Plenty of Treasures

Staring

Pairing(s): Prinxiety

Word Count: 984

Warnings: There are like, two swear words

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“Something’s been bothering you.”

“Yeah? Well, something is always bothering you.”

There was a certain upward lilt to his words, guiding Virgil’s eyes to his face and leading them through the rare sight of his damp and curly hair, down to the soft hairs of his brows that seemed to somehow highlight the smooth clear forehead that rested above them – not that you couldn’t spot a couple of faded frown lines that reminded Virgil of the times he’d spend analysing and annotating a script until he had as perfect of an understanding as he could of his role.

Frown lines dipped in honey then led him to a familiar pair of prominent round eyes the colour of distilled fifty year-old whiskey, shaped by the soft creases at their edges that whispered memories of blurry New Year’s celebrations and standing ovations. Lashes envied by not only Virgil, but most people either of them had come into contact with who were vain in any capacity or amount. Long, dark, and curved in a way that framed his eyes rather than covered them. Something that Virgil would have killed a man to have. 

Riding down the slope of his nose, Virgil focused completely on the clear toffee complexion of his roommate’s skin, tinted pink and red and every warm colour on the spectrum because he was just a warm person. Like a metaphorical space heater that filled him only with comfort and the feeling Virgil knew he got after the conclusion of every successful performance.

Then those eyes snapped in his direction and that beautiful image leapt to the back of his mind like a common thief. “You want to know what’s bothering me?” he asked, eyes firmly searching his face for a hint of weakness that could topple his poorly-crafted facade down.

He leaned forward so much that, if he were paying attention, Virgil would have noticed speckles of green and red that seemed to light up whenever the man was even slightly irritated. And he perhaps would have taken note of how, even when narrowed, Roman’s eyes never seemed to lose their doe-like roundness. But obviously, due to the circumstances, his thoughts were concentrating more on the fact that he was going to set himself on fire.

“I’ve caught you staring at me a million times this week! What’s up with that? I don’t- I can’t say I’m really comfortable with it, to be honest. Have I done something to upset you or something?”

Should Virgil have then gone with being defensive or apologetic?

Trying to ignore the heat creeping up his spine, Virgil shrunk away from his friend and cleared his throat, reaching clumsily for the back of his neck, suddenly feeling burning sharp claws lightly trace every insult Roman should have been calling him at that point into his gradually reddening skin. “Sorry, I just tend to- I just- Zoning out. It’s a thing I do a lot. Sorry about that. Sorry.”

Roman, again, searched for something in his face, his body language, and apparently anything else he could possibly see before softening his expression. “So… It’s not, like, a mean thing? I don’t know how else to phrase it.”

“No, I just can’t help it sometimes.”

Then, a smile. “What does that mean?”

Not fully realising how much his words had implied, Virgil decided only to dig his grave even deeper. “I mean that… I dunno, like, staring at you isn’t supposed to be malicious or anything. You’re not even meant to notice. It’s more like a, uh… subconscious thing? I guess? My mind just immediately turns to you all the time, I dunno.”

There was a full ten seconds of silence before Virgil managed to register the quiet intake of breath beside him, or the fingers closing around his gently. “What, do you like…” pausing, Roman took a second to calculate the weight of his words before spewing them out into the air. “Do you, like… like me?

“What? Of course I do.”

“Maybe I should take you on a date then.”

Virgil froze. Because oh, he meant that kind of ‘like’. Not that it wasn’t true, if his glorified description of the man hadn’t clued his heart in on anything yet. But Roman wanted to take him on a date? “Like, an actual date? Romantic and shit?”

Laughing in that way that always managed to throw Virgil’s stomach in loops, where he let out a little snort in between quiet bursts, Roman nodded and turned in his direction once again. Even then, after such an unexpected outcome to such a casual conversation, Virgil felt humbled under his gaze. Which was incredibly stupid because, truthfully, Roman was no better or more a member of royalty than Virgil was. He was just Roman Garcia. But at the same time, there was no such thing as just Roman Garcia.

“Yes. ‘Romantic and shit’.”

In a completely involuntary reaction, Virgil felt a grin pull at not only his lips, but also his cheeks and his eyes and his ears and just every part of his being was smiling at the thought of being any interest at all of Roman Garcia, a regular man who could never be truly ordinary. “Are you being serious? Like, you’re not messing with me? I’ll be really pissed if you are.”

Again, Roman laughed. “Not messing with you. I like you a lot and have for a while. And I really want to take you out on a date, but only if you want to.”

And as rain pelted against the glass behind them, blurring their perspective of the city life below and giving them a calm atmosphere that their hearts just didn’t seem to notice, Virgil smiled wider and gripped his hand in return. 

“I’d really like that.”