THE ANGST! THE ANGST IS HERE! And it's only getting angstier. That and Remus Remusing is why this story is now rated T (and I'm paranoid). This chapter contains brief threats of torture to people who aren't there. Yup, we have chapter warnings now. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

I know I said the party was starting, but this chapter is Friday afternoon's last-minute setup. I promise the party is right around the corner. (I just wanted to write about Patton making cookies and Dukeceit being chaotic besties, if I'm being honest.)

Stay safe, please review, and enjoy reading!

...

Patton closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose. He could happily drown in the scent of freshly baked, currently baking, and patiently waiting to be baked cookies, and that was exactly what he intended to do. "I should really do this more often," he told his cat Glitter as she wandered into the kitchen. "It makes everything seem… homier."

Glitter licked her paw. She was difficult to impress.

Patton chuckled. "I forgive your skepticism, I haven't unveiled my masterpiece yet." He danced around the island in the middle of the kitchen to the other side-where he'd left the cat cookies to cool. That got Glitter's attention; she was by his side before he could call her. Still laughing, he passed a cookie down to her. As if they had a sixth sense, this brought the other three cats into the kitchen, each one mewling for Patton's baking.

As the cats devoured their treats, Patton surveyed the kitchen. There were two sheets of classic chocolate chip; one of them was normal, one of them gluten free, and the cookies of the third sheet had been decorated with chocolate frosting so the chocolate chips looked like spiders-if he was going to make Virgil go to a party, he could at least face his fears and make him the best cookies he'd ever had. There was one sheet of M&M cookies, one of oatmeal raisin, one of brownie chocolate chip, and one of snickerdoodles. The other sheet of snickerdoodles was in the oven. Two sheets of thumbprint cookies filled with Crofter's were waiting for their turn in the oven side-by side.

His smile faded a bit when he saw them. He was bribing his friend with cookies to try to force him into a social life. Something about that didn't seem… right.

But Patton felt almost responsible, like he had to do something. Logan had been in trouble and he hadn't felt like he could go to Patton for help. Did that mean Patton was a bad friend? Had he done anything to make Logan feel like he wasn't worth his time? He tried to remember every conversation he'd ever had with his studious friend, but it didn't seem like he'd done anything wrong. All he could think of doing at this point was making sure Logan felt welcome, and that started at this party.

Maybe he should've tried harder to invite Logan to sit with him at lunch. Maybe he should've joined him when he went to the library instead. Maybe he should've surprised him with sleepovers and sweets like he did with Roman instead of worrying about making him panic about the lack of preparation that went into impromptu slumber parties. Maybe he should've read that astronomy book Logan loved instead of giving up when the first page had three words he'd never heard before and seven more he didn't know the meanings of.

Maybe he should make more thumbprint cookies.

…

Roman finished hanging the lights in the living room. He'd already cleared off the kitchen counters, and before long he'd be picking Patton and all his cookies up. At this rate, everything would be set up by six fifteen, which meant they would be mostly set up by six thirty because Roman knew both he and Patton were easily distracted. Then Patton would go pick Virgil up. Most of the kids from drama would be trickling in after seven-they saved their dedication to arriving ten minutes early for tech week and only tech week-which would give Patton and Virgil plenty of time to get ready. Then the party would start and-

And then what?

Roman hadn't thought that far ahead. At all. He figured they'd watch any musical video they could get their hands on and either sing along or talk over it or act out scenes from other musicals and just generally be theater kids, but that was what most drama club parties were like. How was he going to talk to Virgil? How was he going to keep Remus from messing anything up? How was he going to get Logan to talk to the techies, and how long would it take for Logan to realize this wasn't a study group at all? Would Janus show up, and if he did, would he be there as an actor or as his brother's friend?

Roman realized he was spiralling. He looked around, taking in everything that had so far gone right. The lights strung up around the living room were all set to go. His prince costume was spotless, and he hadn't knocked anything over with his sword (yet). His parents were already in the city on their date night and wouldn't be back until morning. Logan was in Roman's room, making a study plan for the night based on Roman's homework, as well as finishing his own; he thought the prince costume was just Roman being Roman. Remus was at Janus's house doing who knew what, but at least he wasn't screwing anything up. Patton had been sending him pictures of cookies that were already making his mouth water, and of his adorable, fluffy cats eating their special treats. And Virgil hadn't backed out. Even if he did, Patton would have half an hour to convince him if they wanted to arrive more or less on time, and longer still for them to get there at all.

