Chapter Text
You're seven without any quarters as you stare at a penny machine. You have a penny that is luckily shiny despite you finding it on the ground. Your small heart beats quickly as the hotel bustles.
You turn to ask Roman, or any of his siblings if they have quarters - but they seem to be fighting. Or Shiv, Roman, and Kendall seem to be pushing each other as Connor laughs as he tries to pull them apart. They're far from you, tufts of brown and red hair and pale skin.
"Stop, asshole!"
"You can't say asshole, you're only eight!"
You swallow, turning back as you flip the coin around in your curled hand. You look up to the machine, staring at the choice to have a penny with Chicago on it, a little violet under the name.
The state's flower.
You think, or a thought trickles in when you turn to the hall. The business endeavors floor.
You start practicing words and you take small steps, a sudden sweat coming to your body.
You've always been told to not be afraid to ask things, the worst they can say is no. But you know the only other person you know on this floor can do much worse.
But also, you really want a pressed penny with a pretty flower on it.
"Mr. - Mr. Logan, do you have two pennies?" You swallow, mming as you fix your dress. "Just - two quarters. Not pennies, you have a penny."
The hall feels colder, silent - but a glassed office comes into your sight
Mr. Logan is clear to see as he reads, sat head of the long, long table.
That's where you remember that a meeting is about to start soon. And you're not the one to know that Mr. Logan doesn't like to be interrupted at meetings the most.
The ones who shouts you can hear down the hall are.
You go to walk back down the hall, fear spiking in the patters of your heart when you're too late to make sure you don't catch Mr. Logan's eyes.
You almost run.
"Hey!"
And you know to stop, you defeated.
You turn back, curling your toes in your shoes as Mr. Logan waves you to come into the glassed office. His mouth slightly open and glasses tipped on his voice.
You turn the handle.
"Are you snooping, girly?"
Your grip on the penny tightens.
"No, I'm sorry Mr. Logan. I just - I just...I wasn't snooping."
Mr. Logan stares at you for a slight moment before turning back to whatever he's reading.
"If you're being honest, you don't have to be scared. I don't have the rights in my Godfather policies to pull on your ear." He flips a page, scanning the new words. "Come on, what is it that you need? Too tired of my children? Shouldn't have asked your father to come on this trip if so."
You swallow when you remember how you begged daddy to bring you along.
And you don't think you could ever get tired of the Roy siblings.
"I just - I just...Mr. Logan, do you have two quarters?"
Mr. Logan stops reading. He turns his head to you.
"What could you possibly get today with two quarters?"
He sounds like he's in disbelief, but low. You look to your mary-janes.
"...A penny."
And with that, Mr. Logan leans his whole weight onto his chair, one hand flat of the table before it's in his lap.
"A penny?"
"A-from the penny machine."
Mr. Logan looks past you to the glass door.
"That thing outside?" He pushes the chair back in, both hands flat on the table.
"That's a bad deal."
You tilt your head. Mr. Logan lowers his chin, sighing.
"If you want me to be nice, I can give you two quarters to waste. But you're not a stupid child, girly. So I'm going to tell you, fifty cents to sell for a penny is not a good deal in any sense."
You watch as your toes move under your shoes, you look up to Mr. Logan with wide eyes, lips pulled to the sigh.
"Do not look at me as if I'm not telling the truth." Mr. Logan puts his arms of the armrests of the chair. "But I'm assuming you want the penny still."
When you think about it, the way Mr. Logan sounds - 50 cents to one, you're not sure anymore.
But then you think of flowers, so you nod anyway.
Mr. Logan raises his brows, eyes blinking. You think it would be an eye-roll if Mr. Logan wasn't Logan Roy.
He pulls out his wallet, coins clinking. The movement of going through his wallet almost makes his eyes look like he's reading. The same eyes in different things. He pulls on two quarters and they're pinched his pointer finger and thumb.
"Only giving this to you so your father doesn't pull on my damn ears. But if I ever say no, just know it's a favor, alright?"
You walk up to him, palm opening. He drops the quarters into your hand.
And your heart beats with static when he curls your fingers over them. Mr. Logan pats your closed palm, smiling smally.
His smiles are only warm when everything else is cold. It's cold in here.
But then he drops it when he looks past you.
"Romulus! The hell are you doing?" Mr. Logan lowers his chin when he glances back at you. "You see? This is snooping. Get in here."
You turn to see your small, brown-hair friend slowly walking in. His hair is messy from a fight he probably lost, knobby at his khakied knees.
