Loceit Is The Best

Bright and bold, their coordinating marks announced to the world they had found each other. Stretched over their hands and arms, up over their torsos, the flowers twisted around their necks and up to the edges of their jaws. Grown large enough to be visible even while they were completely clothed, their soul marks also told the world they hadn’t found each other until each had been nearly twenty-seven.

But they’d managed to find each other before the flowers had wound their way up and over their faces, a loud signal to the world to be on the lookout for anyone with matching blooms.

Janus’ parents then explained how the tiny blue daisies sprinkled on his own palms were just the early hints of his full soul marks. As he grew older, the marks would grow with him and bloom over his hands and arms until the day he’d found his soulmate. Then they would happily spend the rest of their lives together.

What his parents had been too tender-hearted to explain was what sometimes happened next. What it meant if the unthinkable happened, if his soulmate rejected him. Or if he never found them at all.

His soul marks would continue to grow, up over his face and then down again over every inch of his skin.

And then…

Then his flowers would fade from sight. They would not leave his body completely, but only disappear from view as they sank deep into his skin. And into his lungs.

Hanahaki was incredibly, blessedly uncommon. Whether through the Universe’s wisdom and kindness or through their own cultural taboo against quick rejection, unrequited soulmates were rare. So rare they were often deemed a myth, with all but the most credulous disbelieving they even existed.

Janus groaned and spat another deep blue petal into the wastebasket. He didn’t feel very legendary.

And his parents had been wrong. Soul marks don’t disappear with a rejection. No.

No, instead, the color of his soul marks leeched away. Slowly, reluctantly fading as though granting one’s soulmate time to change their mind, time to return and accept their match. And their love. The change had been so gradual, Janus had been able to spend years convincing himself he’d been mistaken. That he'd only imagined the day he’d finally met his soulmate.

That he’d only imagined the day he’d been rejected.

It had been cold, bitterly cold. Only a few days out from his thirty-first birthday, Janus’ soul marks had spread across his face, his entire left eye surrounded by a bright blue morning glory. Layered under scarves and gloves and hats, the winters made it difficult for the young to happen upon their soulmates. For a long time, even, Janus would endure the elements bare-handed, insisting he hardly felt the cold.

Frostbite cured him of that youthful hubris. Foolishly, he’d been relieved when the flowers bloomed across his face, bared for all to see. It meant his soulmate’s marks were likely just as as easy to be spotted, and he spent hours walking the streets, eyes darting from person to person, searching for a familiar blue and yellow bouquet.

Thousands of tiny, icy flakes had kicked up that morning on his way to work, biting his cheeks and nose.  Janus had slipped into a bus shelter for a reprieve. He nearly walked right into the the man already huddled in the corner.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, looking up from the boot clad feet on which he’d almost tromped.

And right into a pair of gorgeous chocolate brown eyes, the right surrounded by a golden yellow dahlia. A dahlia that perfectly matched the one on Janus’ forearm.

“It’s you!” Janus laughed, reaching automatically for the man.

But the man stepped back, a frown twisting the cornflower splashed across his cheek. Janus had one just like that, too, just under his ribs.

“We’re…” Janus smiled and inched closer. He gestured between them, pointing to the flowers on his own face. Surely he’d recognize them, just as Janus had recognized his. “We’re soulmates!”

Janus’ skin tingled, his soul marks growing warm. The other man must feel it. His parents had described that, too. It was one more way the Universe told you you’d met the one. A physical signal, with each soulmate’s marks warming as they took on their permanent appearance.

What Janus had thought would be their permanent appearance, at least.

“I—But I—” The man shook his head, blinking rapidly against a sudden gale. Several yards away, a city bus eased to a stop, the hissing brake drowning out the rest of his words. But there wasn’t much ambiguity in the firm shake of his head.

He stepped closer to the approaching bus.

“Wait! Please!” Voice cracking, Janus reached for him again, but the man—his soulmate—moved further away. Already feeling the fool, he fumbled through his pockets until he found a business card. He’d first had them printed while still in graduate school. He distributed the cards to everyone who noted his growing soul marks, enlisting their help in locating his soulmate, each with varying levels of cooperation.

The front of the card bore his name and a half dozen ways to contact him. After graduating, he paid to have his alma mater's email forwarded to his new address. He'd even hired a painter to reproduce tiny versions of the flowers on his arms and chest to help with identification. The back of each card was imprinted with those renditions, cheerful splashes of blue and yellow to mask the growing desperation. The desperation he only later discovered just how justified it had been.

He pressed the card into his soulmate’s hand. “Call me!” Still clinging to his sleeve even as his soulmate pulled away, he'd asked, “Please?”

Asked? Begged, really. Cheeks aflame from his changing soul marks, or with shame at his undignified pleas, Janus finally released him.

With one more glance at him over his shoulder, Janus’ soulmate shook his head. "I'm sorry," he muttered and looked away. His soulmate stepped onto the bus just as the doors closed and the bus roared off down the street.

~

Relying on muscle memory to keep his footing and pay his fare one-handed, Logan squeezed the tiny rectangle in his palm as the gears in his mind spun.

Soulmate? But… He stumbled into a seat, eyes figuratively stuck on the now-creased business card in his hand. One finger at a time, he worked off his winter gloves, refusing to part with the bit of card stock. His own soul marks—and his wedding ring—flashed in the snow-bright light spilling in through the bus window.

“Isn’t it romantic?” his wife would croon, holding their hands together, their still-growing soul marks reaching out into the air around them.

And he agreed. “We never stop yearning for each other, Love.”

Their similarly colored—though never completely identical—blooms seemed to agree. as well. A riot of every imaginable shade of blues and yellows, the marks grew brighter and larger all through their time together in high school and college. Their friends deemed them lucky, a dual bounty of perennially blooming soul marks and their soulmates at their sides.

After they’d wed, Logan determined the reports of soulmates identifying their matching flowers on each others’ bodies to be exaggerative. A mere collection of obsolete fairy tales intended to enforce an old-fashioned, 'marriage-first' morality.

Though now it was far less common to abstain from sex until after marriage, and it was certainly unusual to abstain from dating at all until one had found one’s soulmate, they had waited until their wedding night. He had been Olivia’s first date, her first kiss, her first, well… everything.

And his sweet Olive had been his first love. Doubtlessly his only love.

As Logan sat on the frigid bus, the raw, desperate hope in the man's hazel eyes filled his mind. As the strange soul mark warmth lingered on his own skin, doubt crept into Logan's heart.

Over the next six years, Logan’s doubt—but not his soul marks—continued to grow. Though Logan’s remained static, Olivia’s blooms spread, meandering up over both her eyelids and through her scalp. Her back and soon her legs were covered with brilliant, pale yellow primrose and impossibly vibrant blue roses.

One night, she cut her nightly shower short and stepped out from the bathroom. A haphazardly draped towel left her standing in a puddle of soapy water. “Lo?” she whispered, voice cracking. She raised her foot to show him a brand-new soul mark, cornflower blue petals painted over the sole. “Lo, please tell me you have a flower that looks like this.”

He did not.

Tears mingling with the water streaming from her hair, he’d held her until both their sobs quieted. Gently, he’d helped her rinse the soap from her hair and body and they’d laid together one last time.

Afterwards, they’d talked through the night, devising a plan for how he could help Olive find her true soulmate. There were internet boards now, massive crowd-sourced servers and international channels where one could post and search for matching marks.

It took less than three days to find him. And, with the mandatory waiting period, only three months to finalize their divorce papers.

Logan accompanied Olive to meet her soulmate, a kind, tall fellow named Mauricio.

“They do get warm!” she whispered to Logan after she met Mauricio’s eyes. Yellow primrose were scattered across his brow, precisely the same flowers she now touched below her own collarbone. Then she ran to him, to Mauricio, to her soulmate. Her real soulmate.

After pulling Olive close with one arm, Mauricio had shaken Logan’s hand.

“She takes her coffee sweet,” Logan murmured, a catch in his throat. “Just like she is.”

Mauricio smiled, then lifted Olive’s chin, his soulmate’s chin, and nodded. “I’ll remember that.”

Logan returned home to his tiny studio packed with more books than clothes and searched his journals and files. Finally, tucked between the pages of his entries for February, 2019, he found the the little scrap of card stock. He spent over an hour examining his skin, hunting for soul marks to match the flowers on the back of the card.

He found every one.

Finally, Logan picked up the phone and dialed.

~

The first time Janus had woken in the middle of the night, choking on blue and yellow blooms, he'd stopped trying to deny the reality of his situation. Pale and shaking as he washed bloody petals from his face and neck, he’d stared at the sallow, pale skin of his reflection.

His only solace was that his had parents died before they ever noticed the fading. Now, people he passed on the street simply averted their eyes. Away from him, away from the crackled outlines of what had once been beautiful soul marks stretched across his skin like scars.

Janus was living evidence of the quiet cruelty of soulmates. Evidence no-one wanted to see.

Shortly after that, he began to work from home and, without his extra long walking commutes, had more time to pour into growing his client base. He lost more than a few with his unwillingness, his unavailability to meet in person or even over video, but a few additional hours' work each day more than compensated for the loss. And after a few years, he was able to complete all of his filings online.

