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Virgil was currently in a situation that he would describe as amusing and everyone else would describe as the exact opposite.
He adjusted his position on the cold metal of the interrogation chair he was in, crossing one leg over the other. His hands were cuffed to the table, and they rested as casually as they could on the edge of said monochromatic table. Virgil smirked over at the three people seated across from him.
The first, Heart, dressed in his baby blue supersuit, leaning forward slightly, hands clasped nervously in front of him. The famous white heart insignia on his chest glared at Virgil under the fluorescent lighting, just like the man’s white eye mask did, making it so that it was hard to look at him.
The second, Prince, in his usual attire of a super suit modeled to look like the classic Disney prince, sneering down at him. His red sash cut through the off-white that was the rest of his super suit, with his masquerade-style eye mask in the same blood color as the sash and crown-sword-castle symbol printed on his arms.
And the last, the third, Logic. The professional man's hair was styled neatly back, posture stiff, hands in his lap, surveying Virgil calmly. His suit was the most simple, the clean navy supersuit lacking in accents or frivolous designs and instead sticking with a simple black design with a white outline over his breastbone, a brain. His eye mask was the same, simple, elegant, in the same black. Virgil fluttered his eyelashes at his nemesis, getting no reaction in return.
“Anxiety,” Prince started calmly. Or, as calm as the man could be, which wasn’t very. His voice came out in a booming command, and Virgil successfully fought a flinch at the sound, “tell us what Duke and Deceit’s plans are.”
Virgil just tilted his head, and said nothing. Prince huffed in annoyance. They had been doing this for about twenty minutes now, if Virgil’s internal clock was correct, and they hadn’t gotten any closer to getting Virgil to talk.
“Prince,” Heart interjected softly before Prince could ask again, “have you considered the fact that maybe he’s mute?”
Prince stopped, furrowed his eyebrows, then shook his head.
“No, we’ve heard him talk,” he said. He paused. “Right?”
Logic shook his head.
“We have not,” he answered, voice even. “Anxiety has never spoken in battle before.”
To prevent confusion, it should be explained that just as Prince, Heart and Logic were superheroes, known as the Light Side, Duke, Deceit and Anxiety (Virgil) were supervillains, known as the Dark Side. Not that they did much villainy, except robbing corporations and causing general mayhem for the rich assholes that lived in the city. Duke was Prince’s twin, which meant they were arch-enemies already, and it was easy to mutually decide that Heart and Deceit could be enemies just like Anxiety and Logic could be enemies. This worked fine for Virgil.
What also worked fine for Virgil was this train of thought that the three supers in front of him had started. No, he wasn’t mute, he just didn’t like to talk much in battle. However, he was not above having a little fun until his teammates came to get him from the building he was being held in, so instead of talking and telling the group that he could, in fact speak, he did the following.
Virgil tilted his head curiously, tapped on the table twice to ensure he had everyone’s attention, and then spoke for the first time in the last however long they had had him.
“Du irrst dich, ich kann gut sprechen,” (You are wrong, I can speak well.) he said, completely straight faced.
Heart’s face dropped into one of surprise, eyes wide and mouth open, while Prince’s had gone almost completely blank, eyebrows raised and mouth a thin line. Logic stayed impassive, apart from the slight twitch of his eyebrows.
“Was that-” Prince blinked. “Was that German?”
“It- appears that he was speaking German, yes,” Logic said, stuttering slightly.
“Can he even understand English?” Heart asked, eyes still impossibly wide.
“Ja, ich verstehe Englisch,” (Yes, I understand English.) Virgil answered, rolling his eyes slightly.
“I heard the word English,” Prince said, mostly speaking on autopilot while his brain caught up to what was happening. Virgil bit his lip to prevent a snicker.
“He must understand English, because he has responded physically to verbal taunts during battle,” Logic said, regaining his composure and studying Virgil intently.
“So he just doesn’t speak English?” Heart asked, and Prince scoffed.
“If he understands it then he can speak it, he’s just messing with us,” he sneered, crossing his arms and glaring at Virgil.
“Not necessarily,” Logic said, reaching a hand up to his face to adjust something as a habit, only to meet open air. He frowned slightly, then placed his hand back in his lap. “Understanding something is much easier than speaking it, as when you speak you have to create your own sentence structure, choose the correct words, use the correct tense and conjunctions, etcetera. When you hear or read something, you can use context clues and things you already know as a way of comprehending.” Logic shrugged. “Plus, for all we know, he might have a translator as a part of his comm.”