"Who taught you to listen in on other people's conversations, hm?" Mr. Logan puts focus back to the table. "Both of you, leave. And don't bother me for quarters or anything else. And nothing in this meeting will concern you, Roman, no need to peek your damn head around the corner like you're a ghost trying to scare."
"Sorry, Dad-"
"If any of my kids had to scare my colleagues away, it'd be you, Romulus." Mr. Logan straightens out his glasses. "And that's only a joke. It's a shame I have to remind you of that but I'd prefer to not see you snotting with tears like a damn girl on it later."
"...Okay, Dad."
You don't know it yet, but Roman will learn to laugh at these jokes soon enough.
You're quick to follow Roman out of the room, trying to grab his hand when you're both out of Mr. Logan's sight.
"Your daddy-"
"What were doing with him?"
Roman's voice, only slightly lower than yours sounds defensive. Even though he's the one asking you a question.
"I just...I saw the penny machine, I wanted quarters for it."
"Why did you ask him?"
You scrunch up your nose.
"...Do you have two quarters?"
Roman looks to the floor, scratching his eyebrow.
"No. But you don't ask him anything. Not for quarters. That's-"
Roman stops himself, you can see him stop his thoughts.
"Whatever. That'd be dumb if you weren't dumb."
"I'm not dumb!"
"That's just what I said, dummy."
You sniffle, putting the quarters in your dress pocket. You look to the hall past Roman, just glass and warm lights, but nothing like the sun.
You take Roman's hand, it only slighter bigger than yours.
"You're not a ghost, but it's not dumb." You begin to pull him. "...I'm 50 cents richer!"
"I know I'm not a ghost, not-dummy."
"Now you know I know that!"
You press the side of your face against his thin arm. Roman sniffles before squeezing your hand.
Shiv ews when you and Roman turn the corner for her to see.
"This place is a literal hell on earth, smells like old skin." Roman takes his hands out of his darked coat pockets. They flex. One pushes on your shoulder. "There is no way in fuck-fuck hell you thought it was a good idea to bring me here."
"I thought it'd be a good idea for you to experience something like this."
Roman looks around, he's scanning the thrift store.
"Okay, there is no way in fuck-fuck hell you thought it was a good idea to bring me here." He reluctantly feels a shirt on a rack you both pass buy. He shivers. "Give me your hand, gonna use your skin as sanitizer."
You smile, opening up your palm. Roman takes it, lips going down as he stares at all the used things you two slowly walk by.
"It's not so bad, Rom."
"No, no. It's bad. Where did you even find a place like this? Did you shop at places like these when you left us to do that volunteer month thing. Tried to blend in with the normies? Probably had to without your Waystar salary then."
You bump his shoulder as you run your free hand down your face. The worst thing is that he's right. With the life you'll always have, you would've never found something like a thrift store - it took being around people who did for something like a thrift store to actually make sense.
"Every time you talk about that period you act as if I didn't come back."
"Something in you didn't come back if you still have the used clothes and trinkets of dead people on your mind. And you wasted a month you could've use to bully the shit out of me, you chose poor strangers over me. You're a hurtful woman that gave me a hurtful memory I will choose to bring up how and whenever I please."
Like usual, Roman's casual and humorous in his tangent. His voice goes high and goofy on trinkets and almost serious in the semi false royal tone he laces in. But you look to the floor at the idea that leaving Waystar and him for that month did actually hurt him.
You bite back a smile when you remember how he tried to get you to stay saying he would've sacrificed his dignity and done a cartwheel in a public space if you did.
You know he never learned to cartwheel.
You remember the array of phone calls and texts that never led you to believe that, mentions of the distance between you two only jokes. Jokes that wouldn't be jokes if you didn't know Roman.
Except for one text in the middle of it all.
"Can you like please come back, this is fucking stupid."
You remember it being buzzed to you around five in the morning. Neither of you mentioned it in the call you had later in the evening. The daily call.
You remember coming back to your apartment, door already unlocked. The only thing changed was your pillow on your bed - vertical instead of diagonal.
And you shifted it back in place, like nothing changed. Nothing really can be.
"If you're not gonna respond, I'm gonna monologue about how surprising and unsurprising it is that normies have stores where they buy dead people things like serial killers do."
"I can hurt you by slamming your head into that-" You stop yourself, your head registering what you were about to say you were going to slam Roman's head into. "What the fuck is a penny machine doing in a thrift store?"
You pull Roman along too quickly.
