Sanders Sides One Shots

Rehearsal - Roceit

Summary: Roman needs help rehearsing a scene, and Dee is the only one available

"...are you really sure about this?"

Deceit had already made the effort to go to Roman's room, remove his hat and cape, and answer this question twice already. It was somewhat... endearing, before, knowing that Roman cared about his wishes so much. But now, it was just pissing him off.

"Must I remind you again?" Deceit just rolled his eyes, a pang thudding in Roman's chest as he heard the annoyance. "Virgil would be terrified. Remus is your brother. Patton and Logan are off on a date. I'm all you have left. Trust me, I'm /thrilled/ to be here."

Sure, all of that was true. But Roman could have rehearsed this scene alone. He could have /not/ set those two up on a date just so they'd be out of the house when this time came. He could have done a million things that didn't involve this moronic plan to get Deceit to be his Juliet. But Roman was a moron anyway.

"...right. Let's just... get it over with, then." Breathe, Roman. You've done this scene before. If you can't do it in front of your... friend, then how can you do it in front of a crowd?

Turn around. Focus. Character. You're not Roman staring at Deceit. You are Romeo. He is Juliet. Nothing unusual here. " If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss."

Deceit didn't have one second of hesitation before responding like he'd done this a million times. "Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch. and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss." Roman couldn't tell whether Deceit was an amazing actor or his heart was trying to force him to break character.

Stop. Stop. One step closer. Suave, confident prince. "Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"

Deceit's smirk and mirrored movement nearly made him fall over. "Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer."

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; they pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair." Despite the alarms going off in Roman's head, he followed the stage directions and took Deceit's hand in his. For only a second, his eyes flashed to something Roman could not recognize.

"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake."

"...Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take."

Silence. Roman did not move forward with the action that was meant to follow, and Deceit did not move away. It felt like an hour that they were staring at each other. In reality, it was maybe 30 seconds before Deceit cleared his throat and pulled his hand away.

"You seemed to do just fine. Perform like that, and you'll /never/ get another lead role again." Roman only snapped out of his daze when Deceit spoke, taking a few steps back.

"...you... Sounded like you've done this before?" Deceit just rose an eyebrow.

"Being a pathological liar requires being... Rather convincing. Acting is just a societally accepted series of lies."

Before another word could be spoken, Deceit had grabbed his belongings and was out the door. For nearly 10 minutes, Roman stood frozen in place with his jaw dropped open.

...maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"DID YOU TWO FUCK YET?"

"R E M U S-"