It was just as well. His coughing spells worsened by the day, soon interrupting even the shortest of oral arguments. Phone calls were the next to go and he’d begun to leave his phone turned off, forwarding all calls to voicemail, with a text-to-voice recording instructing them to email their enquiries instead.

Groceries and other household necessities had proven just as simple to handle without ever needing to leave his house. A healthy 50% tip guaranteed him a semi-regular rotation of drivers ready to drop his orders at the door, day or night. He never had to speak with—or be seen by—a soul.

So when the doorbell rang in the middle of a coughing fit, Janus ignored it. With his sleep continually interrupted by yet another bloom threatening to choke him, he’d become reliant on lists and schedulers to keep track of what he was doing on any given day. Or even what day it was. He couldn’t remember if he was expecting an order. Besides, it was just as likely some over-eager proselytizer. A delivery would be left at the door.

Anyone else could take their pamphlets and shove them up their—

A particularly thorny bloom cut off his breathing and his thought.

By the time the latest flower lay wilted and bloody in the center of his wastebasket, whoever had been at the door had given up.

Good riddance.

With the room darkening around him, Janus stumbled to his bed and collapsed across the covers. He’d fallen asleep before he could even kick off his slippers.

Dawn—or a streetlight—spilled into his room when he woke. Had been woken. He blinked, listening for what had dragged him from sleep.

BANG-BANG-BANG

“Mr. Woods! Mr. Woods? Are you in there?” a voice shouted from the other side of his front door.

“Hang on!” Janus pulled himself to his feet and stood with wobbling knees. “I’m coming, I’m—” He doubled over, coughing.

BANG-BANG-BANG

“Mr. Woods?” BANG-BANG-BANG “Mr. Woods?!? Mr. Woods, we’re coming in!”

Between his coughs, Janus could just make out the squawk of a police radio. He rose and leaned against the wall in the corridor outside his bedroom, ten paces and a hundred miles from the front door. “I’m—”

Something heavy boomed against the door and his apartment shook. The frame splintered on the second hit.

Wracked by another coughing fit, Janus dropped to his knees.

By the third boom, the front door slammed open. It bounced back against the wall, caught by a hand painted with flowers he once knew so well. Deep blues and yellows, the same flowers as on his chest and thighs, another on the side of his neck, all brighter than he’d seen in years.

“Janus!”

Above him stood a man. Dark hair and glasses, bright yellow petals surrounding his eye, achingly familiar. Face pinched with worry, he crouched beside him and offered his hands.

In the man's palm lay Janus’ old business card. He’d burned the last of them last year and choked on the smoke.

Janus stroked the card. Dented and worn, cracked with crease marks but made from the same heavy woven linen, the card was certainly his. He coughed again, and the card disappeared. The man—Janus squashed down the bit of himself that wanted to whisper soulmate—reached for him, rubbing his back and murmuring something Janus couldn’t understand.

“You—you kept it?” he finally gasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The man produced a cloth from an inner pocket and dabbed the soft cotton against Janus' face.

“I did, I—”

Battering ram tucked under his beefy arm, one of the cops who’d busted in his door interrupted. “Do you require an aid car, Mr. Woods?”

Janus ignored him. “You… you did this?” he asked the man, leaning more heavily on him than he should. He tried to sit up but couldn’t. Didn’t want to. Janus definitely didn’t want to think about how long it had been since someone had touched him at all.

“You wouldn’t answer your phone,” the man said.

The cop cleared his throat. “Mr. Sanders called for a wellness check on a 413. He was concerned his newly-found soulmate was… unwell.”

The man stroked the swirling honeysuckle scars along Janus' jaw and smiled. “I have these on my shoulder,” he murmured. The man's eyes were wet when he looked back at him.

“Mr. Woods?” the cop tried again.

“Yes, yes, I—” Clinging to the man’s shirt, Janus pulled himself fully upright. It was only then he noticed the yellow and blue covering his own hand. “They’re back!” he whispered, bracing himself for a fit that didn’t come. “It can’t…” He inhaled slowly. There was a bit of tightness and the itch of a cough at the back of his throat, but no obstruction. “It can’t be that easy.”

The man shook his head, that same damning gesture from all those years ago but this time… this time he smiled.

“Maybe it can be.”

The cop’s radio crackled to life, codes pouring out too quickly for Janus to begin to decipher. After a bit of back and forth, he nodded. “If you don’t need a trip to the hospital, Mr. Woods, we’re needed elsewhere.”

“No, I…” Without being asked, the man—his soulmate—shifted next to him and brought them both up to their feet. Janus took a tentative step closer to the cop. “You—” He stumbled and his soulmate was at his side, steadying him. He looked up into those same soft brown eyes and nodded. “You can go,” he said to the cops. “Sanders and I—”

“Logan,” the man said, smiling. “You should call me Logan.”

“Hmph. Maybe.” Janus dragged his mouth into a frown only for another smile to break out when he recognized the flower decorating Logan’s left ear. “You have some explaining to do, Mr. Sanders.”

And Roman? Roman and his husband had never expressed the tiniest of interest in adopting children.

For that matter, though, neither had Logan. And now? Now he found himself called to something he’d never before considered, reaching for something he’d never even thought he might want.

Logan didn’t know—he didn’t even want to have to think about—what he might do if Janus and Remus didn’t want this, too.

Janus recovered first. “You’re serious,” he murmured, eyes dancing in the low light. “I thought… I thought you didn’t like children. I mean…” He brushed back the hair that had fallen into Logan's eyes, his morning gel long since lost its efficacy. “I’ve watched you fight for children of all ages. Watched you defend them from crooked cops and lousy parents and… horrific abuse. But… " He shook his head, tightening his grip on both Logan’s and Remus’ hands, eyes wet and bright. “I never thought you hated children, just…”

“I…” Fear gripped Logan’s throat. Unable to read the emotions flitting across Janus’ face and just barely grappling with his own realization, he struggled to find his words. Remus sat quietly next to them, his unusual calm both a welcome balm and another question mark in Logan’s mind. They’d been together for nearly a decade and Logan had genuinely been convinced they’d already figured each other—and themselves—out. This was… This was new. 

He took another slow breath, holding their hands tight, an anchor in the uncertain storm in which he'd sailed them. But even in his sleep, Patton’s tenacious grip on his sleeve propelled him forward.

Honesty. Honesty was all he had, All they had. This, too, they would figure out. Together.

“I didn’t realize this… desire myself,” he said. “It just…” He looked over his shoulder, Patton’s face smooth and peaceful in sleep. “I… I feel it here,” he whispered, pressing their hands to his chest.

“I… I believe you,” Janus nodded then fell quiet, a faraway look in his eyes as he seemed to consider Logan’s words. His silence was unnerving, even as his steady grip and Logan’s own logic reminded him that it was hardly realistic that Janus would instantaneously leap up in complete agreement. Yes, of course, let's become parents right now!

Remus broke the silence, the twitch in his mustache their only clue he barely contained a stronger reaction. “Well, what about you, Jannie?”

“I’d never considered it,” he began slowly, slipping one hand from their shared grip to gently raise Logan’s chin. “And I don’t simply mean because we haven’t discussed the possibility of parenthood. Haven’t had cause to discuss it. I…” 

He stared down at their hands for a long moment, the glint of his and Remus’ rings a beacon. “None of us grew up with any sort of model for what a good father should be. Wha—” His voice cracked and Remus reached for him, nearly pulling him onto Logan’s lap. “What if I do something wrong again? Like I did with your coat?”

It had been a long time since Logan had heard Janus sound so small.

“Oh, Jan,” Logan whispered into his hair, relieved tears pricking his eyes. This was what gave Janus pause? Not a lack of desire to be parent. A fear of doing it wrong?

Moving carefully so as not to dislodge Patton’s hand from his arm, he helped Remus pull Janus between them and pivoted. All three could now see Patton sleep, hugging the stuffie Remus had bought him, Janus' yellow scarf twisted in his little hand. “I suppose you will need to invest in more scarves, then,” he said. 

Someone must have filled Remus in while he was brushing Patton’s teeth because he chuckled. “Don’t worry Jannie, we’re all gonna fuck up,” he said, pulling a wet laugh from him. “We’ll just fuck up in much better ways than our loser fathers did.”

“That can’t be where the bar is,” Janus shook his head, still smiling.

Soaking in the warmth of Janus and Remus close in his arms and the tiny hand still holding on to him, Logan smiled. “You of all people know it’s not.”

Remus dried one side of Janus’ face and Logan the other and they sat quietly tangled together on the floor for a long while before Logan suddenly looked up and caught Remus’ eyes. “Wait, you didn’t say what you thought about any of this. If… We all know it doesn’t really matter whose name is on the paperwork,” he held them both close. “We do this together or we don’t—”

“Are you kidding?” He grinned. “I thought I’d hafta wait another decade for you two to figure out you’d be great with kids.”

“What?” Logan looked up, eyes wide. Shaking his head, Janus chuckled as though he knew precisely what made Remus so certain of his assessment. Logan was unconvinced. “Re, we're not like you. While you have demonstrated a profound proclivity for caring for children, there is nothing in either of Janus’ nor my histories that would indicate a predilection for child rearing.”