Heart looked at Virgil curiously as Prince huffed again, tightening his already crossed arms.
“So, what should we do?” Heart asked, looking at Logic. Logic looked back.
“The solution is simple,” he said. “We need a translator.”
— — —
The translator’s name was Jamie, and she was very nice.
Virgil guessed it had taken the group around thirty minutes to get their hands on someone who could speak German, and when they finally did, they led her into the room carefully, all the while assuring her that Virgil was no threat to her.
For his part, he tried to look as least threatening as possible, relaxing back into the chair and smiling at her. She gave him a tentative smile back, tucking her blond hair behind her ear. They pulled a chair up for her, next to Heart, and then she introduced herself.
“Hallo, mein name ist Jamie,” (Hello, my name is Jamie.) she said kindly. “Es ist schön, dich kennenzulernen.” (It's nice to meet you.)
Virgil furrowed his eyebrows, realized they might not be able to see that with his black spiderweb eye mask, then titled his head and made his confusion a bit more obvious.
“извините, что?” (Sorry, what?) Virgil asked. Jamie’s face stayed blank for a second, before realization took over. Virgil flicked his eyes to see Prince and Heart looking dumbstruck, and Logic with one eyebrow raised.
“Uh, sorry,” Jamie started, “but he’s not speaking German. I think that’s Russian,” she added after a second.
“Are you sure?” Heart asked softly, as Prince tried to compose himself.
Jamie nodded.
“They’re pretty different,” she said. “Are you sure he was speaking German the first time?”
“Yes,” Logic answered calmly. “But apparently not anymore.” He paused, looking over his teammates, before speaking again. “Thank you for your help, Ms. Jones.”
Jamie left the room with another quick ‘sorry’ and a kind goodbye to Virgil, who smiled at her in return. As soon as she was out of the room, Prince glared at Virgil.
“What the hell was that?” he demanded.
“понятия не имею, о чём ты,” (I don't know what you're talking about.) Virgil answered calmly, and Prince’s face flushed a red not dissimilar to his sash.
“It’s okay,” Heart assured him, trying for a comforting smile and landing more along the lines of confused grimace. “We just need another translator.”
— — —
Said translator arrived approximately forty-five minutes later. He was a thin man with sharp features wearing a scowl, and it wasn’t hard to guess that he was taken from something he didn’t want to be taken from.
He sat down in the chair previously occupied by Jamie, and didn’t wait for any prompting from any of the heroes.
"Здравствуйте. Меня зовут Вал. Как тебя зовут?” (Hello. My name is Val. What's yours?) he said roughly, and Virgil took a moment to appreciate what was about to happen.
“C'est vraiment agréable de te rencontrer, ma chérie,” (It's really nice to meet you, darling.) Virgil practically purred, blowing Val a kiss. There was a moment of silence, where Heart raised his eyebrows, Logic sighed quietly, and Prince closed his eyes in resignation as Val just stared.
Then Val stopped staring, turning to the three heroes and standing up abruptly.
“That’s not Russian!” he shouted. “That’s fucking French! They’re not even alike!”
Logic pursed his lips.
“Yes, sir, I am aware they are nothing alike,” he said slowly. “I assure you, when we called you in here he was speaking Russian.”
“Well, he’s not now!” Val yelled back. “This was such a waste of time-”
“Sir, please calm down,” Heart asked kindly. Virgil sucked on his lips in order to contain his grin.
“Calm down!?” Val almost screamed. “I am calm!”
Prince glared his fiercest glare across the table at Virgil, who only met his gaze calmly.
“Sir-”
“Just get a different fucking translator!”
— — —
This one took them an hour, which meant Virgil had plenty of time to wonder how they could get a Russian speaker who obviously didn’t want to come faster than they could get a French speaker.
They did, eventually, procure one, though. He walked in first, followed by the three heroes, and nodded at Virgil before taking a graceful seat. He seemed to be a happy medium between Jamie’s kindness and Val’s Val-ness, and introduced himself without any prompting.
“Bonjour,” (Hello,) he started with a casual smile. “Je m'appelle Nathaniel. Ils m'ont dit que vous es très frustrant,” (My name is Nathaniel. They told me that you're very frustrating,) Nathaniel said simply, and Virgil let out a surprised laugh.
“Avant que vous ne fasses quoi que ce soit de mal,” (Before you do anything bad,) he continued, “j'espérais que vous pourrais me dire si je serai nécessaire ici?” (I was hoping you could tell me if I'll be needed here?)
