Chapter Text
For the next three days, Virgil was a human hot potato. He was relentlessly tossed back and forth between a gaggle of cops, attorneys, and social workers. He wasn’t sure what strings Bluebird and the doctor had tugged on, but they were certainly effective because, not only was he being taken out of that house, but criminal charges were being thrown at Harry like they were eggs and he was the local high school’s principle’s car on Halloween. Like, shit, is this how the system was supposed to work?
He was grateful for everything all these people were doing (even as he chafed under the pointed attention he was receiving), but he was utterly exhausted by this point and sore from the bullet wound none of them knew about, and he really wanted to collapse into a bed, any bed. Instead, he had to settle on leaning his head on the table in front of him and taking long, slow blinks that may or may not have constituted mini power naps.
“Virgil,” a voice said, and he just about jumped out of his chair. He looked up at the social worker, Bev, he was pretty sure. “Logan Sanders is here,” Virgil squinted at her. “Your temporary foster father,” she prompted, inclining her head slightly at the man next to her. Oh right, that had been a conversation they’d had: emergency fostering while the investigation was taking place, two guys, something, something about the university nearby; he’d zoned out pretty hard.
He hopped to his feet in a panic, because no one wanted to deal with a kid who was too lazy to even peal his butt off a chair to greet them even if they only had to deal with him temporarily. “Hello, sir, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he responded, his lips turning up at the corners enough to soften the harshness of his face, “and Logan will suffice.” He offered a hand and Virgil shook it.
After a brief conversation between Logan and the social worker that Virgil mostly tuned out, he was turned over to the man’s custody and led to a parking garage. He was ushered into the front seat of a nice, but not too flashy car.
“I’ll buy us lunch on the way,” he told Virgil once he’d started the car. “Any preferences?”
“No, thank you,” Virgil replied. “You don’t have to.”
“Well, I’m going to,” he said.
“Anything is fine.”
“Alright.” He pulled out from the parking garage and they drove for a bit more than five minutes before they pulled into a small parking lot of some place called ‘The Hideout’. “They have a drive through, but would you mind going inside so you can see the menu?” he asked.
“Sure.”
Despite feeling like he could collapse from exhaustion at any second, when they walked into the café, he was glad he agreed because the place smelt amazing, like roasted coffee and really good bread. Something about the place made him want to relax even though there were people around. Maybe the soft lights or the elevator music in the background. Maybe it was just that none of the people there even glanced at them when they walked in, just kept their heads stuck in laptops, books, or notebooks, like there was an unwritten rule to mind their own business in the building.
The man at the till looked at them when they approached. “Hello Professor,” he greeted. Virgil paused. Oh, that’s why the social worker had been talking about the university. Oh god, if he was a professor, he wasn’t going to be happy with Virgil’s D average, was he? Virgil’s shoulders curled in. He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.
“-and whatever Virgil would like.” Logan had finished ordering while Virgil was lost in thought. He hadn’t even glanced at the menu yet.
“Uh, do you have any suggestions?” he asked Logan.
He hummed, thankfully not seeming angry that Virgil couldn’t perform the basic task of ordering off a menu. “Do you prefer turkey or roast beef?” he asked.
“Turkey,” Virgil replied.
Logan turned back to the cashier. “Then, make that two of the turkey,” he said. The cashier’s eyes were bopping curiously between Logan and Virgil, but he didn’t ask any questions. Virgil shrunk into his hoody anyway. “Would you like some coffee or tea?” Logan asked him.
“I would kill a man for a cup of coffee,” slipped out before Virgil could stop it.
Logan chucked at him. “Alright,” he said. “How do you take it?”
And if he was going to give him positive reinforcement for being a little shit… “as black as my soul.”
“I see,” he said, turning back to the cashier. “You heard him, one glass of milk.”
“Hey!” the cashier bit his lip and Logan flashed a half smile. “I really do drink black coffee,” Virgil mumbled.
“Then two black coffees, cancel the milk.”
The cashier told them the total, and gee that was a lot of money for someone to pay for lunch for him, but Logan didn’t even blink as he handed over a twenty and a five.
