Chapter Text
Virgil was awoken from his nightmare by a sharp rapping on his door.
It wasn't like the nightmare was out of the ordinary for him. It was the same nightmare he had most nights, with its shifting, twisted shadows and distant screams. In the morning, Virgil would wake up drenched in sweat, chest heaving, smear some eyeliner on his bottom lid to cover the eye bags, yank on his favorite hoodie, then go about his day like nothing had happened.
No, it was the knock that was strange. Usually his dreams were interrupted by a soft padding and a "Morning, kiddo!" as Patton made the rounds getting everyone up and ready for the day. So either Patton had morphed into an evil version of himself overnight (not totally impossible, Virgil thought), or this wasn't Patton. And, judging by the sounds Virgil had learned to listen for from the safety of his bedroom, this was probably the knock of his other roommate, Logan.
"Virgil?" It was Logan, then, his voice sharp and direct and way too loud for any reasonable person this early in the morning. At first, Virgil didn't even want to open the door - pretending to be asleep never worked on Patton, but maybe Logan would be fooled.
Three more knocks, even clearer this time.
Virgil groaned into his pillow and rolled over. Please, please go away, he silently begged, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his blanket back over his face.
"Virgil, the walls here are thin. I know you're awake."
With one last groan, Virgil finally flipped the blanket off his body and slinked over to his door, slowly opening it to reveal Logan - disgruntled, his hair messy, and obviously woken up not long before him - with a frown on his face and his brow furrowed.
Virgil squinted up at him. "You're not going to go away if I close this, are you?"
"It's important. Have you seen Patton this morning?"
Well, that solved the mystery of why Logan had replaced his usual wake-up call, at the very least. He yawned. "No, why don't you knock on his door and ask him yourself?"
Logan huffed. "I tried, but there was no answer. Patton being asleep this late isn't typical, so I thought he might have gone out and wondered if he had stopped to wake you." He then stood there as if he expected an answer.
Virgil was currently resisting the urge to slam the door right in the nerd's face. He did not have time for this, especially when it was already- "Wait wait wait, what do you mean, this late?"
Logan shrugged. "It's just past 6:15."
Something began to gnaw at Virgil's stomach. In the eight months he had lived in the apartment, Patton had had near-impeccable timing in getting up in the morning for work, which was impressive considering he was rarely on-time for anything. Why would he suddenly break that habit out of the blue? Had something happened? Did he need help?
"I'm going to go check on him."
"I already tried knocking, and you can't just barge i- Virgil? Virgil!" Logan called out, but Virgil was already on the way to Patton's room, only a few doors down from his own. He sped down the hall and practically threw open the door. Patton was sitting facing the door, partially dressed, his sleep shirt and work pants on and his glasses on the bedside table.
Beyond that, he looked absolutely terrible.
With a sniffle, Patton croaked out a, "Heya, Virgil! Is something wrong?"
Logan popped in over Virgil's shoulder. "Honestly, Virgil, I-oh. I see."
"Hi, Logan! What's got you two all worried?"
"Patton," Logan began, cautiously, "are you feeling alright?"
Patton's face stretched into a smile that didn't reach his red-rimmed eyes. "Sure I am! Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, first of all, your shirt is on backwards. You're also shaking, and your nose is running. You're very clearly ill." Leave it to Logan to be blunt. Virgil hadn't even noticed the shaking.
Patton's brow creased, but he kept the smile on his face. "I promise you, Lo, I'm fine!" He wobbled to his feet, and Virgil and Logan bolted across the room just in time to catch him as his knees buckled, each throwing one of Patton's arms over their shoulders. The heat from Patton's bare arms seeped through Virgil's shirt. Guess Logan was right.
"Go back to bed, Pat," Virgil said as they lowered him back onto his powdery blue comforter. Patton vehemently shook his head. "I promise you I'm alright! Just let me get up and take care of breakfast and-"
"-and spread your germs all over the food?" Virgil sharply interrupted. "There's already one person sick in this apartment, Patton, I can't imagine having to deal with two-"
A loud, drawn-out groan sounded from down the hall.
Sometimes Virgil genuinely believed his words held some kind of curse.
The awkward silence following the noise was finally interrupted when Logan remarked, "That must be Roman". Glancing back at Patton, Logan cleared his throat. "Virgil, would you check on him while I make sure Patton stays in bed?"
Virgil considered Roman as less of a third roommate and more of an unfortunate pest infestation. His frown deepened, but he saluted to Logan with two fingers and strode down the hall, away from the bickering duo behind him.
"I'm fine, Lo!"
"You most certainly are not."
The rest of their argument faded into background noise as Virgil arrived at the last door in the hallway, decorated with a, frankly, garish sign spelling out Roman's name in shining font.
It wasn't that Virgil hated Roman, and he certainly didn't want him to get sick - he just found him so gratingly annoying that he couldn't stand to be in the same room as him without Logan or Patton there to tone down the other man's antics.