There. Seven things that were going right.

And a million that could still go wrong.

…

Remus and Janus sat back in unison, admiring their work. Remus was tearing up, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "It's beautiful," he breathed, almost afraid to speak in its presence.

Janus nodded, his eyes fixed on their creation. "Beautiful indeed. You remember how to set it up?"

"Yup! The only hard part is making sure Roman doesn't notice."

"I'll keep him from it once the party's going."

"Until Virgil's there."

"And then-"

"CHAOS!" Remus jumped, arms flailing. Janus moved their masterpiece before it was knocked over. Remus knew it was more fragile than they'd been hoping for, but none of their plans sounded good before they worked. To be fair, most of their plans didn't work, but that wasn't the point.

Remus sat back down. Most people didn't know it, and would laugh if they were told, but Remus was patient. Very patient. The best schemes required a good deal of waiting, and he knew the ends would more than justify the means. He could be patient if he knew there would be payoff. So he swung his legs back and forth and watched Janus as he set their creation down and began rummaging in his bag.

"Whatcha lookin' for, Dee?"

"Costume," he said shortly.

Remus jumped up. All the drama club parties were inevitably costume parties, usually with musical characters, but sometimes people just dressed however they wanted and made up their own stories. His duke costume was at home, but makeup was portable and could be more than entertaining. Besides, he always had at least three sets of fake fangs wherever he went, and over the years he'd perfected the art of making fake blood and scars out of almost anything red and black. He could be a vampire duke, or werewolf duke, or both at once, or-

"The phantom of the opera?"

Janus jumped, practically throwing the mask in his hand. For once it isn't me, Remus thought distractedly as he watched his friend scramble to regain his composure-something Janus rarely did around him. "Yes," he said, clearing his throat, hands behind his back. "The phantom of the opera."

Remus picked up the mask from where it had landed on the ground, holding it up. "Usually it goes on the right side of the face," he said.

Janus looked down, turning slightly so his scar was out of sight.

Remus threw the mask against the wall and sat down on the bed, staring at Janus until he joined him. And he sat in silence, knowing Janus wouldn't speak first otherwise. He didn't know much about Janus's burn scar, since he'd gotten it before they'd met and he'd never asked. He'd expected Janus to bring it up at some point. He never had. But Remus could wait.

And wait.

And wait.

When Janus broke the silence, his voice was shaking. "One time someone asked if I was an arsonist."

He was quiet again. Remus figured he was waiting for a response, so he said, "If you were, I know you'd be smart enough about it to not burn yourself."

Janus almost laughed. Almost. "That's what I said. Didn't stop him from spreading rumors." He was twisting his fingers together. Remus pulled his hands away. Finally, Janus said it.

"I just want to be normal."

Remus could've cried.

It almost occurred to him that this was the perfect time to think through what he was going to say, but all he could manage was: "But if you were normal, you wouldn't be my best friend."

Then his brain caught up and passed his mouth and he began talking over himself. "I don't mean your scar, I mean you're crazy sometimes and I'm crazy all the time so I can't have a not-crazy friend which is why you shouldn't be normal, because nobody's normal but people who pretend to be normal always hate me and you don't and I don't want you to change your mind because you're insecure about how you look and then become insecure about everything else, because you're awesome and I'll build a life-size version of our torture models for anyone who says otherwise!"

Janus was silent.

Remus was scared to look at him. "Am I already too crazy?"

"Oh yeah, definitely." Then an arm wrapped around Remus's shoulders. "That's why we're friends."

Remus tackle-hugged him, cackling. "Then let's go be unapologetically crazy."

Janus hugged him back. "Let's."

"And not try to hide what makes us awesome."

"Of course not." Janus pulled away. "I'll need a new costume though. Any ideas?"

"Ooh! I think I can make it look like you're crying blood, can I try that?"

"You know the pact: if you do my makeup, I get to do yours."

"As long as you make me look like a demon or serial killer or something."

"No promises."

And by that, he meant, of course I will.