“Aw come on, Lo Lo…” Grinning, he swept one arm over their office. The wall closest to them was covered with embossed certificates of appreciation for QLaw’s pro bono work with Seattle Children’s Society and the Juvenile Rights Defense League. Framed newspaper clippings about the marriage equality petition they’d so carefully crafted to pass judicial scrutiny along with dozens of pictures of smiling new adoptees lined the other. “You really can’t see it?” he whispered.

Logan looked around the office before nodding slowly. His whole world lay in this room. He smiled when a soft sleepy sigh from Patton added one more bit to his metaphorical pile of good things.

“Yes, I suppose you have made your case, Meus.”

~

As the evening wore on, the three of them—the four of them—remained close. Logan, Janus, and Remus talked through formal living arrangements and how they would finally have a use for the decadently empty half of their duplex. “Our procrastination on renovating appears to have become an asset for our future selves,” Logan murmured, one hand curled through Remus’ hair as Janus lounged over both their laps. “As a society we’ve made strides but—”

“But too many judges would look unfavorably on our true family composition,” Janus murmured, fatigue fuzzing his voice. “We’ll need to be careful.”  

Logan nodded, smiling as Remus sleepily stroked Janus’ hair. “I shall endeavor to reinforce my independent status in court.”

Janus’ brow crinkled as he reached for Logan’s other hand and pressed it to his lips. “Only for the show,” he whispered. “Only for the show.”

Humming his agreement, Remus drew Logan closer and tucked his head in the crook of his neck. He mumbled something, his full exhaustion finally slipping past his energetic mask as his eyes closed. 

Head heavy on Logan’s shoulder, it wasn't long before Remus drifted off to sleep. Though this has been his day off, he'd been up before dawn, glazing his latest piece in the basement studio. The morning would bring an early shift at the childcare center and Logan did not begrudge him his easy sleep.

Janus looked close to sleep as well, the lips pressed to his hand growing slack with each soft exhalation. “Good night, Lo,” he murmured and grew still.

Though also more tired than he’d felt in a long time, Logan’s thoughts raced, a quick succession of logic trees and what-ifs fueling his mind even as his body rested in the comfort of his loves.

He had served as a GAL or prosecuting attorney in enough foster cases to know what came next. He would need to apply and be formally certified as an emergency placement, and then would need a full home study to be approved as a long term foster parent for Patton. 

Holding Remus and Janus close, he pushed away the prickle of worry he’d never quite been able to shake since he’d first come out. Well, since he’d first realized he… had something to come out about. It was gradually getting better and they lived in a progressive city. In even the six short years he’d practiced law, he’d watched most judges drift from a strict, heteronormative view of family into one that put the child’s needs above all other considerations, political or otherwise.

Wrapped in the quiet, steady breathing of his loves and his… charge? His ward? Logan would’ve laughed at his own thoughts if it wouldn’t risk waking them all. Was he Batman now in his fantasies?

After a long, long while, Patton’s sudden movement and a sharp gasp behind him pulled him from his mental strategizing. Logan looked over his shoulder to find Patton sitting up, stuffed owl and scarf held tight. Too-wide eyes darted around the room until they landed on the three of them and the little boy smiled.

“You’re safe, Patton,” he whispered. “There’s—” Logan squinted at his watch. Was it really nearly six? “Well, there’s a bit more time to sleep if you’re still tired,” he said. “Though Remus is likely to wake soon, as well.”

Chewing his lip, Patton looked longingly at the tangled pile on the floor. Logan sat mostly as he had to read the bedtime story, back leaning against the front of the sofa. Remus was tucked under Logan’s far arm, legs hooked over his. Janus had made a pillow of their thighs, laying perpendicularly across them and the plush carpet underneath.

A sudden grin blooming over his face, Patton wiggled out from under the covers and landing with a soft thud on Logan’s other side. Still holding his treasures, he sat on the floor next to Logan, looking up at him, eyes a question.

“That is quite alright,” he said, smiling as Patton snuggled close. “More than alright.”

A few short minutes later, Remus’ alarm sounded, just as Patton had begun to fidget. Janus woke with a low groan, pouting slightly when Remus slid away to turn off his phone. It wasn’t until Patton giggled at his still-sleepy expression that he opened his eyes.

“'Morning. Aren’t you up with the—” He frowned at the still-dark windows, his voice low and rough with sleep. “Well, with what passes for dawn this time of year.”

Patton grinned back at him, brow pinched. They all turned at Remus’ lion-like yawn. “Fun sleepover, but I need to grab a shower back home before I head in.” He made a show of sniffing under his own arm and gagged, eliciting a peal of laughter from Patton who immediately copied him. “See? He knows what I'm talkin' about,” he laughed, leaning over to kiss Janus’ temple.

“Are you off at three today?” Logan asked, eyes falling shut and leaning in when Remus briefly cupped his cheek.

“Yep.” A worried shadow passed over his eyes before he grinned again. “I’ll check in and see where you all are, yeah?”

Logan swallowed hard at the double meaning but nodded. “Have a good day at work,” he said, voice not as steady as he would have liked.

Janus silently squeezed his hand as Remus reached over to ruffle Patton’s hair. “I’ll see you later, Bud, alright?”

Lips drawn into a straight line, Patton blinked up at him with big eyes before nodding.

“I’ll let you out,” Janus said, pushing up to his feet with a pained grunt. “We’re getting too old to sleep on the floor.”

Remus just laughed, “Maybe you two are, old man.” With one more wave at Patton and Logan, he followed Janus down the hall and through reception.

Heart a little lighter, Logan smiled down at Patton. “Bathroom and teeth first, then let’s fold up your blanket, shall we?”

~

As the sun rose and the rest of the QLaw staff trickled in, those who’d seen Patton the day before expressed no surprise at his continued presence. Two attorneys, in fact, were pleased he was still there as one had brought a backpack and three new picture books; another carried a nephew’s newly outgrown winter coat. Not that it was all that unusual to see a foster child in the office, even that early in the day. 

What was unusual was Logan’s behavior. Gazes lingered on their ordinarily stoic and fastidious co-attorney-in-charge, unbothered by the marker scribbled on his arms, the heavy shadows under his eyes, or his rumpled tie and shirt. Instead, Logan read animatedly to the little boy in his office, silly voices and all. A glance from Janus was all it took for them to keep private counsel for now.

Shortly after a conference room breakfast of bagels and fruit, reception buzzed to tell them Patton’s social worker, Grace, had returned to the office.

Forcing a smile to remain on his face, Logan nodded and stayed with Patton as Janus left to brief her on Logan’s intentions. Janus would serve as Patton’s GAL in court and, as the need arose, they’d arranged for a colleague at the UW Law Clinic to represent Logan.

Only if needed.

Logan and Patton were on their second reading of A Color of His Own when Grace knocked on his open office door, Janus positioned in the hall behind her. He carried Patton’s new-to-him coat and backback, along with the boots Remus had picked up with the pajamas. He’d carved a small smile on his face, the same he’d wear on his worst days at court.

“Hello, Patton,” Grace said, addressing Logan more than the child. “It’s time to go now.”

Patton looked up at Logan and, when he closed the book and began to stand, wrapped tiny arms around his neck, moving with him off the sofa. Logan steadied him, retrieving his dropped owl and scarf. Keeping on arm circled over Logan’s shoulders, Patton gripped the stuffie and scarf close to his face. He peeked out at Grace from behind them, eyes wide.

“Mr. Sand—”

“Logan,” he corrected quietly.

“Mr. Logan’s not coming with us today, Patton,” she continued, stepping closer and opening her arms. “You have a check-up and then we’re going to talk to a—”

The little boy was already shaking his head, fingers digging into Logan’s shoulder. He locked his legs around Logan’s waist, a high whine pushing up from the back of his throat.

Logan breathed deeply and slowly nodded his head as moved closer so she could take him. “Ms Grace will take good care of you and I’ll see you—”

Openly crying now, Patton continued to shake his head, fighting to stay in Logan’s arms with as much vehemence as he’d fought his hold less than twenty-four hours ago in the courthouse. Fists flailing, he kicked his feet, striking both Logan and Grace.

“Patton, this is no way to behave!” she said, reaching for him with one hand and fending off his blows with the other.

“No no no no no no!” he screamed, whacking her with the stuffie. Logan’s cotton shirt was no match for his grip, threads popping as he push-pulled away from her.

“Patton,” Logan began, stopping when his voice shook. He closed his eyed for a long moment, Patton’s cries cutting through his chest. His arms trembled with the effort to not simply hold him closer until he was soothed.

They had to do this the right way.

“Patton, it is time to go with Ms. Grace now.” he said, looking back unflinchingly into big blue eyes, wide with terror. “You are safe, and I will see you soon,” he pledged, hesitating to make such a large promise, but unable to truly stop himself. Would he? Would he see him soon? 

As Patton clawed at his shoulder and his face in a desperate attempt to remain in his arms, Logan continued to nod. “This is just for a while,” he said, promising both the child and himself. “You’re safe,” he said again, to himself just as much as to Patton. "You're safe."