Virgil laughed again, and Nathaniel’s smile widened. Virgil shook his head as an answer to his question, and Nathaniel nodded in response, both men still smiling.
“Passez une journée bonne, monsieur.” (Have a good day, sir.) Nathaniel got up and left with a small wave to the room, letting the door swing shut behind him before any of the heroes could get a word out.
Prince turned to Virgil.
“What was that?” he asked angrily, and Virgil raised an eyebrow.
“¿Qué quieres decir?” (What do you mean?) he asked innocently, and Prince stood up harshly, a finger pointed in Virgil’s face.
“Aha!” he shouted. “¡Yo hablo español! ¡Vete a la mierda!” (I speak Spanish! Fuck off!)
“Oh, sorry,” Virgil said, the crisp English accent taking everyone by surprise. “My mistake.” He cleared his throat. “私たちは何について話していましたか？” (What were we talking about?)
There was a minute where he was stared at by the three heroes, before Prince exploded.
“You can speak English?!” he shrieked, face becoming that nice red color that matched his sash again.
“いいえ.” (No.) Virgil folded his finger together, uncrossed his legs, then crossed them the other way, looking over innocently at the group and desperately trying to maintain his composure.
“You just did,” Heart said, tilting his head enough for his chestnut curls to tumble over each other. He seemed to be in some sort of shock, and Virgil had to work harder to school his face into one of confused innocence, shaking his head.
Before Prince could start on the loud rant that Virgil could see him building up to, he abruptly asked “何時間ですか？” (what time is it?), pointing at his wrist.
Logic seemed to understand what he was asking, because the hero checked his own wrist to read his watch face before saying “4:30 PM”.
Prince turned to shoot him a glare, muttering something that sounded like ‘betrayal’. Virgil grinned.
“Oh, well that’s alright, then,” he said, and they all jumped at the sound of the English accent again.
“Are you going to stick with English this time?” Logic asked him, sounding tired. Virgil leaned back, shrugging.
“I don’t see why not,” he answered honestly, and Heart smiled at him.
“So all of that was to, what, be annoying?” Prince asked angrily.
“Come on, Princey,” Virgil responded, laughing a little. “You have to admit, that was hilarious.”
“No,” the sash-wearing man crossed his arms, “no it was not.”
Virgil shrugged again. He leaned forward, adjusting himself again by uncrossing his legs.
“Hey, could Logic and I have a minute?” Virgil fixed his gaze on the said hero. “We’re nemeses, yet we’ve never talked to each other. Seems now’s a good time to fix that.”
Logic raised an eyebrow. “And what do we have to talk about?”
“Dunno,” Virgil answered, still smiling. “I’m sure we could think of something.”
— — —
It took much more convincing than should have been necessary, but after around 15 minutes of arguing, Prince finally agreed to let Logic and Virgil have their conversation, with the technicality that both he and Heart could observe and listen in. Virgil agreed, and both heroes left the room, the door swinging behind them with a solid clang .
Virgil leaned forward even more, so his hands that were still cuffed to the table were hidden by his torso. Logic remained impassive.
“It’s so nice to talk to you,” Virgil gushed. “I have imagined it, really. Although, usually it happens in a battle and you confess your love to me.” He paused, as if waiting for Logic to interrupt with a love confession. That did not happen. “No?” Silence. “Disappointing.”
Virgil leaned back off the table.
“You are behaving much differently than you do in battle,” Logic noted, voice even.
This was true. Virgil was very reserved in battle, usually staying on the side and working in the shadows (literally, that was his power. Shadow manipulation.). It was why he and Logic made such good enemies. Neither felt particularly inclined to banter with each other, and they both tried to minimize damage done around them, never wrapped up in themselves. The way Virgil was acting now was a far cry from how he usually did.
“A bad different?” Virgil asked, shifting again.
“That depends,” Logic answered calmly, “on what you are planning on doing now that you are no longer cuffed to the table.”
Virgil blinked, then grinned widely. He brought his free hands up to rest on the table, twisting them together. Logic only appraised them indifferently.
“Actually,” Virgil started, “I was hoping that I could just check-” he reached over to grab Logic’s right wrist, tugging it towards him and leaning forward at the same time. “Yeah, thanks.”
Logic didn’t do anything to fight the movement, as Virgil knew he wouldn’t. Checking the time wasn’t exactly a punishable offense.
Said time blinked up at him. 4:57.
“Well,” Virgil said brightly, standing up and moving around the table to hop up and sit on its surface next to where Logic was seated, making him turn to look up at Virgil, “this has been fun.”