"Fuck." You can hear his shoes scuff against the floor. "I'm gonna take a wild guess and say the only unusual thing to find in thrifts stores are...new clothes that don't have particles of skin on them? This is what I imagine an operating room to smell like."
"You smell like an operating room."
"Yeah, cause that makes any sense, you baby-slow down, Jesus."
You see Roman glance down to his hand, brows down when you it let go to feel the handle of the penny machine.
"Do you have quarters and a penny?"
"I'm not in need of the obsolete, so no."
"Ugh, asshole."
Roman puts his hands in his pockets.
"Yeah, um, why the fuck are you asking me for quarters cause you don't have any and calling me an asshole cause I don't have any?"
The only two quarters you have sit in the bottom drawer at your place, traveled time and all.
You step back, biting your lip.
"I probably shouldn't anyway, right? Probably should buy it before using it."
"Oh, principles. Very admirable - you could buy this fucking penny press with two quarters and a penny."
"I don't think they take card."
Roman jolts his neck with a head turn.
"Oh my god, literal hell."
Roman draws out the literal on his tongue. He takes out one hand and gestures you to place yours in his. You do, scratching the palm with your thumb.
"Come on, I'm saving you before I lose the rest of your brain. I'm not visiting you here."
"I'd visit you."
You scoff it out, feigning offense - not offended even if it is true.
"Yeah, I'm lying. Wow, you are getting more hurtful by the minute in here. The air here is making you think wrong things."
You try kicking the back of his knee. Roman mumbles with struggle as he tries to pull himself away from you, hand still squeezing yours.
"Can you stop, my god - lets just go to that food place we saw coming in and tell the waiter we're siblings while we make out."
"I told you that was only for your birthday."
"Yeah, and that's soon by the way."
"I'll kiss you all over right now if we can go to an ATM and get cash." You look back to the penny machine. "That'd be a good talking piece for house parties, right?"
Roman scoffs, lips pushing.
"I'm not gonna look at that thing every time I'm home. Don't you care about my eyes?"
...You realize Roman doesn't notice that he called your place home.
Your hand flexes.
"So...you don't want a kiss?"
Roman looks to your lips, scoff with a slight, slight head shake.
"Good try, baby. I know you're just gonna beat me into the floor. Dying where the dead people clothes go seems embarrassing."
"I'll probably just bite you." You pull on the shoulder of his coat. "I don't think you know I'm a biter."
"Oh my fuck, I don't know? You beat all of us in fucking - in fucking bitey. Even Shiv, don't play smarty."
...He's right.
Roman looks to where your shoulders meet as you make your way to the entrance.
"And don't give me credit and think I wouldn't enjoy biting, I'll give you credit and say you have enjoyable teeth. Or at least from what I remember as a kid." Roman sighs as he straightens himself out. "And I better not fucking turn to see you looking at me like this is making you uncomfortable and that I'm supposed to feel bad."
You feel your heart warm at how Roman looks, but soften at how he feels he has to defend himself.
You kiss his neck.
"I'll bite you when we get back to my place."
Roman moves like a shiver went down his spine.
"I'm holding you to your word. I'm expecting -" You can see Roman lose for words for half a second. "I expect baby vampire time tonight after you've treated me to this hell-hole."
You look to the floor, stopping yourself when you see a penny.
"Wait."
You bend down, idea to pick it up gone when you see it's landed on tails. You flip it over.
"Risking the chance of AIDs for a penny. Nice."
"More sass and no biting."
"Fuck you, I know you're lying."
"How do you know?"
"I just do. I'm basically inside of you all the time."
A person passes, head turning because Roman's not quiet.
"You wish."
Roman's neck jolts again, like he has a crick in it.
"...That's very inappropriate of you to say. I'm reporting your ass to human resources. See how you'll be talking to me then."
The door's bell rings as Roman opens it - wind hits you both.
"You'd never see me again."
And there, Roman scrunches his nose like you said something wrong. He looks to you only for a second.
"Don't fucking talk like that, that's not - what are you trying to do besides be unfunny? Make me feel like you've shoved a shotgun up my ass?"
You squeeze his hand, his words sound like he's joking. But when you think about Roman and Roman, you realize you don't know.
"I thought you knew when I was lying."
Roman lets go of your hand, lips pursing.
He goes to grab your face, hand curling back when he doesn't. Like he's making a choice on whether or not to do it. He urghs.
"This is why nobody but me likes you."
You think about trying to kick the back of his knee, but you don't.
"That's a lie."
You go to fix Roman's windblown hair, him breathing under your touch, not knowing that he's wishing it wasn't.