Patton kicked him again and Grace used that as her chance to scoop him up into arms and flee from the office. Patton howled as they left, his voice fading as she hurried down the hall past the small crowd of lawyers and other staff drawn by the commotion.

His screams cut out as the main door closed behind them.

Janus pressed Patton’s belongings into the closest paralegal’s hands. “Go with them and stay with her. Keep me notified if anything changes. I will join you at the courthouse shortly.”

“But—” she argued.

“Go now," he insisted. "Please.”

Casting a quick glance at Logan in the office, she nodded and raced to follow Grace and Patton out of the offices and into the elevator.

“No calls.” Janus said to the receptionist who’d stood watching from the other end of the hall. "Only for this case, understood?"

“Of course,” the receptionist nodded and returned to his post. Janus didn’t address the remaining onlookers and simply closed the door behind him.

Logan stood alone in the center of their office, shaking and staring at the floor. Tiny red streaks striped his skin and his shirt was torn, partially untucked. It took a moment for Janus to find his glasses under a side table where they'd been knocked off and kicked away—unbroken—in the struggle.

Tangled in a heap near Logan's feet lay Patton’s owl and borrowed scarf. Logan stooped to pick them up. “Patton will miss these,” he said, voice breaking. He started to stand but dropped to his knees instead. “I should…” He looked up at Janus, eyes burning.

“You can give them to him when we see him next,” Janus said, setting down his folded glasses on the table and kneeling with him.

Head bowed, Logan brought the little bundle close to his heart. His shoulders shook as the first tears fell, wetting the yellow silk. “Your scarf… “ he said, more sob than speech.

"There's nothing to be done, I'll simply have to walk through it."

"There's certainly not nothing to be done, as you say." Logan said and Janus worked to bite back a smile, "Would you like me to call a ride?”

“Oh, no need to bother,” Janus said, waving his hand flippantly, “It’s a short walk.”

He saw Logan's frown deepen out of the corner of his eye. “I'll walk with you then,” he said and Janus let the delighted grin spread across his face.

“Well if you'd be so willing, I certainly wouldn't be opposed.”

Their walk was quiet but it was of peaceful silence, Janus took the opportunity to simply enjoy the other’s company even after their coffee date had ended. Logan was quite the gentleman, always making sure to keep the umbrella between them more so over Janus’ head so that he did not get a drop on him.

They slowed to a stop in front of Janus’ apartment complex, and Janus, ever the gentleman himself, made an offer. “Would you like to come in? At least until the rain lightens?”

Logan was quiet for a moment, contemplative. “You didn’t bring an umbrella on purpose.” He said, suddenly.

Janus only smiled, “Is that a no?”

Logan shook his head, now giving a small smile himself, “Hardly.” 

