cart in a back corner with books half unloaded onto it. Without really thinking about it, he reached down and he picked up the book on the end.

It was an odd looking book for a bookstore — it looked more like a journal if anything. The front had some engravings that looked a little like letters, but they weren’t letters that Thomas recognized. They weren’t an alphabet that Thomas recognized. He flipped it open, figuring he’d just take a peek and figure out what kind of book it was.

“Many practices are now lost to time, but one remains clear: use Friday as a day of rest. If one is not able to worship, one should at least use that day as rest and self care. Whether one may consider that a full home cleaning, a full self cleaning, buying an extra treat for oneself, or partying. It is dependent on the person.”

Thomas hummed a little. Okay, so it was a religion? This was a religious book? Having a designated self care day didn’t sound too bad. Lord only knows that he needed one of those every once in a while since he forgot to most of the time.

He flipped a little further in the book to read.

“There are many tales for how Rarrom and Reman ascended to godhood, though many involve similar themes of the twins trying to sacrifice themselves for each other. The most common story says that one time, when the twins were teenagers, Reman tried to steal a horse to travel to a nearby village. The horsemaster, being sick of Reman’s actions, finally reported the boy for the theft. This led to the townspeople inevitably calling for Reman’s death. In an event to keep his brother alive, Rarrom offered to sacrifice himself in exchange for his brother’s life. The fed up townspeople took both men instead.

However, Pathadir saw this from the sky above, and his empathy extended so deeply that he saved them from their fate and allowed them to rise to godhood to escape it.”

The other side of the book, the page to the left, held the art of the supposed twins. Rarrom was depicted on the left, reaching up towards the top of the page in a graceful grasp. Reman was depicted on the right, reaching down towards the bottom of the page with his hand extended in a grasp similar to how Thomas would expect someone crawling through sand to use. It was difficult to describe them — they were beautiful. The thing that Thomas noticed, however, were their eyes.

Reman was depicted in green clothes, but Rarrom’s eyes were a vibrant green. In an almost symbolic depiction, Rarrom’s clothing was a bright red and Reman’s eyes matched the same tone.

Thomas hummed. Was it supposed to be some sort of yin and yang? His eyes searched the information page, skimming the words in front of him, but nothing like that was said.

“Rarrom has, due to his loves in life, become the patron deity of the creative arts and bravery. Reman, for his loves, became the patron deity of unbridaled honesty and criminal activity. They’re together the gods of what would equate to being yourself, in your truest and most honest way.”

Thomas could get behind that. He liked that message.

Thomas closed the book and looked around the cover and back for a price tag. When he found nothing, he opened to the inside covers and searched there. Again, nothing.

The man closed it up again and considered for a moment, staring down at it.

When he set it on the front counter of the bookshop a few minutes later, being mindful of the old woman’s crossword as she set it to the side, he pretended not to notice the look in her eye. He didn’t recognize it, regardless, but he knew it was there.

“Oh, that’s a good one. I won’t lie to you, though, sweetheart,” the older woman said as she picked it up and looked it over. “I have no idea how much this baby is worth. It’s full of many good stories, though.”

Thomas nodded slightly. He had no idea what that meant.

“How much would you want for it?” he found himself asking, and the old woman hummed while skimming through it.

“Most of the books here are between ten and twenty, but I wouldn’t charge so much for a book of fairytales. I’ll charge you ten,” she confirmed.

Thomas handed over a ten from his wallet, thankful for such a flat amount. She took it, dispensed it, and then put the book in a bag for him.

“Here you go, dear, for the rain. You have a good night,” she said, and Thomas nodded, giving her a smile.

“Thank you, ma’am, have a good night,” he said as he took the bag from her and headed towards the door. He tried to pretend there wasn't an odd tone in her voice, that he was just tired and needed to go to bed.

He stepped out into the rain, tucking the bag and book underneath his jacket. It wasn’t pouring rain outside but it was still a light drizzle and he picked up the pace on the way home. He was thankful that his apartment was only a few blocks away and he fished his keys out of his pocket as quickly as he could.

Once he made it to the building and let himself in, and finally made it to slight warmth of the elevator, he let out a sigh. He couldn’t celebrate, however, until he made it to his apartment, and he made a beeline for the familiar door halfway down the hall.

Thomas slipped into his apartment, closing the door behind himself with a small click. He kicked off his shoes and stared down into his empty apartment.

Home, finally.

He ventured in, taking his coat off and setting it on the usual chair that it was placed on. The bag hanging off of his hand was put on the coffee table for future usage, but for now, he had to make dinner and take a shower.

Luckily, he had both of those rather down to a science and already knew what he wanted for dinner. He had some leftover spaghetti sauce and knew there were some noodles to be made in the pantry. Less than two hours later, he was settling down onto his couch, freshly showered, in pajamas depicting Nightmare Before Christmas, his stomach full, and his kitchen with a sink clean of dishes. He didn’t have any work to do tonight and, besides that, he had something else he’d rather look at.

With Steven Universe going in the back for some quiet background noise, he flipped open his newly bought book to the first page.