“Will it not be fun anymore?” Logic asked curiously. “You used the past tense.”
“I did,” Virgil confirmed. “See, I have to wait a second. The timing, you understand,” he implored, giving a sympathetic shake of his head.
“The timing for what?” Logic asked, finally looking and sounding suspicious.
Virgil didn’t answer, just sat on the table, swinging his feet under him. He glanced over to the door to see the light above it red, meaning it was locked. He had assumed it was, otherwise Heart and Prince would have been rushing in as soon as they realized he was out of his bonds.
After counting to sixty in his head, Virgil reached over and gently took Logic’s wrist, checking the time again. 4:59.
“Sorry, love,” Virgil finally spoke, hopping off the table. “I’d adore staying and chatting more,” he dragged a hand along Logic’s shoulders as he walked behind the hero, ending with his hand resting next to Logic’s neck and their faces right in front of each other, “but my ride is here.”
The wall to their left collapsed in on itself, falling away to reveal the busy city stories below them. Wind whipped into the room, sending both their capes flapping, and Virgil's bangs into his eyes, which he kept fixed on Logic’s. A car horn sounded.
“Think of me,” Virgil finished with, straightening and walking backwards towards the missing wall, holding Logic’s eyes, “in whatever language you think is sexiest.”
Virgil tipped backwards out of the building, freefalling for all of five seconds before Duke caught him, welcoming him back with a manic smile. As they flew away on the hoverboard, Virgil caught sight of Logic’s silhouette, watching them leave.
— — —
Logan unlocked and opened the door to his apartment with little fanfare. Just because he was a superhero for a living didn’t mean he had to be dramatic in everything he did, and his civilian life was one of those things he kept as simple and enjoyable as possible.
He called out to announce his presence, smiling at the answering shout from the living room.
Simple apartment, enjoyable company. As was such in his civilian life.
After taking off his shoes, dropping his bag on the counter and loosening his tie, Logan walked into the living room to see Virgil lounging on the couch, flipping through channels on the tv, changed out of his super suit and into a pair of sweatpants and an unzipped hoodie. His husband smiled up at him, setting the remote down and making grabby hands. Logan was familiar with this part of his routine, and only huffed in a vague sense of amusement before he closed the distance between them and fell onto the couch.
Virgil curled into his side quickly, nuzzling his head into Logan’s neck.
“How was work?” Virgil asked, as if he wasn’t there the whole day. He was no longer speaking in that ridiculous English accent, letting his deep, natural American one relax Logan’s shoulders.
“There was this very annoying villain we had to interrogate today,” Logan answered anyway, because Virgil had been quipping at him all day and Logan wasn’t allowed to quip back while he was ‘Logic the Superhero’. But now he was just Logan Gray, husband of Virgil Gray, and he was more than allowed to tease his husband. So he did.
Said husband sat up slightly to glare at him, with no heat behind it.
“Rude,” he scoffed. “I was a delight.”
“Oh, of course,” Logan deadpanned. “Having us run around for three different translators and refusing to even speak English was delightful behavior.”
“Yes, it was,” Virgil answered happily, deliberately ignoring the sarcasm dripping off Logan’s tone. He leaned back into his husband, and Logan opened his arms despite the fact that he was also rolling his eyes. Virgil started to tug on his tie, undoing it.
“And anyway,” he continued, “I did speak English.”
“Only at the end,” Logan grumbled, and Virgil grinned up at him.
“That reminds me,” he paused, swinging a leg over Logan’s lap so he could pull himself up to be sitting in it, looping his arms around Logan’s neck. Logan instinctively brought his hands to Virgil’s waist to steady him, and he started to rub circles with his thumbs on the exposed skin there, “which language did you decide was the sexiest?”
Logan let out a little laugh, and Virgil preened, just like he did every time he successfully got Logan to laugh.
“You know, I did actually think about that,” Logan said, and Virgil’s smile widened. “And I decided that I like your normal voice the best.” Logan brought a hand up to cradle Virgil’s chin. “It’s the most like you.”
Virgil’s expression dropped into something much softer, and he pressed his forehead against Logan’s with a content sigh.
“You’re such a sap, Lo,” he whispered, lips brushing Logan’s.
“You married me,” Logan pointed out, not leaning into the kiss just yet.
“I did,” Virgil confirmed, smiling. “Are we gonna sit here and talk about it, or are you gonna kiss me?”
Logan smiled back, and pressed their smiles together in answer.
There was no more talking, in any language, for a little while.