Nia

Dick holds you flush against his chest, his warmth bubbling you while Wally lines up his tip with your entrance.

Dick's cock is already buried deep inside of your pussy, both of you straining to keep still while Wally prepped your ass. He'd kept his lips on yours, keeping you quiet lest his neighbors file another complaint again.

The redhead had taken his sweet time with it, too, making sure you were beyond fully prepped before he even thought about sticking his cock in you.

Now, his tip pressed against the lube he'd spread around your ass, he's practically vibrating in excitement. Despite his eagerness, he's slow to push inside of you.

It's rare the three of you do this—at least, rare you let either of them touch your ass. But given they'd sacrificed a night of fighting crime to wear particularly dorky matching costumes with you, you figured they'd earned it.

You suck in a breath at the stretch. No longer how long they prep you, no matter how relaxed you are, having both of them inside of you is always a strain.

"Easy," Dick mumbles in your ear, teeth grazing your cartilage. "You can take it."

Wally's breathless when he bottoms out, taking short breaths around the lollipop he'd jammed into his mouth before the three of you had gotten to the bedroom.

His fingers massage your ass, digging into the flash while he lets you adjust to the stretch.

"You can move now." You glance at him over your shoulder, "please."

Wally's still caught up in his thoughts on how hot you and Dick look, how good you look double stuffed with cock. "God, I'm the luckiest man alive."

"You might be," you laugh breathily. "Now move. Please."

"Yes, ma'am."

He feigned a defeated sigh, “Awh man, I’m beat. I wonder who it is that smells so nice.”

A melodic giggle and then the hands were gone. Logan’s eyes fluttered open and there you were standing before him, eclipsed perfectly between him and the sun behind you, shining a halo around your head.

He smiled instinctively. “Hey, gorgeous.”

“You think I smell nice?”

Logan nodded, taking your hand and pressing a kiss against your palm.

“You smell amazing. Always do.”

You beamed. “Thanks, Johnny.”

You shifted shyly under his praise, the gift bag slung on your arm crinkled against your leg. The sound caught Logan’s attention, his eyes flicked over and his expression sobered.

“Baby.”

“What?” You asked innocently.

He gave you a knowing look.

“It’s not that expensive this time!”

Logan sighed, “Princess.”

“I promise!”

“You said that last time.”

“And I wasn’t lying!”

“You got me a car engine that was used in one of the Fast and Furious movies.”

“But—”

“From the set in Abu Dhabi.”

You looked at your feet, “It was imported…”

Logan shook his head and pulled you closer. “You know I don’t need expensive gifts every week, gorgeous. I know it’s how you show love, but I don’t want you spending money on me.”

“But I pinky promise this one isn’t as bad,” you held out your little finger to him.

He couldn’t deny you when you looked so adorable. He wrapped his pinky finger around yours begrudgingly.

“Alright, show it to me, princess.”

And the smile you gave him—followed by that joyful “Yay!!” and enthusiastic clap—made him forget all about the lecture he just gave you.

+

At the off campus house, Dean, Tucker, and Logan all sat on the living room couch, watching an action movie Dean and Tucker fought over. But the latter was much more interested in pestering Logan with questions about his recent escapades.

“So who is she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Logan replied, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“You’ve gotta be seeing someone, dude. You’ve been disappearing like crazy.” Tucker insisted.

“You wouldn’t know her,” Logan responded.

“Kendall Klein?” He tried.

“Nope.”

“Grace Ivers?”

“Uh uh.”

“Refill duty,” Dean tossed the empty popcorn bowl to Logan, who sighed in exasperation but stood up nonetheless.

When he walked in front of the couch, Dean suddenly raised his hand up.

“Park it.”

Logan halted in his tracks.

Dean spun his finger in the air, “Reverse.”

Logan complied and stood before him.

Dean lasered in on him with that perceptive gaze that meant he knew something and he was judging. Hard.

“Isabel Marant?”

Logan’s brows knitted together, “That’s not my girlfriend’s name either.”