“The lore of Sansaides has been forgotten over many years. It’s quite a shame, really, as the history of this religion was meticulously kept. As I write this book, there are five research papers, two nonfiction books, and one book of myths that I have been able to locate. I am writing this book with the intention of combining all of the knowledge I can scour for the reader’s informative pleasure.”

Thomas could get behind that message. He liked when information was easily accessible and he didn’t have to scrounge the internet for what he wanted. Those rabbit holes were fun, but also ruined his sleep schedule.

“There are six deities known in the Sansaides lore. Logona, Pathadr, Rarrom, Reman, Jansiir, and Virparil. The origins of each deity’s ascend to godlihood are different from one another, and are covered in each deity’s own chapter. They range from being saved after death threats — such as Rarrom and Reman — to ascending to godhood due to having good character — like Pathadr.”

Thomas reread that paragaph aloud to himself, making sure he could find a way to pronounce each name. Then he processed the latter half and had to hold back a concerned laugh. What did Rarrom and Reman do? And how does that qualify someone for godlihood?

Thomas wanted to flip back in the book and find the pages dedicated to Rarrom and Reman, but he resisted the urge to. He had to read in order or else things wouldn’t make sense — as much as Thomas wanted to skip around, he knew he’d get lost sooner rather than later.

Thomas let out a sigh. It didn’t seem like a hard read, from what he could tell. It would just be figuring out names and learning about the lore. Honestly, it didn’t seem too bad. He glanced up at the TV to check where he was in the episode, and then looked back down to the book.

Yeah, he could knock it all out tonight. This was interesting.

Chapter Text

Thomas sighed a little as he opened the coffee shop doors. He had a lot of homework to do for a class but he had to make rent as well. It was a tough decision as he knew his manager was understanding but ultimately, the choice to go to work won. 

He didn’t hate his job, don’t get him wrong. Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death was a fine coffee shop and his boss was pretty cool as well. As long as someone was covering the hours, Remington— sorry, Remy really didn’t care who was working it. That gave Thomas some leeway on the hours and when he was able to work around college, thank god. 

Well— thank the gods.

Thomas couldn’t really get that book out of his head. He’d been up practically all night reading it, figuring that it wouldn’t hurt to read just a bit longer. It wasn’t a hard read either, so maybe that contributed to it. He got to learn everyone’s name and what they were the god of and now things were sticking with him. Things were popping up in his brain from the book even as he tried to go about working.

Fridays are for rest and caring for oneself.

Going to work certainly wasn’t self care but it was providing for himself. Did that count?

Probably not but he couldn't do anything about that, he had responsibilities!

Thomas stopped at the calendar to see who was working with him today. Allie was in earlier; Chris was going to close tonight; Thomas got the midday rush with Lee, Marry Lee, and.. Patton. Patton who started a shift earlier than him and ended that shift a little earlier than he did.

Who was Patton? Thomas furrowed his eyebrows a little. He didn’t know they were hiring.

Thomas shook off the thoughts from before as he left the back of the shop. He could do this. Just a five and a half hour shift doing the same thing over and over and hoping that nobody was having a worse day and threw their coffee at him. It hadn’t happened yet but he’d heard tales.

“Thomas, thank god someone competent is here,” he heard Mary Lee joke quietly, and he smiled a little. Mary Lee wasn’t one of his close friends, not like Joan or Talyn or Quil, but she was alright. She and Lee had been flirting for quite some time now so Thomas always got the details whenever working together. Getting both sides of the story on the same day was impossible, but he tried.

“Where’s the new guy, Patton? I didn’t even know we were hiring,” he asked, glancing around. Mostly empty shop, thankfully, but also a distinct lack of Lee and Patton.

“Me neither!” Mary Lee whispered back in a hushed tone, a smile on her face. “I thought we had all the people we needed for our hours then all of a sudden Remy texts me that we’ve got a new hire today and that Lee and I have to train him. I mean, I won’t complain if he can pick it up quickly but we can’t have a repeat of the Jay situation.”

Thomas cringed. Jay was really, really bad at his job. Thank god he quit.

“Where is he?” Thomas repeated, and Mary Lee flushed a little.

“Oh, I think they’re sorting stuff in the storage, to sort of get him used to the building,” she said, and Thomas nodded. That was fine. Expected, even. That’s what he did his first day.

“Is he good?” He asked, and was thankful to hear Mary Lee confirm for him that Patton had worked in a coffee shop before and, aside from not understanding some things people said, he was actually pretty cool.

Not surprising, so many people came in asking for drinks without explaining them.

Thomas went to say something else, to guess where the random hire came from and ask if anyone quit, but Mary Lee had a customer at the counter and he snapped back into business mode. 

Right, right. Work. Get your rent.

He worked for what felt like an hour before he met Patton. It wasn’t some big thing, it was just in the middle of the shift that he turned and someone new was there, making a mocha as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The first thing that stuck out were the curls, the loopy blonde curls that crowned his head. Thomas had to step around him to grab something — he’d forgotten in his conscious mind and was working off of routine — but suddenly the new guy was handing him the exact lid he was looking for.