Janus turned to head to the building, not doubting for a moment that the umbrella would stay over his head as Logan followed him in.

~~~

tag @flowercrownsandtrauma hiya :3

“Alright, any last-minute bets?” Roman asked around, pulling out a small notebook. “Patton?”

“I’m sticking with it, kiddo!”

“Sure. Emile?”

“Same!”

“We’d have said something if we changed our minds, princey. Get moving,” Virgil complained, shoving him forward.

“Alright then we have Remy and Virgil on them moving away and Patton, Emile and me on wedding announcement.”

“Yeah, and the suspension is killing me babes, so let’s go out,” Remy called, already halfway through the door.

Out in the garden they found enough chairs for each of them in a half circle and in the middle stood Remus, grinning at them.

“There you are! Took your sweet time too! Sit down before the grooms manage to arrive before you.”

“Wait, grooms?!” Patton squealed. “They’re getting married right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You can’t be serious,” Remy balked.

“What did you think this trip was for, boo?” Remus laughed. It was probably what everyone should have expected to happen, in his opinion, but they all still acted surprised. They were all staring at him with wide eyes.

Wait.

“Did you really not think this might happen?”

“No!” Roman shouted. “Why would we? Logan and Janus aren’t really the type to—” He cut himself off, thinking for a moment. “Well, Janus would but I didn’t think Logan would go along with it! I thought this is like a bachelor party or something and they were going to tell us when the wedding is going to be, not that this is the wedding! I’m not dressed for this!”

“Oh, Logie was quite happy doing it like this, you know how he is about big parties. This intimate thing with just his closest friends is his Crofters jam.” Despite his shock, Patton couldn’t help but laugh at the horrible pun. “And Jay was so hoping you’d freak out over the lack of proper wardrobe, so mission accomplished! Now sit down!”

“I demand you let me change!” Roman cried but Virgil just grabbed his arm and dragged him to the chairs.

“Let it go, Ro. If this is what the grooms want, then just go along with it.”

Roman grumbled but let himself be seated, Virgil plopping into the seat next to him. On his other side Remy took his place, then Patton and lastly Emile was about to sit down but he stopped in the last moment, blinking confused.

“What about you, Remus?”

“What about me, Cartoon Crazy?”

“Where are you going to sit? There are no more chairs?”

“I don’t need to sit! I’m officiating!”

“Oh heaven, this is a disaster,” Roman groaned.

“Those aren’t nice things to say at someone’s wedding, Roman,” a voice said behind them, and they all turned around to see Logan and Janus had arrived. Both were wearing neatly pressed suits, Janus’ black and gold and Logan’s dark blue and silver.

“Damn!” Remy whistled. “You both are looking fine!”

“Thank you, Remy,” Logan smiled.

“See, one person knows how to behave,” Janus smirked at Roman who pouted.

“You don’t even tell us we’re going to be attending your wedding and you made Remus your officiant? How can you expect me not to comment?”

“By expecting that you can control your tongue for once, Roman. But it seems that was too much to ask.”

“Dear, can you please wait to further antagonize our guest until after the ceremony?” Logan asked, squeezing Janus’ arm that was interlocked with his. “I would like to marry you in the next few minutes.”

“I would complain if that wasn’t so romantic,” Roman huffed and his brother cackled.

“Come up here then, love birds! The sooner we’re done, the sooner you can get to smooching.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows at them and Janus sighed.

“I really shouldn’t have given into his demands.”

“I’m sure it will be fine, love. At least he will be quick about it,” Logan reassured him as they moved around the chairs to join Remus in the middle of their little ceremony.

“True. And I can’t wait to be able to say yes.”

Soft music played from Remus’ phone in one corner of the room, one of Beethoven’s more subdued pieces. Remus had also made adjustments to the room’s ordinarily bright lighting. The overhead lamps were off and shades drawn down over the tall windows facing street lights. The room was far from completely dark, though. Muted light spilled out from underneath each of their desks and from under the small pull-out couch where Remus had apparently wedged their desk lamps.

He hadn’t opened the sofa bed and instead had constructed a nest for Patton on top of the plush cushioned seats, sheets tucked in and a fluffy blanket imprinted with SpiderMan swinging between buildings spread over the top. A small stuffed owl with big round eyeglasses and what might pass for a necktie sat next to the pillow.

Patton looked up and waited for Logan's nod, then ran to the bed and hugged the stuffie to his chest. His happy hum and the brilliant smile pulling up his cheeks brought a welcome warmth to Logan’s chest and he smiled at Remus. “Where did you find that?” he whispered. 

Turning to wave at Janus as he rejoined the discussion in the conference room, Remus grinned and bumped Logan’s shoulder. “Unadulterated luck. It was by the checkstands on clearance. Think it was supposed to be for graduation or some sh—thing,” he quickly censored. Head tilted, he watched Patton climb up onto the couch. “Can’t deny the resemblance,” he teased, looking at Logan and adjusting imaginary eyeglasses.

“I suppose not,” he chuckled, then crouched next to the sofa, smiling at the drowsy toddler. “You look quite tired, Patton. You should rest for the night. We will be right across the hall if you need anything.”

Patton frowned at him, one tiny hand darting out to grab his sleeve as he shook his head, curls bouncing.

Remus laughed good naturedly and squeezed Logan’s shoulder. “You didn’t actually think that was going to work, did you?” He had one more magic trick to pull from the red Target bab and, with a flourish, he pressed a large picture book into Logan’s hands.

The little boy’s eyes were immediately drawn to the colorful picture on the cover. The riot of clashing colors that somehow still fit each other, reminding Logan of the ‘tattoos’ Patton had left on his arms. He’d temporarily rolled down his sleeves before helping Patton brush his teeth, protecting the washable ‘art,' and even now they seemed to glow in the half-lit room.

“Try reading him that,” Remus murmured to Logan before bowing his head at Patton. “G’night, Bud. See ya in the morning.” 

Patton waved at Remus with the stuffed owl’s wing before turning back to Logan with wide eyes.

Chuckling, Logan nodded and settled himself on the floor with the book, back pressed to the side of the couch and holding it up so they could both see the words and pictures. “‘A House for Hermit Crab,’” he read aloud, setting aside his concern at the oversimplified personification of the little sea creature. Not every book meant for a young audience needed to be perfectly scientifically accurate, even one of his favorite book series when he was a child had included species inaccuracies in the differences between frogs and toads. 

He continued reading and was immediately impressed with the more scientific explanation on the inside cover. “‘Hermit Crabs live on the ocean floor. Their skin is hard, except for the abdomen,’” Logan patted his own belly, smiling when Patton copied him with a giggle. “‘Which is soft. To protect this soft spot, the hermit crab borrows a shell…’”

The little boy was transfixed, curled on his side and staring at the pictures as he listened to Logan’s slow, low reading voice. Nodding, Logan turned the page and paused, looking up to see Remus had been watching him read from the hallway. He winked and gave him one more wave before joining Janus and the social workers in the other room.

Logan swallowed, steadying his voice before he spoke the next words aloud. “‘“Time to move,” said Hermit Crab one day in January. “I’ve grown too big for this little shell.”’” He glanced at Patton, whose big eyes had grown even wider. With Janus’ scarf and the stuffed owl hugged to his chest, he tangled his fingers in Logan’s sleeve, keeping him close. Logan smiled and went on with the story. “‘He had felt safe and snug in his shell. But now it was too snug…’”

Together, they followed the little hermit crab through his journey of finding a new home, gathering together new friends to help keep safe and comfortable in his shell. As the story progressed and the hermit crab became more comfortable with his new home, Patton’s eyelids grew heavier, each blink a little slower than the last. Until finally, his eyes slipped shut when the hermit crab joyfully declared his new home was perfect.

When it became clear the little boy was asleep, Logan read ahead silently, the story's bittersweet ending about the impermanence of even good things tightening his throat as he quietly closed the book and set it on the end table next to the sofa.

“Gets ya right here, huh?” Remus whispered from the doorway, tapping his own sternum.

Clearing his throat, Logan nodded and tried to blink away the heat growing behind his eyes. “Indeed,” he whispered back and patted the floor next to him. Patton’s grip on his shirt had barely loosened and, if asked, he would explain he intended to wait until the child was more deeply asleep before attempting to extricate himself. 

If Logan were to be completely honest, though, he’d have to admit that wasn’t the only thing keeping him at Patton's side.

“A remarkable attention span for a toddler,” he said once Remus had sat beside him. “Not at all what I would expect from one so young.”

“It’s not,” Remus agreed. He took a deep breath and paused before speaking again. “Y’know… I don’t think he’s a toddler, Lo. He’s fully potty trained and he’s already gotten fillings on his second molars,” he explain, voice low. “Did you see when we brushed his teeth?” 

Logan frowned, recalling the silver at the back of his mouth. “I… Well, yes. Frankly I assumed it was the result of parental neglect. Poor hygiene.” He hugged his knees to his chest, the memory of his own hours in dentists’ chairs tinting his thoughts.

Nodding, Remus leaned to his side until their heads rested against each other’s. “Yeah, it’s pretty fucked up for a kid his age to already have cavities. But those back teeth don’t come in until they’re at least two. I’d…” Remus shrugged and looked up over the top of Logan’s head, watching Patton sleep. “You saw the way he holds a marker? And his speech? He’s closer to four, I think.”

“Four years old? He’s…” Logan swallowed against the lump in his throat. The pajama set Remus had purchased was sized for an 18-month old toddler. “But he’s so small.”

“He is.” They both looked up at Janus’ silhouette in the doorway and Logan beckoned him in. Janus slid down onto the floor next to him, casually letting their thighs touch. The closeness was a comfort and, sandwiched between the two of them, Logan leaned in. "Grace will be back in the morning and Norman figured we had things covered well enough here. They're both gone."

All three relaxed for a moment, absorbing a bit of stolen time where they didn't need to be careful. After a while, though, Janus sighed. “I’m afraid Re’s correct. About his age." He stroked his cheek when Logan turned to him, shock stealing his voice. "I found a scan of his birth certificate at the back of his initial removal paperwork. He was born in 200 8.” He sighed again, turning with him to look at the toddler-sized child curled up behind them. “Patton is three and half years old.”

“Of course,” Logan muttered under his breath. His usual pleasure at learning something new crackled and ached in his chest. “Failure to thrive?” He didn't really need to ask.

Janus nodded. 

Logan’s hands fell to his lap, an odd emptiness dragging down his arms. His stomach suddenly dropped, a cold block of lead at his next realization. “How long has this poor child been in foster care? A contested TPR takes years.”

Letting out a slow breath, Janus hung his head and covered Logan’s hand with his own. “He was first removed at three months when his mother entered rehab as part of a plea bargain.”

“Fuck,” Remus swore, adam’s apple bobbing.