“Ha! So there is a girlfriend,” Tucker smiled victoriously. “Damn, I didn’t think it was that serious.”

Dean waved his hands for Tucker to cut it. “Not the point!” Then he pointed at Logan’s feet. “Those shoes.”

Logan peered down and kicked his foot up slightly. “You like ‘em? They’re new.”

“Yeah, and they’re also $400.” Dean said.

Logan’s eyes widened. So you lied, sneaky—

“You don’t say,” he commented casually.

Dean raised a brow. “You’re telling me you spent $400 on sneakers?”

“Felt like treating myself.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

Dean stared at him before standing up to his full height. “Logan, don’t do it.”

Logan’s furrowed in confusion, “Don’t do what?”

“A rich girl. You’re dating a rich girl.”

Wow, he did not think Dean out of all people would be the first to put it together.

“Wait, you’re dating a rich girl?” Tucker asked, rising up from the couch as well.

Logan looked between them, suddenly feeling like he was put in the spotlight. “I—no. She’s not that rich—”

“Is that how you got that Fast and Furious collector’s item?” Tucker questioned.

“I still need to figure out if UPS can ship that back to the UAE—”

“YOU GUYS ARE SIDE TRACKING!” Dean yelled.

Logan blinked in surprise.

“Logan, you don’t understand.” Dean put his hands together in a praying motion. “Rich girls, they’re a different breed, alright? Not the cute, fun kind like Shiba Inus. No, like chihuahuas.”

“Chihuahuas are kind of cute,” Logan quipped.

“Yeah, they are…until they bite your hand off!” Dean exclaimed.

Logan squinted his eyes. “Alright, you’re laying it on thick.”

“No, I’m not, dude. Trust me. I grew up in New York. I’ve lived in the Hamptons. These rich people are insane. They don’t just accept lower class folk—”

“Ouch?”

“—they hunt them for sport,” Dean told him.

“Okay, maybe that’s a bit exaggerated,” Tucker chimed in.

“A little,” Dean muttered.

Logan sighed, “She’s not like that, alright? She’s actually really kind and sweet and generous, okay? She’d never do that.”

“Have you met her family?” Dean asked.

“…No.”

Dean made a ‘I told you so’ gesture.

Tucker spoke, “You should let us meet her. You know, check it out. Dean will lend you his rich people expertise.”

Logan raised a brow, “Is this an excuse for you to see who she is?”

“Oh 100%.”

Logan sighed.

+

A week later, Logan was pacing the hockey house living room. You were coming to meet his friends for the first time.

Garrett came down the stairs and saw them all gathered, “…What are we doing?”

“Meeting Logan’s girlfriend,” Tucker told him.

“You have a girlfriend?” Garrett queried.

Logan opened his mouth to answer but Dean spoke up, “We don’t know that yet.” He raised a finger. “Guilty unless proven innocent.”

Logan rolled his eyes, “Stop with that.”

“You’ll thank me when I save your life.”

The doorbell rang.

Logan froze and looked at his roommates. They stared back at him.

“Alright…just…don’t be fucking weird,” he told them before going to the door and pulling it open.

“Hi, Johnny!” You chirped.

Logan practically melted at the sight and sound of you. “Hey…”

You peered over his shoulder and saw all three of his friends standing behind him. You waited for him to let you in.

Your boyfriend cleared his throat and stepped aside for you to enter. You walked into the home and shared a polite smile with the group of hockey players.

Logan took a deep breath, “Guys, this is my girlfriend.”

You waved excitedly and shared your name.

“Baby, this is—”

“Garrett, Tucker, and Dean,” you finished. “I’ve seen you guys play! Though, I’m new to the sport…I only started watching recently.”

You blushed at the memory of only taking up hockey as an interest because of your crush on Logan.

“Welcome to our place,” Garrett greeted.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Tucker said.

Dean said nothing. His eyes inspected your figure. He grew up with a spoiled sister so he could tell you were dressed in designer from head to toe.

Yup, you were a rich girl.

You lifted up a box, “I brought everyone banana pudding.”