“You get chips with the sandwich,” Logan told him and spun a dolly with chips to grab a bag of salt and vinegar ones. Virgil grabbed a bag of plain ones and then followed him to a nice secluded corner. “Patton and I come here often,” Logan explained, setting out the little number so someone could find them with their food. Virgil figured he had probably been told who Patton was one of the times he’d been asleep with his eyes open the past couple of days. His husband? Virgil wondered. He had a ring on, and he knew he was staying with two men, so it was likely. “It’s within walking distance of the hospital and the campus but is far enough away from the university that I don’t get interrupted by students who see me and want to ask me questions that are already answered on the syllabus.”
“Do you enjoy being a professor?” he asked.
“I do. It’s quite a rewarding career path between getting to teach and being able to research.”
“You do research?”
“Yes, mostly I’m working on using stochastic differential equations to model certain physical phenomenon at the moment.”
“That sounds,” he paused, “hard.”
“It can be.”
“I always liked math and science, but I’m not really good at it.”
“Hmm,” he said. “As someone who has taught for many years, I’ve found that an inability to perform to standard in such subjects often has more to do with circumstance: past teachers, higher priority responsibilities, and home life,” his eyes lingered on him for a moment too long and Virgil squirmed. Of course, he had to know something about the situation considering the ongoing investigation thing, but Virgil did wonder how much, “than with innate ability,” he finished.
“Yeah, uh, maybe,” Virgil said even while he didn’t truly agree. Virgil was pretty stupid.
“Perhaps I can help you. What classes are you taking?”
Remedial everything. “For math and science? Pre-algebra and Earth Science. I’m also in Freshman English and Band. That’s it.”
“Ah yes, the high school does the block schedule,” Logan said, then he gave a curious head tilt. “I thought you were a sophomore.”
Virgil looked away. “Uh, yeah.” He could feel his cheeks start to burn.
“I see.” There was a pause as Logan processed just how stupid Virgil was. “And what instrument do you play?”
Virgil breathed a sigh of relief. At least that was something he wasn’t a complete failure at. “Clarinet.”
“Ah, reed instruments. My age-old foe.” He said it so seriously that Virgil couldn’t help but snort.
“Lost a few battles with them?”
“Have you ever attempted to play the oboe?” He spat the name like it was a curse.
“I have in fact,” Virgil laughed, and Logan smiled at him in an oddly warm way. An employee came over with their food then.
They continued talking while they ate, though Logan talked a lot more since Virgil was preoccupied with shoving the sandwich down his throat, almost definitely looking like a rabid animal. It was a really good sandwich. He slipped the bag of chips into his hoody pocket for latter and drank the coffee while Logan went about actually chewing his food.
The caffeine helped a bit, but he certainly didn’t feel completely awake when they walked back to the car. Logan didn’t seem to mind when Virgil just set his head against the window and mentally drifted during the car ride. Eventually, they pulled into a driveway and Virgil sat up to blink at the house at the end of it. Then he blinked again.
“Did I,” he said slowly, “just get legally kidnapped?”
“Ah,” Logan said, “That would be an astute observation.”
“Huh.”
“Is that alright?” he asked. Virgil turned to see him watching him carefully. “Patton can be rather, err, exuberant.”
“I mean… this might as well happen.” He was far too tired to deal with figuring out how he felt about this. He remembered he’d really, really wanted it for a moment before he quashed those feelings after the doctor, Patton he presumed, had first suggested it. He didn’t know how he felt about it now that it was actually happening and didn’t have the energy to deal with it.
“I can take you back,” Logan offered quietly, and an uncomfortable, squirmy feeling in his chest cut through the dullness for a moment at the thought. “At any point if you are uncomfortable with the arrangement.”
“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “This is, like, a lot, and I’m really tired, but it’s fine I think.”
“Okay,” Logan said.
“Can I please, please sleep for a bit though?” he asked.
Logan’s eyes softened. “Of course. Patton prepared your room for you in the last few days. We’ll get a few other things for it later.”
“I would take a sleeping bag in the basement at this point.” Logan briefly pressed his hand to Virgil’s shoulder before he got out of the car.
Wow, Virgil thought, his shoulder still warm from the touch. There was, of course, no assurance that this would actually be an ultimately good thing, he reminded himself, but… but, wow.