With his other hand, Logan threaded their fingers together. “Indeed,” he said again, shaky. 

“He was in and out of kinship care for the next two years. Maternal grandparents.” Patton shifted in his sleep and Janus smiled when he noticed the little boy had hugged the yellow scarf close. “They declined to care for him further.”

“He’s their grandchild,” Logan frowned, struggling to keep his voice down.

Janus looked like he’d eaten something rancid. “And I quote, ‘Kelly’s made her bed, she needs to lie in it.’”

Logan scoffed and shook his head. “And where’s his father in all this?”

“Some putz out of state,” Janus sneered. “Demanded a paternity test until they told him he’d have to pay for it himself. Signed away any rights faster than the social worker for the first removal could hang up the phone.”

The hushed cry at the back of Logan’s mind grew louder and he drew each of their hands close to his chest. “I can't be Patton’s GAL,” he announced, a radical idea growing in strength even as he struggled to find the words to explain his desire. “No judge would allow a GAL to serve dual roles.”

Mouth slack, Janus narrowed his eyes. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”

He nodded slowly and Janus turned to look at Patton.

Remus watched them both, eyebrows pinched in confusion. “Hey, hot nerds, fill me in,” he said, scooting closer, eyes bouncing between each of them. “What do you mean, ‘dual roles?’”

Logan took a deep breath and smiled shakily at each of them. “I mean… Legally I cannot be both his GAL… and his foster parent.”

All four of them looked up to see a man with Roman’s face but slightly off standing in front of their booth. He had the same eyes and features as Roman but sported a mustache and a white streak in his hair. And if that didn’t set him apart from his brother enough, the clothes the man was wearing were probably the opposite of Roman too with ripped jeans, a dark crop top and combat boots.

So that must be the infamous twin, Janus thought as he looked the other up and down once more. What was his name again?

“Remus?!” Roman gaped. “What are you doing here?”

“Getting drunk! And looking for someone to take back to the hotel with me.” He winked suggestively at Logan who simply raised an eyebrow.

“Not what I meant and you know it,” Roman almost growled, clearly annoyed. “What are you doing here in town, I thought you were still in Europe.”

“Yeah, some stuff happened and I got back early. I was gonna surprise you at your place tomorrow but this is even better! Nice to finally meet you in person, Patty Daddy.”

“Yes, nice to see you, Remus,” Patton laughed uncomfortably. Remus paused.

“Nickname too much?”

“Obviously,” Roman sighed.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll behave. So introduce me to these fine gentlemen.” Remus grabbed a chair from nearby and plopped down in front of the booth, grinning at Logan and Janus.

“Logan Croft,” Logan spoke up before Roman could interject, holding his hand out for Remus to shake. “And this is my partner Janus Dean. We’re longtime friends of Patton’s.”

“Pleasure,” Janus said simply, nodding instead of offering his own hand. Remus laughed and gripped Logan’s hand tight.

“Remus Kingsleigh, at your service.” Instead of shaking Logan’s hand however, he brought it up to his mouth and licked it. “You taste delightful,” he added with a grin.

“Remus!” Roman scolded, pulling him away from Logan who didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He simply pulled his hand back, got a bottle of disinfectant out of his bag and rubbed it into the skin.

“Well then, Remus, how long are you staying?” Patton asked, still looking incredibly uncomfortable and desperate to change the topic. Janus wasn’t surprised. While Patton was very tolerant of other people’s behaviors and believes, he was rather strictly catholic himself and didn’t want pre-marital sex, which Roman was very much okay with. But Patton also was very uncomfortable with the topic of sex in general, so Janus could imagine that Remus, who as far as he knew had made sex and innuendos kind of a big part of his personality, put him on edge.

He was in luck however since Remus was open to the change in topic and started detailing his plans and told stories about his travels which Logan especially appreciated. For the next hour or so, pleasant conversation flowed between the five of them until Patton got tired and asked Roman to drive him home. The two paid off their part of the tab and left.

“Well then, that just leaves us three,” Remus grinned as he slid into the seats his brother and Patton had just vacated. “Are you open to have some fun?”

“You do understand that we’re in a committed relationship, right?” Janus asked, eyebrows raised and trying to inject boredom into his voice. Remus was entertaining, sure, but not all that appealing to him.

“So what? I can take you both.” The grin on Remus’ face was without a hint of shame. Refreshing, Janus could admit but he still wasn’t interested.

“Thank you for the offer, Remus, but we are not currently looking for a third,” Logan answered. Diplomatic as always.

“Currently? So that might change?” Remus was leaning over the table now, his eyes wide and wild.

“Sure. Ask another ten times and we’ll probably say yes!” Janus huffed.

“Promise?”

“No.”

“Boo, you’re no fun.”

“Then maybe you should seek your thrill elsewhere.”

“How about a bet?” Remus suddenly offered, sitting back in his seat, still grinning.

“I believe we have been quite clear—” Logan started but Remus interrupted him.

“A game of darts for your phone numbers. And a week to change your minds if I win.”

Janus rolled his eyes again, but to his surprise Logan leaned forward, studying Remus’ face intensely.

“You seem quite sure of your skill.”

“I am.”

“Very well. I accept.”

Janus sighed but didn’t argue. Truly, he should have seen it coming. Darts was the only sport Logan was interested in – well, besides chess but in terms of physical sports it was the only one. It relied on dexterity and math, both of which Logan appreciated greatly.

Logan and Remus agreed on a set of rules and Janus was pulled along to judge.

“Don’t you think I’m going to be biased?”

“No.”

“Nah.”

Janus had expected that answer from his partner but not Remus.

“Lolo here seems to have a bit of a stick up his ass about rules. I imagine he’d be pretty cross with you if you didn’t play fair.”

“You… aren’t wrong,” Janus conceded, surprised by his insight. Maybe Remus wasn’t as aloof and uncaring as he first seemed.

They got some darts from the barkeeper and luckily one of the three boards was still available. They played best of three with Logan easily winning the first one, Remus barely clutching out the second and now they were both in finishing range for the third.

Logan was up first. He hit the triple he needed without difficulty and just slightly overshot the double with the second and took aim with the third. Before he could throw though, Remus stepped up to him and whispered something in his ear that Janus couldn’t hear. Logan glanced away from the board and at Remus for a moment but didn’t answer. Remus laughed and stepped back, letting him finish his turn.

Janus watched as Logan took two deep breaths before aiming again.

He threw the dart.

And it bounced off the second dart that had already missed the target, falling to the floor.

“My turn!” Remus giggled, delighted, as Logan gathered his darts.

“Will you aim for the double 14 and then tops?” Logan asked. If Janus remembered correctly, ‘tops’ referred to the double 20 on the top of the board.

“Nah, where’s the fun in that?” Remus grinned and threw his first dart. It landed square in the 18 field. Leaving Remus with a rest score of 50. He needed the bull’s eye to win.

That truly fit with his character.

If he was just slightly off, the math wouldn’t work out anymore and he might not be able to use his last dart to finish.

Despite the high stakes, kinda, Remus looked very relaxed to Janus. As if he had unending confidence in his skills.

He took aim.

He threw.

He hit.

The dart landed in the bull’s eye with a dull thud.

“Congratulations,” Logan said, genuinely. “That were some impressive games.”

“Aw, thanks Logie! Now pay up!”

“I was under the impression that you wanted our phone numbers not our money.”

“That’s what he means, Lo,” Janus explained as he stepped up to the two. “Here.” He held a business card out to Remus that had his name and law firm printed on it. He’d also added Logan’s number on the other side. “Your one week starts now.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Janny! And I promise I won’t send you dick pics immediately!” With that, Remus waved to them and left, handing the darts back to the bartender on his way out.

“We really sold our souls to the devil here, haven’t we?” Janus commented dryly as they watched the door close behind him.

“Well, I always thought the devil had some fair points,” Logan shrugged, a small smile on his lips.

Janus had an inkling that his life was about to get a lot more chaotic.

The coat was a little over-sized—”You’re swimming in that thing,” Remus had complained with a laugh when he’d purchased it. “We can’t hardly see your ass in it!”—but today that was a benefit.

With a small adjustment, he was able to close one side around Patton, banishing the cold. Patton’s little arm slid beneath the coat and he gripped the back of Logan’s suit, smiling. “Is that better?” he asked as Janus tucked the lapel under the toddler’s chin.

Shoulders scrunched and beginning to cry, he shook his head, drawing away from the coat. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Janus said, dropping his hands. “Too close?” he asked.

He kicked at the air—stockinged feet twice striking Logan’s legs—and stared at the coat, simultaneously hiding from it and pushing himself deeper into its warmth.

Janus removed one of his own gloves and touched the coat. “Oh!” he said again. “Too scratchy!” he said and Patton stilled, eyes wide.

“It hurts,” he whispered.

Pulling a bright yellow scarf from under his own coat, Janus offered it to Patton to touch. “Would you like to use this?”

Moving carefully, Patton stroked and pinched the smooth, heavy silk, then smiled. He nodded, watching Janus’ hands as he tucked the scarf between the coat and his neck and shoulders. Janus left the excess close to his hand and Patton grasped it, twisting the material between his fingers.

“Is that acceptable?” Logan asked both of them. Janus didn’t even let him borrow his favorite scarf, let alone Remus who had a track record for spilling ceramic glaze on every textile he got within five feet of.

He'd certainly never lend it to a child.

Patton didn’t answer with words, merely curled closer to Logan, brushing the scarf against his cheek.

“I believe it is more than acceptable,” Janus smiled and pointed north before nodding at Grace, who’d watched the exchange in a stunned fascination. “Our office is two blocks this way.”

“I…” Hurrying to match his pace, she finally found her words. Logan walked behind them down the narrow street. “I didn’t know he could communicate. His file…” She shook her head, looking down at the thick redwell clutched to her chest. “It says he’s pre-verbal. Developmentally delayed.” Glancing over her shoulder, she caught Patton staring right at her and she lowered her voice but not enough that Logan couldn’t hear. “Significantly.”

Janus raised an eyebrow before winking at Patton and Logan as they waited to cross at the corner. “Perhaps no-one was listening to him.”

Janus called Remus on their way, asking him to meet them at their offices with food and whatever weather appropriate clothes he could find for the boy at the Target on his way. “Size?” he said, looking to Grace.

She shrugged helplessly. 

“Ah…” Janus looked closely at the little boy curled against Logan’s chest as they waited for the walk signal. “He’s as tall from shoulder to hip as Lo’s tie,” he said at last. “And skinny.” Remus’ response pulled a low laugh from the back of Janus’ throat and Logan couldn’t help but smile. He was gratified Janus had thought to have Remus join them. Nothing really felt complete without him there. 

“See you soon, love,” Janus said. He paused, glancing at Logan with a smile. “We do, too,” he said, then ended the call. Addressing Grace, he nodded as the light changed. “My husband will meet us shortly.”