Tucker practically lunged forward and took the box from you, carrying it over to the kitchen counter. Garrett followed after him, you shared a look with Logan, as if waiting for his approval.

Logan gave you a reassuring nod and squeeze before leading you into the kitchen. Dean was the last to trail behind everyone.

“Magnolia Bakery?” Tucker gasped when he opened the box. “They opened one here?”

“I got it from New York,” you replied.

Tucker practically moaned around his spoon when he took a bite. Garrett chuckled at that before looking at you, “Did you go there over the weekend or something?”

You shook your head, “No, I had my butler fly there this morning to get it.” You answered sweetly, utterly oblivious.

The guys all exchanged a look.

Logan kept an awkward smile on then turned to you with a low voice, “Baby, I thought we talked about this.”

“You said no imports,” you pouted cutely.

Logan bit back a sigh. “You’re right, I did.”

“I just wanted to do something nice for your friends…” You mumbled, your bottom lip quivering.

Garrett noticed and changed the topic, “Dean, hey, you’re from New York, right? Come have some, I bet you miss a taste from home.”

Dean, who was a silent observer to all this, finally stepped into the kitchen fully and grabbed a spoon. He scooped some pudding up and ate it.

A beat.

“I see you got the seasonal flavor.” He noted.

You nodded hopefully.

Dean returned a slow nod before dropping his spoon. Your heart skipped a beat, thinking he was going to disapprove.

Then, “Fuck, Logan, she’s a good one.”

Garrett and Tucker laughed, playfully hitting Dean on the back. Logan rolled his eyes, but he could not deny that a part of him loosened in relief. Not that he needed Dean to make a judgment on you—more so that he really wanted his friends to like you.

Because he liked you. A lot.

You grinned, “Yay!” You exclaimed, clapping your hands before launching yourself into Logan’s arms.

He stumbled for a moment but hugged you back, sharing a bewildered but happy look with the boys over your shoulder. They returned the look with obnoxious smirks.

“I thought Dean would be way scarier,” you told Logan without thinking.

Logan smiled nervously and glanced at Dean who looked incredibly offended. “No…I didn’t say he was.”

“You said he was judgy,” you titled your head.

Garrett and Tucker had to bite down on their cackles, leaning onto each other for support.

“Judgy?” Dean repeated with a glare.

Logan looked at him, “I mean…” he shrugged.

“Don’t worry, Dean.” you said reassuringly. “You don’t seem judgy or dumb at all!”

Garrett burst out in laughter, “Oh, man. I like this girl, Loge!”

You blinked, completely unaware. “Thank you, Garrett. You don’t seem like a moody drama queen either!”

Garrett’s face dropped. Now it was Tucker’s turn to laugh out loud.

He pointed at Garrett’s dumbfounded expression. “She got you too, G.”

You were a bit confused by their reactions. You looked at Logan, “Did I say something funny?”

Logan just watched the scene, half horrified, half amused. He shook his head and pulled you into his side. “Nah, gorgeous. You’re perfect.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head as all three of his friends started comedically arguing and laughing over the mess you started.

“Okay, yay!” You clapped your hands. “Because I have a little something for you waiting in my car. It was under a thousand dollars this time, I promise—”

the boys adopt her and take her to try “normal” people stuff she’s never done before

“Hey,” you greet, placing your phone on speaker so you can finish writing an improper lane change citation. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Dick checks.

“Around the corner from the hospital,” you reply. “Why? Need me for something?”

“Maybe,” he hums. “Keep your phone on?”

“You got it, Detective.”

Dick closes a car door, then inquires, “What are you doing tonight?”

“Ah, you know, the usual. Watching meaningless TV and questioning my purpose.”

“Cool, cool,” he murmurs. “So, I’ll come by around 6?”

You huff a laugh, then agree, “See you then.”

“There’s really nothing I can do to get out of this, green eyes?” the man in the sports car flirts when you return.

Setting your clipboard atop his door, you answer, “Nope. Sign here and keep this copy. Your court date’s at the bottom: next Friday at 10:30 a.m.”