Thomas's autopilot recognized the lid, his hand took it, and he went right back to the customer. The most simple of interactions said without a word.

As the rush slowed and the shop came to what felt like a halt, Thomas could finally breathe again.

Well, until the living sunshine started talking again.

“Hi there! I’m Patton, you must be Thomas. I wanted to introduce myself earlier but we were busy and I didn’t want to cause a problem. That would not be cool beans.” It was like his voice bounced the way he talked, but as Thomas laid eyes on him, he was stationary. Stationary and leaning back against the counter ever so slightly, but so perfectly in a way he touched nothing behind him. 

His hair wasn’t just sunshine incarnate, it was like his eye color was plucked out of the sky too. The prettiest sky blue that tied together the sunshine of his hair, the forests of his freckles, and the snowy alps of his bright smile.

It was … almost weird. He was so pretty. And he was just here, in a coffee shop.

“Yeah, hi,” he greeted back, his brain still a little scrambled from the rush. It wasn’t a rude tone in the slightest. How could he be rude? “I didn’t know we were hiring, to be honest. I’m not against the help, just got a little confused in all the rush.”

Patton shook his head and waved it off with his hand. 

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo! I’ve been around and done this before, don’t worry! Sometimes rushes’ll do that to you!” He said, and Thomas suddenly felt so much more at ease.

Patton didn’t look older than him by much — if he was older than him at all — but the way he said it was said with such a heavy aura of being a dad that Thomas had to glance at him again, just to make sure. Nope, he looked about Thomas’ age. 

Thomas didn’t notice how Patton avoided the question of how he got hired.

“What kind of things are you into?” Thomas found himself asking. Normally, he didn’t ask, finding the idea of social interaction a little anxiety inducing on some days, but it was just something about this guy. It was easy to talk to him. 

Patton hummed and shrugged a little bit. 

“Y’know, video games and music. I like, uh— what’s the word?— retro?” Thomas nodded unconsciously to confirm it, even though he truly had no idea if that’s what Patton meant. “I like retro stuff. Like, I love The Beatles and Fleetwood Mac and— oh! I like Frogger! Frogger is a good game and I stand by that.”

Maybe Thomas was a little bit surprised. The glasses implied nerd, if Thomas was going by stereotypes, but retro music and games was not what Thomas expected. He… He was sure he could see it. 

“I’m not sure I would’ve expected that from you,” Thomas admitted, and Patton laughed a little. Thomas couldn’t help his own awkward laugh, though the idea that maybe he had offended him krept back in.

“No, I understand! I get that look a lot,” he said, and again, that relief was back. “It came from my parents. They raised me with all of that stuff and now I feel a bit left behind sometimes. It’s okay though! I like them!” 

That was… a genuinely nice answer. Thomas didn’t know what he expected, but that was a nice answer.

“But enough about me! What about you? Lee told me you’re in college, right? How’s that going?” Patton asked, and Thomas felt the dread come back.

It wasn’t that he hated his major, but it certainly wasn’t his passion. He wasn’t even terrible at it, going to tutoring for his various classes once or twice a week when his lectures and labs made no sense to him, but so far he was managing.

It didn’t matter to him that he wanted to be in theater regardless and he was a big fan of singing and theater as a whole, that he had been in theater in high school and wanted to in college as well but was told that most roles were sectioned for the theater majors. 

Instead of saying all of that, he shrugged.

“It’s college. I’m getting on, sleeping less,” he said, trying rather hard to not let the dread he felt in his gut seep into his tone. 

Patton… tutted and tsked weren’t the right words but they were the closest ones that Thomas could think of. It was a soft, sympathetic sound, and Patton shook his head.

“You need sleep. Thank goodness that tomorrow is Saturday, huh? T.G.I.F?” Patton asked, a bright smile growing as he said the acronym. It was a little weird to hear it again for the first time in forever but the way Patton looked so excited about saying it, like he was proud of using slang for once. 

It was.. rather endearing. It was hard to see how anyone would hate a literal ray of sunshine.

“I guess,” Thomas said, the corners of his lips perking up in a smile. “I still have class stuff though. Not classes themselves but I have homework to do and I have to get up early to make sure it all gets done so I can relax for the rest of the day. I really shouldn’t but I’m so used to getting up that I’m pretty sure I’ll be waking up without my alarm at this point.”

Maybe that was too much, maybe that was rambling, but Thomas said it anyway. He really only had to get up early every other day; on every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday he woke up at seven in the morning. 

Patton just looked a little sympathetic at the words, but it was very brief. Thomas barely had time to acknowledge it and then Patton was smiling again. 

“Oh well, I’m sure you’ll get some sleep anyway. It’s the weekend, that’s what they’re for!” The tone wasn’t condescending, nor did it scream that Patton knew better. It did.. feel like Patton knew something though. Thomas blinked, pushing that feeling away because it made no sense, and nodded. 

That is what the weekend is for. 

Thomas went to reply, to say something else, but the little bell above the door announcing a customer rang, and his attention was taken again. He turned to do his job, but the thought lingered in his mind.