First Published: December 18th 2017

Pairing: virgil/elliott (semi-platonic), elliott/mitchell (mentioned), background/implied logicality

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, cartoon therapy and sanders sides crossover

Word Count: 1334

Warnings: queerphobia, mentioned/implied toxic relationship

Summary: Virgil meets Elliott and his protective instincts kick in.

-

Virgil enters the living room intending to sit in front of the TV and waste the day by alternating between binging crappy shows and listening to the music blasting through his headphone when he sees it.

It, in this case, refers to Logan and Patton's fusion (who goes by... Emily Picanson or whatever) chatting to a nervous-looking Joan. Except, no, only sides can enter the mindscape, which means...

"What the fuck did you do now?" he sighs at the fusion, barely resisting the urge to put his head in his hands or to turn tail and pretend he didn't see anything.

The therapist looks up in surprise and flushes guiltily. He tries to stammer through a response, but the lack of preparation seems to make something in him short-circuit. Then, Logan and Patton fall apart in front of a now-even-more-nervous Joan-lookalike.

"We found them like that!" Patton protests as he picks himself off the floor. He grabs Logan's arm and pulls him up.

"Well," Logan interjects, and Virgil regrets asking because he knows this is just going to get far more complicated, "we were giving them couple's therapy turned regular therapy. The session had ended and since Elliott over here-" he gestures to them "-was our last patient, we headed back to the mindscape. For some reason, Elliott got pulled along with us."

Virgil sighs again. He honestly doesn't know whether it's worth dealing with until he takes a proper look at Joan's side – Elliott, his brain reminds him.

They're dressed in a monochromatic striped coat, black skinny jeans and black lace-up boots. They also share Virgil's appreciation for eyeliner.

'Fuck,' he thinks, 'they're cute.'

Maybe it's the way Elliott looks like they're on the verge of a breakdown, maybe it's the fact that they flinch at Patton's loud voice and big gestures as he and Logan walk away or maybe it's because they're definitely Virgil's type, but he finds himself wanting to stick around instead of running away from this weird mess. He also feels an overwhelming urge to protect the side. (He blames this urge on Patton, Logan and their eccentric fusion because they're all a little too much at times, but really, it's because Elliott reminds him of himself before he got accepted by his fellow sides. That simply won't do at all.)

"Okay, Elliot," he says as he walks up to them, sticking out his hand, "I'm Virgil."

Elliott's eyes widen. "Are you Thomas' Anxiety?!"

"It's Virgil," he snaps, perhaps more harshly than he intended.

Elliott blushes. "Right, sorry," they mumble, averting their gaze.

Virgil's expression softens. "It's okay. Sorry for going all weird on you. I just don't like being called... you know..."

"I totally understand!" Elliott assures him, then grabs his still-outstretched hand. They give it a shake. "I'm Joan's Anxiety. I didn't mean to offend you, I just can't believe that I'm actually meeting you!"

Virgil stays silent, chewing on his lip as he considers something.

"Virgil?" Elliott asks. "Did I say something wrong?"

Thomas' side snaps out of it. "No, not at all. I was just thinking." Virgil hesitates before continuing. "I want to try something. Tell me if you feel any... negative side effects and I'll get you out immediately." With that, he turns and walks out of the room.

"Negative side effects?" Elliott questions as they run after him.

"Welcome to our mindscape," Virgil mutters, not bothering to answer Elliott's question.

He stops outside a door and Elliott collides into him.

"Sorry!" They apologise.

"It's fine. Anyway, this is my room. You probably know that it can cause heightened anxiety in the other sides, but since you're, well, Anxiety too, it might not." He finally opens the door and steps inside. When he sees Elliott shifting from foot to foot in the doorway, he rolls his eyes and grabs their hand to drag them inside.

Once inside with the door shut behind them, Elliott lets go of Virgil's hand and looks around the room, jaw slack.

"So... what do you think?" Virgil tries to play the question off as casual, but he can't help desperately wishing for their approval.

"This," Elliott breathes, "is fucking awesome! Your posters are amazing- and oh my goodness, is that MCR?"

Virgil grins. "You like them?"

"Like them?! I love them!"

For the first time since Virgil saw them, Elliott stops hunching in on themself and smiles. 'It's a good look,' Virgil notes.

"Well, there's only one thing left to do," he states seriously. He grabs Elliott's hand again (maybe it's not necessary but maybe he wants to, so sue him) and pulls them over to his bed. His headphones are still around his neck even after he unplugs them from his phone and shuffles the Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge album and turns the speaker up as loud as it can go.

I'm Not Okay (I Promise) is the first. Both Virgil and Elliott hum along to it, but by the song's over, they're belting the lyrics as they hold each other. As it fades out, they exchange glances, breathless and wearing dopey smiles on their faces.

"Next one!" Elliott proclaims, and as they say it, Helena comes on.

They repeat the stupid, dramatic and surprisingly wonderful renditions of each song as they come on, only stopping when Interlude starts.

They laugh a little and try to catch their breath.

"So, Elliott, tell me about yourself in the remaining fifty seconds of our break," Virgil says, leaning back on the bed with his arms behind his head.

"There's not much to say," Elliot replies.

Virgil snorts. "Sure there is. Today you went to couple's therapy alone and ended up in another person's mindscape after somehow travelling with your therapist who turned out to be a fusion and now you're stuck with a fellow anxious side performing to various My Chemical Romance songs."

"Well... I guess you're probably wondering why I was at couple's therapy."

"Definitely, but I thought I had done a better job at hiding it."

Elliott laughs. "Okay, nerd." Virgil huffs but doesn't interrupt. "Basically, I have this friend who keeps telling me to see a therapist whenever I mention my relationship with my boyfriend, Mitchell."

"That's not good," Virgil frowns.

"He's actually alright!" Elliott defends. "He just, you know... doesn't put in as much effort into the relationship as I do – in my opinion, anyway. I'm probably just overthinking it. He always tells me I do. I don't know. Recently he forgot our anniversary, or maybe he just didn't want to celebrate. Mitchell's very sweet though! He helped me come out and he's honestly the bravest person I know, but sometimes he tells me that this relationship is so hard on him when he has everything else going on and sometimes he forgets my pronouns and-"

"How long has he known those pronouns?" Virgil asks, voice steely.

"A year."

"I'm going to kill him," Virgil states.

Elliott chuckles, but when they look up, Virgil's not smiling. "Wait, you're not serious, are you?" Virgil shrugs. "You can't kill my boyfriend!"

"I'm going to maim him."

"No."

"I'm going to tie him to a tree for several hours-"

"Not happening."

"Can I at least scare him just a little?" Virgil whines.

Elliott considers it. "Maybe," they concede.

Give 'Em Hell, Kid starts to play before Virgil can tell them just what 'a little' means to him. 'Probably for the best,' he muses.

By the time the album has finished, Elliott's asleep on his shoulder and Virgil has come up with a plan that involves a fake-robbery, creepy-house-noises, multiple hidden speakers and a petrified Mitchell.

'But that's for another day,' he decides as he gently shifts himself and Elliott so they're lying down next to each other. Joan's side looks so peaceful and relaxed that Virgil just wants to curl up with them.

(And if they're both clinging to each other fast asleep when Patton comes to check on them, well, who's to say whose fault it is?)