“And, uh, your name is also on the citation?” he checks after he signs, flourishing the pen as if this is an autograph and not a legally binding agreement to appear in court.

“It is.” You pull your clipboard back and say, “Use it for anything other than traffic court and you’ll catch another charge. Have a nice day.”

It’s nearly midnight, but there’s a vaguely human-shaped form standing in the center of the road. Slowing, you flip the switch that turns on your spotlight. The bright LED lights up the entire street. Your breath catches when you see Jason Todd standing motionless on the center yellow line, his green eyes glowing as his head tips slowly toward his shoulder.

“I’m dreaming again,” you whisper to yourself.

You pinch your eyes closed and try to wake up. But then Jason screams.

Flinching, you look back at him, unable to do anything as a flood of glowing green liquid approaches, dragging Jason down and silencing his cries for help.

“Wake up!” you beg, hitting the steering wheel. “Wake up!”

This time, your body obeys. You sit up in your bed, a sheen of sweat on your forehead as you adjust to the darkness in the familiar room around you. It’s been a while since you dreamed of the Pit, but since Jason Todd sped into your life a few weeks ago, it’s been near nightly. If it’s not him being reclaimed by the shores he was carried back to, someone else you care about is drowned in the life-giving fluid and comes back different.

The night after you met Jason was the last time you slept through the night. You had dreamed then, but it was different.

“Dick?” you whisper when you step out into the hall. “You still here?”

“Uh… depends,” he replies. When he speaks again, he sounds like his mouth is full. “How mad would you be if I was here and eating your leftover dessert?”

You emerge in the kitchen, and Dick’s guilty smile disappears. He steps forward and wraps you in a warm hug. But you both know he doesn’t understand. You pray he never will.

“You better have a valid reason to be lingering, idling, or standing in a private place,” you muse, walking down the hallway of your apartment building.

Jason looks up from his position against your front door and squints. “Don’t loitering laws target behavior that occurs before illegal activities?”

“Mmhmm. So, my point stands.”

Jason grunts softly as he pushes himself up, standing back so you can unlock your door. “You interrogate Dick when he comes to visit or am I special?”

“I do enjoy a good interrogation,” you joke, ushering him inside.

Jason closes and locks your door, watching you move from the front closet to the kitchen, then toward the short hallway that extends to the left of your living room. You seemed comfortable in Dick’s apartment; he assumed it would be the same here – seeing as this is your space, where you can be completely yourself without anyone else around – but your shoulders are still drawn up toward your ears when you return in a Metropolis Meteors t-shirt and your most comfortable bottoms.

“What do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Todd?” you ask, leaning against the island. “I was going to make dinner, if you’re interested.”

“You haven’t been sleeping,” he points out.

You roll your eyes half-heartedly. “Pointing out my eye bags isn’t making me eager to cook for you.”

“You’re dreaming about the Pit,” he knows somehow.

You straighten, looking between his eyes and the white streak in his hair. “I…”

“There’s- there are a lot of things I don’t understand about the Lazarus Pit,” he begins. “One of those things being the nightmares. They happen when you’re around someone else who was brought back by the Pit. Sometimes it’s just a night, other times it takes six months for them to stop.”

“I’ve never been around anyone except Ra’s,” you admit softly. “How many times have you had to deal with this?”

“Five or six,” Jason says, shrugging. “You’re still having them?”

You nod, tangling your fingers together as your eyes drop. “I… I’m glad I met you. No one else would have understood. I mean, Dick is great, but he doesn’t know how it feels.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. But I like knowing that you’re here, that I have someone to talk to now.”

Jason smiles, his hand brushing your arm when you pass him to enter the kitchen.

“I’m a call away,” he reminds you. “And apparently I’m a filthy, rotten criminal who speeds and loiters, so I can get here quickly.”

You laugh, and Jason is struck by how little the Pit actually took away. It seems the things that truly matter can be reclaimed.

“You’ll freak Damian out just by knowing who Talia is,” Dick adds, tapping a photo of Damian on Jason’s bookshelf.

