Droid's Sanders Sides One-Shots

Words [Intruality] [AU]

Word Count: 1286

A/N: Kind of a weird one! Soulmate AU where the first words you say to your soulmate are written on their skin. Not quite the pairing mentioned, but whatever, close enough.

TW: moral dilemmas, intrusive thoughts, mention of tricking someone into a relationship.

(Edit: Published an alternate version in death_by_fanfic's WTIYS-- mostly by accident, bc I thought the oneshot was lost in transit-- but I'll leave this up anyway, I guess XD)

Remus can't take his eyes off the note. 

One of his detention buddies slipped it into his locker earlier, returning the favor after Remus set him up on a date: five words, scribbled on a crumbled piece of notebook paper and completely innocuous.

Pretty sucky weather today, huh?

Five words from the back of Patton Foster's shoulder, where they're usually covered by his shirt or his cardigan. Five words that will tell him who his soulmate is— not Remus' brother, or that buff nerd, or even the Starbucks addict. Not Remus, either.

But this is an opportunity. If Remus waits for the right moment and says these words, Patton will never know the difference. Remus could burn off his own lines and call it an accident. He has accidents all the damn time, not even Roman would question him. He could say the words on the paper and Patton would love him forever, because that's the kind of person he is.

Remus could have the boy he's been watching from afar since middle school. He could hang out all he wants with his brother's sunny friend, who spends his weekends playing with puppies at the Humane Society and probably isn't even capable of considering the demented things that run through Remus's head every day. 

Patton would never question whether Remus was faking. He'd wait for him outside the school every day with a bouquet of flowers. He'd smile and kiss him and listen to him ramble, would tolerate him forever because he thought fate told him to, never finding his actual soulmate at all. Even if he did hear the words again-- even if he heard them properly-- he wouldn't want to leave Remus. Remus knows. 

Roman's told him all about Patton's determined loyalty, and his stupid belief that everything works out in the end. He'd try to be happy with Remus. He'd pretend to have fun with someone whose idea of entertainment is arson and criminal mischief. He'd make his friends include Remus even though half of them, Roman included, hate him on sight. 

The right line at the right time and Remus would never be alone again.

And it's not like he's ever claimed to be a good person, is it? Everyone knows he's the bad twin, even their parents. They all expect the worst from him, even when he's not doing anything wrong, they'll shun and snicker and whisper behind their hands, offer him drugs and blame him for other peoples' actions, because it's Remus, of course he had something to do with it, of course he's into that, he's such a freak-- 

Why shouldn't he be the worst, huh? Why not take what he can from the world, get one speck of brightness in his shitty existence? Why's he have to get the short end of the stick in soulmates, too?

Why not devour the rest of Patton's life like the parasite he is? Doesn't he just love breaking Roman's toys?

A tentative hand waves in front of his face, connected to a boy at least a head shorter than him. He's dressed in pastel blues and whites, smiling nervously, and Remus decides that, yeah, the universe really does hate him. That's Patton right there. 

"Hi!" Roman's friend chirps, faltering a little at Remus's stare. He's probably cataloguing how Remus looks-- the leather, the piercings, the full fucking foot of height he has on the pipsqueak-- and rethinking his life. Heh. Typical. "Um, it's Remus, right? Roman's brother? You look a lot like him!"

Remus towers over him. He could beat him up and there'd be nothing Patton could do about it, could bully him to goad Roman into a fight. What's Patton doing approaching him? Doesn't he know he should stick to the good brother?

Remus doesn't respond. He clenches the note in his hand, Patton's words ringing through his head, and it takes physical effort not to speak. One chance. He has one chance, can't he have a single nice thing in his life? He'd be a good soulmate. He'd try so hard, he'd do everything right, Patton would never want for anything--

Patton continues, rubbing the back of his head, "I noticed you got back from juvie, and it's almost lunch and you're still standing here and I dunno if your old friends are around 'cause they got arrested, like a lot? So I thought I'd invite you to sit with us! You remember Logan and everyone, right? Usually we eat outside, but since it's raining we're staying in—"

The perfect opening. Does Patton sprinkle weather comments into everything he says, in case one attempt at small talk yields soulmate-level results? That's smart. Remus would never think of that. 

He could say Patton's words right now, with that opening. It would almost sound natural. No one would be the wiser, they'd never have to know, he could say it—

He thinks of Roman's smile when he hears Patton's name, and the nerd's infodumping whenever the pipsqueak gets in range, and the bright happy fairy-tale life someone that sweet's bound to have, and decides his own hopes and dreams can get fucked.

Remus might not care that soulmates are sacred, but Patton does. Just this once, he doesn't feel like being the villain of the story. "Sounds great!" he says brightly, killing all his chances in one fell swoop, and something dark inside him curls up and dies. It's a clean death, though. An antiseptic pain. Like cutting rotten flesh from a wound. "I've always hated rain anyway. Feels like God pissing on me."

Patton chides, "Now, mister, just because we're about to wash our hands in the bathroom doesn't mean you have to be a potty-mouth." 

Remus gasps. "Wash our hands? I'll have you know the grime on my hands is fuckingantique. I haven't washed it off since eighth grade!"

"Roman said to tell you to think of it like washing blood off your hands," Patton says cheerily, like that's a normal thing to say and not scarily awesome. "After murder evidence, germs have gotta be small potatoes."

"Can't I use hand sanitizer instead?" Remus complains, only half-mocking. Patton's leading him to the bathroom and he's following, for some reason, pulled along like a worm on a string. "It's fun to drink! Basically alcohol."

"I will accept no imi-taters," Patton declares, glancing up and dimpling like he's hoping Remus caught the pun. "We aren't tiny tots anymore! We've gotta be hygienic now. It's part of being an adult."

"I do love adultery," Remus remarks, remembering one of Roman's sillier anecdotes, and Patton beams in agreement. Fuck, that's adorable. "Gotta do one thing first, though."

Patton nods, all serious like he's being supportive of whatever the hell Remus is gonna do, and Remus crumples up the note and swallows it, so fast it doesn't even cut his throat. There. Let it dissolve in his stomach like a body in a bathtub full of hydrochloric acid. Try submitting that evidence to the cops. "All done!" 

"Gosh, I guess you are hungry."

"Like the wolf," Remus confides. "It's in my name and everything! Now c'mon, are we washing our hands or not, Pat In The Hat?"

Patton's eyes go wide as saucers. "You're giving me a nickname?"

"I'm giving you a whole shit ton," Remus promises, and throws an arm around his shoulders. One of his classmates comes out of the bathroom, pales at the sight of him, and bolts. Ha, dork. That's right, Patton's his friend now. Sometimes Remus loves his reputation. "We're friends now, aren't we?"

"Yep!" Patton says with another nod, adorably certain, and Remus makes a promise to himself, too. 

Fuck his impulses. They're gonna stay that way.