~

They waited less than an hour for Remus to appear, tromping into the conference room where Patton had some room to move around without disrupting anyone still working in the offices after hours. A happy whistle—some sort of show tune, if Logan had to guess—announced his presence and Patton looked up just in time to see his mop of bright green hair peering around the corner into the room. "Found you! Reception's gone home already."

"We had every faith in your navigational abilities," Logan chuckled, rubbing Patton's back when he climbed into the chair beside him, peering up at Remus with wide eyes.

Grace looked up from her paperwork. "You got here must faster than I thought you would."

Remus laughed. “I’m just that fast.”

“We all know that,” Janus deadpanned quietly and Logan cleared his throat to disguise his laugh.

“Well I heard there was a hungry little caterpillar here,” Remus grinned, brandishing two giant bags from the Veggie Grill. He set them down the bags on the conference table and began to unpack. The room was soon filled with the rich aroma of french fries and melted cheese, the sweet-sticky scent of their special seared zucchini, and toasted garlic bread. “Wanna come see what looks good to you?” he asked Patton.

Legs criss-crossed in his chair, Patton eyed the packages then looked up at Remus towering over the table.

Head tilted, Remus peered back at him then his smile suddenly grew. Moving to the opposite side of the long table, he took a seat and folded his own lanky frame in the seat, mimicking Patton’s pose. “Watch this,” he said and, holding the edge of the table, pulled himself along the length of it until he was closer to the food.

Giggling, Patton copied him until he was in reach of a stack of wrapped sandwiches.

“Hmm, those do look good,” Remus said, picking one up when Patton selected one. “How ‘bout a drink?”

Remus had brought a half-dozen different kinds of juice boxes and milks. Patton assessed them, touching each and setting them aside before two remained before him. He stared at them both for a long moment when Remus spoke again. “You could have both, if you want.”

Eyes narrowed, Patton watched his expression for a long moment. He reminded Logan of Janus staring down a witness he knew to be lying. Without breaking his gaze, Patton pulled both closer, looking down only when Remus took two matching juice boxes for himself.

“So,” Remus then said, wiggling his fingers and frowning down at his hands. “I like to wash up before I eat. How 'bout you?”

~

A half an hour and four clean hands later, Patton pulled Logan over to sit with him while he ate. Prepared to assist him with his meal, Logan was surprised at Patton’s dexterity with his sandwich wrapping and drink box straw. The only help the toddler needed was a little encouragement to use a napkin instead of his sleeve to wipe up a bit of spilled juice.

Remus and Janus sat across from them and Grace sat adjacently, flipping through Patton’s file as she picked at her own food.

After a few quiet minutes, Grace looked up at Janus, brow furrowed. “How did you guess at—” She stopped, glancing at Patton, then turned the file to show the petition cover sheet.

Janus gestured to the section marked guardian ad litem. “The court-assigned GAL. Devin used to work here," he explained. "We’ve been reassigning his cases. The parent’s name stuck out.”

Reading upside down, Logan scanned the sheet and scowled. “Your client—”

“Oh, she’s not my client,” Grace interrupted, the kind of fire in her eyes Logan had only previously seen when she testified against the worst kind of group home. “Patton is my client,” she said, smiling when the little boy looked up at her, reaching for Logan’s arm. She nodded at him, gaze lingering when, apparently satisfied she wasn’t preparing to take him somewhere, he returned to slowly dipping sweet potato fries in his ketchup. “Given his…” She pursed her lips, brow furrowed as she seemed to reconsider her phrasing. “Some placements are more difficult than others. High support needs. And there are certain… behavioral difficulties. Violent tendencies…”

“You cannot be serious,” Logan began to shake his head but before he could finish his argument, she pointed to the bright red scratches that still adorned the backs of his hands.

He frowned. “That hardly seems fair.”

Grace sighed but shrugged as she finished her drink. “I didn’t say it was fair. It just is.” She sat back in her seat and closed the file. “If he needs a new GAL, maybe you’re right for the job.”

“I can think of no-one who would fight harder,” Janus murmured, then smirked. “Besides me, of course. I am the better lawyer.”

Logan chuckled. “Perhaps in your dreams.”

Making quiet whooshing sounds, Patton had begun to trace swirls of ketchup over his empty sandwich wrapper, loading up the end of a fry like a paintbrush. “Patton,” Grace said sternly. “Don’t play with your food.” She must have caught Logan’s scowl because she quickly added, “Please.”

Not listening or perhaps not hearing, Patton continued, adding a large blob of ketchup in one corner of the dirty wrapper. Remus leaned over the table, watching him.

After a moment, he asked, “Is that the sun?”

Patton beamed but didn’t look up from his work.

Reaching behind him into the ancient messenger bag he brought everywhere, Remus dug around until he came up with a small box of pastels. They weren’t the very first box Logan had bought for him, but neither were they new. “I bet Jannie here knows where we could find some paper if you want to try some different colors.”

Eyes wide, Patton looked up and nodded when Remus opened the box to reveal more than a rainbow’s worth of hues.

Logan pointed to the stack of notepads and printer paper in the corner of the room. “There’s paper right—”

“You are welcome to any blank paper you find in there,” Janus said, gesturing through the glass wall to their shared attorney-in-charge offices before looking pointedly at him.

“Of course,” he agreed, turning to Patton. “Would you like to draw across the hall with Mr. Remus?” They both turned and peered through the open door. “We will clean up here while you do.”

Chewing on his lip, Patton looked at each of them, gaze lingering on Logan’s eyes. Finally, he nodded and clambered out of his chair. He waited for Remus at the door, bouncing on his toes as Remus gathered up his bag and kissed Janus’ cheek. Remus flashed a quick wink at Logan as he rose, mouthing, “Later.”

With her head once again buried in the file, Logan doubted Grace noticed even noticed. He smiled back at Remus as he and Patton left the conference room. Patton walked beside him, eyes down at the thin chains jingling on his boots. He laughed again and copied the sound with each step before plopping down on the office floor, looking up expectantly at Remus.

Finally, Logan turned back to Janus and Grace. Grace was tapping at her phone and Janus… Janus was watching him, a crooked smile pulling up the corner of his mouth. Before he could explain, Grace sat down her phone and sighed.

“The night social worker will be here in a few hours,” she shook her head. “We’ve run out of leads for even an emergency placement for him. He’s too old for Foundling and too young for our contracted respite center. He’s—”

“He can sleep here,” Logan interrupted, momentarily surprised by his own impulsivity. Janus looked back at him, eyebrow cocked. After a beat he nodded.

“He wouldn’t be the first person to sleep here,” Janus said. “Though likely the youngest.”

“I can’t simply leave him here in the care of—”

Daggers shot from Janus’ eyes but Logan spoke before he could. “If his proficiency with children is insufficient as a clue to his qualifications, Remus is a certified respite childcare worker,” he said. “Has been for ten years. Janus and I regularly work with minor clients and have background checks on file with Chidrens' Services."

“Oh,” she said, naked surprise coloring her face. “Of course, I… I see. Well… I will need to confirm his credentials,” she fumbled for her phone but nodded. “That works as a short term solution. I…” Grace looked down at Patton’s file. “But even if his mother bothers to appear in court tomorrow and, given how drunk she sounded over the phone, that’s unlikely.” She shook her head, eyes darting up at the peal of Patton's happy laughter spilling out from their office. “His mother is unlikely to succeed in this petition.”

Logan adjusted his glasses and reached for the paperwork. “What finding, precisely, is the mother petitioning the court to stay?”

Grace sighed again, bowed head accentuating the deep shadows under her eyes. “Termination of parental rights.”

~

One more trip to Target later and they’d equipped Patton with fresh pajamas and underclothes, a toothbrush, and three different flavors of toothpaste to try. Remus had also hefted a second bag and murmured to Logan. “I bought a comb and some detangling spray for his hair, too. I have an idea.”

At some point during their coloring, Patton had noticed Remus’ tattoos and had begun to draw on his own arms with the pastels. Now, while Janus and Grace discussed the case, Logan and Remus worked on Patton’s hair. Blazer and vest shed, Logan sat on the floor with his sleeves rolled up. Patton sat facing him, smearing Crayola markers over his bare skin. He grazed the edge of Logan's braided bracelet with the marker and he froze, hand trembling.

"It is quite alright," Logan said. "They're washable, see?" he added, wiping away the errant mark with one of the hand-wipes Remus had thankfully thought to include. "It's all gone now."

A small laugh bubbled up and Patton resumed his scribbling on Logan's arm.

Remus sat behind Patton, detangling one tiny section of his hair at a time. Spraying the comb first, he then slowly worked it through from end to root, moving up only when the lower strands were free of knots.

Suddenly, Patton hissed, pained, and Remus stopped, dropping the comb. “I’m sorry, Bud, did I pull?”

But Patton was looking down at the scratches he’d left earlier on Logan’s arm, bruises the size of his own little fingertips beginning to bloom in red and purple. Gently, he brushed Logan’s arm and looked up at him with shiny, wet eyes. “You have boo-boos,” he said.

“I do,” Logan nodded. “These will heal quickly. I will be okay,” he said, not sure what else to say to a toddler who’d only just begun to have object permanence. There was little point in reminding the boy just how he'd gotten his 'boo-boos.'

Patton nodded slowly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered and Logan’s eyes flew wide open. Though far from an expert in child development, he certainly hadn’t anticipated it was even possible for a child Patton’s age to connect his earlier tantrum with Logan’s minor wounds.

“I—” Logan frowned when Patton looked up at him with more worry than a child his age should ever know. He took his hand and smiled. “I forgive you,” he said. When Patton’s forehead only creased further Logan added with a small smile, “I am not angry with you.”

Gradually, Patton’s smile matched his and he patted Logan’s hand.

“Can I keep going with your hair, Bud?” Remus asked after a minute. “We’re nearly finished,” he said.

Picking up another marker, Patton nodded and resumed coloring Logan’s arms, careful to avoid the scratches. And his bracelet. Logan looked up, again catching Janus quietly watching them. Their eyes met in silent agreement.

“Patton, please!” he said, louder before clamping his mouth shut. There was little point in trying to be heard above the couple arguing loudly only a few feet behind them. He scanned the hall, a wild hope there might be a vacant interview room nearby.

He spied a half-open door across the hall and, holding Patton out in front of him like a torch, made for the room. The crowd parted before them and whether it was the screaming child or the confused lawyer in a three-piece suit that managed it, Logan neither knew nor cared.

They burst through the door, startling the court reporter disassembling her dictation machine.

“Ah, hello,” Logan said. “I apologize, we—”

“Court’s not in session,” she said tiredly, barely looking up. 