“Are you sure scaring a family of hero vigilantes with something related to Ra’s al Ghul is a good idea?” you check. Again.

Neither Jason nor Dick reply, shifting their focus to Tim and something about his spleen.

“Wait!” Dick exclaims, spinning toward you. “Would you be opposed to dyeing a strip of your hair white?”

You glance at Jason, who mouths an apology, then smacks the back of Dick’s head.

“Dude,” he sighs. “Have you ever thought before you spoke?”

“You mean to say you haven’t wondered why I don’t have one?” you ask Jason.

He shrugs. “You’ll understand if your hair hasn’t been my primary focus.”

Your smile betrays the faux hurt in your voice when you ask, “You don’t think my hair is pretty?”

“Flirt on your own time,” Dick demands. “We have a plan to finish.”

“He’s grumpy because he feels left out,” Jason stage whispers.

“I could take both of you in a fight right now.”

“I have a gun,” Jason reminds him without hesitation.

Reaching up, you release the clip holding your hair up. When it falls, you shake your head gently, and Jason’s lips part.

Behind your ear is a small section of stark white hair. It follows the natural movement of the rest of your hair, but somehow makes your eyes sparkle, and draws Jason’s attention to your mouth.

“That one sufficient?” you ask Dick, gesturing toward the side of your head.

“Yeah, that’ll work,” he mumbles, nodding as he looks at you.

“If you haven’t tried dyeing yours,” you tell Jason, “I can confirm that nothing will cover it. Not for long, at least.”

“I took a Sharpie to mine every thirty minutes for the first week and a half,” he confesses. “Yours… it looks good on you.”

“Flirt on your own time,” Dick repeats, clapping between each word. “We need to convince Tim you’ve seen his spleen!”

“Why would I have seen his spleen?!” you exclaim.

Both Dick and Jason are surprisingly indifferent in their shared response of, “Ra’s took it.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s totally normal,” you murmur.

Jason is watching you rather than the movie he recommended.

“What are you doing?” you ask, reaching across him to steal a spoonful of his ice cream.

Jason smiles, a lazy, crooked expression that makes you smile, too. “Trying to endear myself to you,” he answers. “Is it working?”

You hum, considering the question. “Not yet.” Jason nods dismally, then shakes his head when you add, “Keep trying.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t meet the others,” Jason murmurs then.

“Why? Worried Batman will scare me away?”

“Not exactly. My family is… they’re a lot.”

“Ra’s al Ghul visits my apartment, Jason,” you remind him. “It will take a lot to scare me away. Thanks to you speeding through my city, you’re stuck with me.”

Jason realizes that you’re much closer than when the move started. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and sighs when you lean into him.

“Are you sure you’re not endeared yet?” Jason whispers several minutes later, when you’ve tossed your legs over his lap and shifted to watch his profile.

“What was it you said before?” you whisper. “Later.”

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But one of them was different. Daniel. He wasn’t exactly kind, but he wasn’t cruel either. There were times when you caught him watching you, his gaze lingering just a second too long. When he spoke to you, it wasn’t with the same dismissiveness his siblings used. And though he seemed to carry the same entitled arrogance that the rest of his family wore so easily, you’d seen something else in him—a flicker of something more human.

You’d told yourself not to think too much about it. He was still a Le Domas, still part of that world of wealth and twisted privilege. He’d barely spoken to you over the last few weeks, though when he did, it was never in the way he spoke to the other staff. There was something gentler in his tone when he addressed you, a softness that set him apart from the others. You weren’t sure what to make of it. Maybe he was just bored. Or maybe he saw you as an amusing distraction from the mess his family was constantly embroiled in.

Still, you couldn’t deny the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he entered the room, or the way your stomach fluttered the few times his lips curled into a faint, almost hesitant smile as you passed him in the halls. You scolded yourself for the feelings growing in the pit of your stomach. He was rich, spoiled, and more than a little bit of an asshole, but there was something about him that you found yourself drawn to despite your better judgment.