The first time Virgil had met him, it had been at the bakery he and Patton worked night shifts at - which is to say, much too late to be dealing with someone like Roman Prince. The bell rang, and a familiar man - Logan - had stepped into the shop, obviously exhausted, a chattering, boisterous companion in tow. It was a rare night where Patton wasn't working but Virgil was, which was a small mercy - if he had had to deal with new, loud customers and his coworker mooning over one of their regulars, he didn't think he could've survived the night.
Needless to say, he later wished that anyone had been working the late shift with him instead of prepping in the back. Their immediate bickering was childish at best (Virgil had greatly resisted the urge to spit in his over-elaborate coffee order and had received at least three new derogatory nicknames in the ten minutes he took to prepare it), and though it would be a good three years before he would meet Roman again - this time as a roommate - that animosity had stayed rooted into the basis of their relationship.
Another groan sounded from Roman's room, dramatic and longer than the first one. God, I swear he does these things just to annoy me. Virgil rolled his eyes and stepped through the door.
Roman's bedroom was dim, the lush crimson curtains drawn over the window. The room felt still that way, a rare diluted sunbeam catching the vanity in the corner, dust particles visible at the crossroads. The only sign of life came from the mass of pillows and blankets sprawled across the bed, which were slowly moving up and down, and the tuft of deep brown hair poking out of one end.
"Oh, absolutely not," Virgil muttered. It would be just like Roman to make him visit an emergency room this early in the morning because he had overheated himself to the brink of death. He shuddered at the thought of the noise from the machines, the stench of blood and sick, the crowds, stalked over to the bedspread, and ripped the entire shelter off, tossing it to the floor.
Roman screeched, but managed to - very sluggishly - regain his balance. He squinted up at Virgil, his cheeks pink and his forehead slick with sweat, and let out a sharp, "What is your problem? Can you not see that I've fallen ill!?"
Oh, it was definitely not the day to deal with Roman. "Yes, and I can also clearly see that you've got a fever, and neither of us can afford hospital bills right now."
Roman whined, flopping back down onto his now-bare sheets, facing the wall, but he didn't try to reclaim his blanket nest. "Can you just…get Patton?" His voice was raspy, and he pulled himself closer in as he said it.
Virgil blinked, the various rebuttals he had been thinking up forgotten at his deflated tone. "Lucky for you, Princey, Pat's got whatever you have too."
Roman was still for a second. "And Logan?"
"In Patton's room, keeping him from infecting the entire household."
Another pause, then Roman let out a long, laborious sigh. "So I get the Witch Doctor for the day?"
That was a new one. "I like it just about as much as you do."
Roman sat up and didn't respond, just squinting at Virgil again through a clouded gaze. Virgil thought he was prepping to say something else, but he just retched and covered a hand with his mouth.
"Bucket," Virgil said, then raced from the room and over to the kitchen. He threw open a few cabinets before grabbing an old plastic bowl none of them really used any more, then, after a moment, grabbing a second one, and sprinted back to Roman's room.
He got back just in time to throw the bowl into Roman's other arm, turning to allow him as much privacy as he could. When the room finally went quiet, Virgil turned and offered a weak, "I'm gonna go…get this one to Patton."
By the time he got to Patton's room - again running, he wasn't taking any chances - Logan threw open the door and almost slammed straight into Virgil, instead taking the bucket in his outstretched hands with a nod and practically throwing it to Patton, hands previously both slapped over his mouth, who immediately put it to use. Virgil frowned and turned to Logan, who looked surprisingly unaffected. "I'm assuming Roman is just as bad?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.
"If not worse," Virgil confirmed. "He's not too thrilled by his company, that's for sure."
Logan let out a small sigh, but didn't probe - he knew his cousin well enough by now to know already. "I've already called out of work myself. I can also take care of calling out the others. Do you have a shift tonight?" When Virgil said he didn't, he simply nodded. "Alright. I can stay here and take care of Patton if you can stay with Roman."
God no. Any solution but that. "Are you sure that's a good idea? He's your cousin, I can take Patton, I've known him longer than you any-"
"The average person," Logan interrupted, voice a few degrees colder, "with a strong will can handle my cousin. You may have known Patton longer, but it's been a while. I've stayed with him when he's been sick before. It takes a figurative will of steel not to give into him when he's out of commission."
Before Virgil could snap back that maybe it would be easier for people who aren't not-so-secretly in love with their roommates to say no to them, Patton seemed to finally find the strength to chime in with, "I'll be okay, kiddo. You take care of Roman. And if it gets to be too much, you guys can swap, right, Logan?" He shone big, wet eyes - though crusty and red-rimmed - and a sickly sweet smile up at the other man, who softened before looking back at Virgil. "That seems like a good plan to me…that is, if you're alright with it, Virgil."
Okay, so maybe Logan was right about that will of steel thing. Patton turned his shining eyes over to Virgil and, after it became clear that neither of the other parties were going to magically decide that Virgil couldn't possibly be tasked with something like this, he just groaned.
This was going to be a very long day.