“Yes—” he muttered, grunting when Patton landed a blow on his bicep. His arm jerked reflexively, threatening his grip on the struggling toddler. Knocked off balance, he bumped into a table, eyeglasses now hanging from one ear. Patton hit him again and his glasses fell off completely, miraculously captured on his forearm.

Faster than he could prevent, Patton snatched them up and closed his mouth mid-cry, staring down in silence at the delicate frames in his hands. 

Logan held his breath. He couldn’t take them back while he still held the boy but his glasses were no match for the strength or impulse control of the toddler. He squinted at him past fuzzy vision. “You found my glasses,” he said without really having a plan for how to get the child to return them intact.

Remarkably, the boy looked up at him and nodded, gripping the frames far more gently than Logan would have expected.

Afraid to break the spell, Logan copied him and nodded, holding his gaze. “Thank you,” he said, trying to smile.

Patton smiled back.

Encouraged, Logan nodded again and the boy mirrored his movement. “Would you put them back on my face?” he asked, holding Patton closer so he could reach. The little boy looked down at the frames in his hands and Logan nodded again. “Those stick parts go over my ears,” he said after a moment.

Suddenly Patton looked up at him and stuck the frames—upside down—on his own face. Giggling, he lifted his chin, balancing the oversized frames on his nose. Refracted through the lenses, his big blue eyes appeared even larger and they danced over Logan’s face, fighting to focus through a prescription not made for his vision.

Before he could stop it, a laugh burst from Logan’s lips and Patton giggled again.

“I imagine I look very strange to you through those lenses.”

The little boy nodded, looking around the room.

Unsure how much the toddler understood, Logan took advantage of the distraction and carefully drew him a little closer until he was holding him on his hip with one arm.

Patton grasped the glasses with both hands, not yet ready to relinquish ‘his’ treasure. “I need my glasses to see properly,” Logan said, holding out his now-free hand. “Please may I have them back now?”

He blinked up at Logan several times before finally plucking off the glasses and placing them gently in his hand. Ignoring the smudged lenses, Logan quickly placed them back on his face and smiled at the little boy.

“Thank you very much, Patton,” he said. Relief at both the return of his eyeglasses and Patton’s continued calm broadened his smile.

“Wewcome,” Patton said quieter than Logan predicted he could.

Though Patton had stopped crying the moment he’d touched Logan’s glasses, his face was smeared in tears and nasal secretions and saliva. One arm still looped around the little boy's back, Logan fished in his pocket for a packet of tissues. “May I dry your face, Patton?” he asked, holding out the small paper square.

The little boy frowned and sniffled, eyeing the tissue suspiciously.

“I will be very gentle and it might help you feel better,” Logan said, finding a smile.

Patton nodded once, wincing when the tissue first touched his cheek. Logan waited and Patton nodded again, this time more firmly. Using a slow, careful touch, Logan wiped away the worst of it before tossing the soiled tissue in a dented trash can near the door. He then retrieved another tissue and offered it to Patton. “Would you like to do more?”

He blinked at him, surprised, but accepted the folded tissue.

“Dab like this,” he said, miming patting his eyes. “With your eyes closed.”

The little boy followed his instructions, a tiny giggle slipping past a stern expression. Logan realized he himself had been frowning and he took a slow breath, letting a small smile show through.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Sanders,” the court reporter interrupted. In the chaos of their arrival, he’d failed to register that he’d seen her around the courthouse before. He caught sight of the monogram on her roller bag, DMB and wracked his brain. Barni? “I’m closing this room in another couple minutes. You and your son will need to leave.”

Dropping the tissue, Patton’s tiny hands pinched his shirt, gripping the material with as much ferocity as he’d fought just moments earlier. “Oh, yes, er—I mean—” he shook his head. “He’s not my son, I’m merely assisting a social worker from Chidlrens’ and watching him while she testifies. Though—” When he made no move to put him down, Patton relaxed his grip by a fraction and leaned his head on Logan’s shoulder.

His eyes, though, were fixed on the door that had closed behind them.

“Patton? Did the noise out in the hallway disturb you?” he asked, suppressing his fear of sounding foolish at asking a toddler such a question.

But Patton nodded, eyes wide.

“Is that why you fought against being held?” He shrank in one himself and Logan squeezed his arm carefully around the little boy. “I am not angry, only curious. You are not in any trouble.” 

After a long moment, he nodded once more.

“You know,” Barni said. “If it’s just for little while…” She smiled, eyes never leaving the toddler’s face. “I can always start my indexing down here. It’s quieter than the reporters’ room this time of day, anyway. You can stay.”

Patton relaxed completely then, though Logan couldn’t imagine the child understood everything they were saying. Still, Logan shared the relief pouring off of him. He clearly understood enough. Well… “Patton, we will need to be very quiet so Ms. Barni can concentrate.” He met the boy’s eyes and he nodded solemnly. “Do you understand?”

“Quiet. Like naptime,” he said in a tiny whisper.

Fear flashed over his eyes but was gone after a moment, so Logan nodded. “A little bit.” He looked around the room and spotted an abandoned newspaper at the furthest table, probably from someone else who’d needed a reprieve from the ruckus of the hallway. “Let’s settle in over there, shall we?” he said, pointing to the corner.

The little boy’s smile melted but he nodded again, a little hesitantly.

Working hard to keep a small smile on his own face, Logan wondered what caused the new change in his demeanor. Instead of addressing it directly, though, he moved closer to the three chairs at the table and gestured at each of them. “Which seat would you like?”

Face screwed up in confusion, he pointed to the one furthest from the reporter.

“Very good,” Logan nodded. “And which seat would you like me to use?”

Without hesitation, Patton chose the seat in the middle, closest to him.

“Alright then,” Logan said. “I’m going to put you down and I need you to stay in this seat while Ms. Barni works. Do you understand?”

He nodded and quietly cooperated with Logan’s efforts to get him seated. Logan quickly sat beside him and pulled the newspaper closer, flipping the pages until he found what he’d hoped was inside.

Comics.

“Would you like to look at these?” he said, taking out his phone and sending a quick text to Janus to let him know where they were before looking up Grace’s number to send the same. “I need to send a message to Miss Grace and my colleague.” The little boy frowned and Logan chuckled at himself as he typed. “My friend.”

“Mr. Janus?”

Fumbling the phone, Logan’s eyes flew wide open. “Y—yes… How… How could you possibly know that?”

Rubbing his hands over the colorful newsprint in front of him, he shrugged and glanced at Logan’s phone. 

Logan looked down at the screen before it clicked. Grace had been speaking on her own phone when he’d first approached. “Were you listening to Miss Grace on her phone call?”

Patton curled in on himself and wouldn’t look at him. 

“It is quite alright if you were,” Logan said. “No-one is in trouble.”

Those magic words seemed to shift something in him and he looked up at Logan with big, wet eyes. “Mommy was mad.”

Ice water flowed through Logan’s veins at the shakiness in the little boy’s voice and he fought a sudden drive to pull him onto his lap. Instead, he took a slow breath and nodded, wrapping himself in a bit of his interview objectivity. Judges were generally reluctant to remove children Patton’s age from their parents. Whatever this child had been through, it hadn’t been good. “Grace can talk to your mother,” he said, reluctant to over promise. “And that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You—”

Shouts from the hallway poured in as the door swung open and Patton launched himself into Logan's lap, face buried against his chest. “Close the door!” he said as he turned, sharper than he intended.

Grace and Janus stood in the doorway, stunned. “Please!” he said and Janus recovered first, turning and pushing the door shut.

“Lo, are you—” Janus rushed forward, stopping only when Patton flinched in Logan’s lap and curled even closer to him.

It was only then Logan took in his own state. Tiny red cuts covered the backs of his hands and his tie was crooked. His jacket sleeves were pushed up almost to his elbows. The button on one shirtsleeve had popped off somewhere and the material flopped open, revealing tiny scratches and red marks over his forearm.

“I’m fine, Jan,” he smiled. “Truly.”

“I…” Grace found her voice and stepped closer, arms out to take Patton from him. “I am so sorry, Logan. He acts out but I didn’t think he would—”

Whining in distress, Patton scooted to Logan’s other side, clinging to his arm as he moved as far from Grace as he could without leaving Logan’s lap.

“The noise outside is too much for him,” Logan said, noting Janus’ raised eyebrow. “Where will you take him?”

“I…” Grace frowned, shaking her head. “I don’t have a placement for him until someone from Children’s arrives tonight and then…” She shrugged helplessly.

Logan and Janus exchanged a glance. They’d had enough experience as GALs on other cases to know what that meant. Patton would likely sleep in someone's office while another social worker spent the night trying to find a home for him. The rare children his age were usually easy to place. But if his earlier behavior was any indication, his high needs were likely making placement difficult.

“Why don’t you bring him to our offices and wait there until your relief arrives?” Janus suggested, nodding at Logan's grateful smile.

"That's better than my plan," she said and moved to take Patton again. But before she could reach him, her phone rang. She looked surprised at the caller ID. "I have to take this," she said to them and answered the call. “Miss Croft, yes, thank you for—” Grace’s face crumpled and she turned, cupping her mouth and speaking lower. “If you do not appear tomorrow, you—” She scoffed and shook her head as though whomever she was speaking to could hear her.

Patton shrank against him and before Logan realized what he was doing, he began to pat the toddler’s back. “Everything will be okay,” he promised, avoiding Janus’ pointed gaze.

“I hope you understand—” Grace began before turning the phone to stare at a blank screen. “I can’t believe she hung up!” she cried.

“I’m sorry folks, I need the room.”

Frankly, Logan had forgotten the court reporter was still there. “Thank you, Barni,” he said, rising to his feet and using both arms to hold Patton close. Not that the little boy gave him much choice. Tiny fingers digging into his arms, he clung to Logan, not budging from his position.

“Grace,” Janus said, one hand resting gently on her shoulder. “Let’s finish this discussion at our offices.” He peered closely at the boy’s tiny fingers. “Re is off today," he said to Logan. "Perhaps I can ask him to bring us all some dinner?”

Patton’s stomach grumbled strongly enough that Logan could feel it against his back. “Good thinking,” he smiled at Janus. “Patton?” he said quietly. “We will need to go back in the hallway to get to somewhere quieter. You do not have shoes,” he observed, glancing at Grace.

She shook her head, frowning.

“I can carry you or Miss Grace—”

Patton shook his head, another whine pushing up from his throat as he held on even tighter.

“Very well, I will carry you. It is not far.” Logan followed Janus and Grace to the doors. “Would you like to cover your ears? I will not let go.”

Nodding quickly, the tiny boy clamped both hands over his ears and buried his face against Logan’s shirt.

Janus opened the door and the four of them braced themselves before stepping into the din of the hallway. Focused on making their way quickly through the slowly thinning crowd, Logan caught only part of Janus’ next words to Grace.