does…does the jam just keep reappearing…logan eats it and then it’s fine again…logan what are u doing to that jam…why does it keep reinventing itself
Hi, yes, the Roman skirt pics watered my crops and healed my soul, so I wrote a quick drabble in their honor! This was entirely unplanned. But. Hi. Yes. The Roman skirt picks watered my crops and healed my soul, so–
(Title is from Ready to Go by Panic! at the Disco. This fic is on Ao3 here!)
Pairings: platonic DLAMP
Words: 1742
Warnings: a bit of insecurity and anxiety
“I’ve gathered you here,” Roman said, “for an important consultation. Thank you all for coming.”
Patton grinned back. Logan looked confused. Virgil blinked blearily, having been just dragged from his bed and plopped on the living room couch with the other Sides. Janus stifled a yawn with one gloved hand, another drumming on his knee.
“Do we…” Logan paused. “Am I alone in being confused?”
“Oh, no, you’re the only one who doesn’t get it,” Janus drawled. He examined his nails. “I had important things to do. This had better be worth it.”
“You owe me,” Roman said. He squared his shoulders and prepared his speech. “And this is extremely important. Life-threatening! A dilemma for the ages!”
“Yay!” Patton said, clapping.
“Wait, wait.” Virgil squinted suspiciously across the couch. “Deceit is here?”
“I don’t have a name.”
“Janus is here because, as I said, he owes me.” Roman paused and braced himself. “Also, although I’m loathe to admit it, he is skilled in the dramatic arts. Such as–fashion.”