A crash from down the hall snapped you from your thoughts. One of the other maids must have dropped a tray of glasses, and you winced as the sound shattered the calm of the night. Then, a scream—a gut-wrenching, blood-chilling scream echoed through the mansion, freezing you in place.

You turned toward the source of the sound, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. The polished floors, once so pristine, suddenly felt like a death trap. Something was happening, something you didn’t understand. You weren’t sure if you wanted to.

And that’s when you saw him. Daniel.

He appeared at the end of the hallway, his face tight, eyes wild and darker than you’d ever seen them. There was none of that playful aloofness you’d grown used to in the past weeks. He wasn’t the Daniel you’d caught glimpses of—the one who seemed just a little softer when he looked at you. This was something else, something dangerous.

Your stomach knotted in confusion as he strode toward you, his steps quick and deliberate. A part of you wanted to run, but the other part—the part that remembered those stolen glances, those fleeting moments—rooted you in place.

“Come with me. Now.” His voice was low, urgent.

You blinked, not quite processing the situation. “What’s—?”

“No time to explain,” he snapped, grabbing your wrist with a firm but not painful grip. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, but there was no time to dwell on it. His eyes softened for just a moment, but the fear behind them only deepened your own. “You need to hide. Right now.”

Your heart hammered in your chest as he pulled you down the hall, the confusion and dread building with every step. His grip tightened around your wrist, and you stumbled to keep up with his long strides.

“What’s happening? Daniel—”

“You don’t want to know,” he cut you off, his voice sharp but laced with regret. He didn’t slow down as he pulled you toward a small alcove near the back of the house. His jaw was clenched, tension radiating off him in waves. You’d never seen him like this before, and it terrified you.

He shoved you into a dark closet, slamming the door shut behind you. The sudden darkness pressed in around you, and your heart raced in the suffocating space. You pressed your ear against the door, trying to make sense of the sounds outside. The distant screams, the frantic footsteps, the laughter—twisted, cruel laughter. This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t right.

Your breath hitched as the door creaked open again, just a crack, and Daniel’s face reappeared in the dim light. His expression was haunted, conflicted, as if he was waging some internal battle. His usual composed demeanor was shattered, replaced by something raw, something vulnerable.

“They’re hunting,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Hide-and-seek, but with real consequences.” His jaw clenched, and you could see the bitterness behind his eyes. “If they find you, they might kill you.”

Your stomach twisted in horror. “What? Why—”

“It’s a tradition,” he spat, the word laced with venom. “A sick, twisted family tradition. You weren’t supposed to be a part of this. You were not even supposed to be working tonight, dammit!” He paused, his eyes flicking down the hall as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment. “But once it starts, no one’s safe. Not even you.”

You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. “Why are you helping me?”

Daniel hesitated, his eyes meeting yours, the conflict in them more apparent than ever. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

“Because I can’t stand by and watch another you die,” he muttered. 

Your breath caught in your throat at the rawness of his confession. You stared at him, trying to reconcile the Daniel you thought you knew with the one standing before you now. He was part of this family—this horrifying, murderous family—and yet he was risking everything to help you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, unsure of what else to say. The words felt small, but they were all you had in the face of the overwhelming danger that lurked beyond that door.

Daniel’s gaze softened slightly, but his expression remained grim. “Don’t thank me yet,” he murmured. “We’re not out of this.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, your world narrowing to just the space between you. The house around you was alive with danger, but in that small, darkened closet, it felt like time had slowed, like you were suspended in the quiet before the storm.

“You need to trust me,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

And despite everything—the terror, the uncertainty, the madness unfolding around you—you found yourself nodding. You trusted him, even if you didn’t fully understand why. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the quiet vulnerability in his voice. Or maybe it was just that, despite his flaws, he was still the only one standing between you and the nightmare beyond that door.

“Let’s go,” he said, and his hand reached for yours again, warm and steady, even as the rest of the world seemed to crumble.

You took it.

Masterlist

You had rolled your eyes and nudged him, “It’s for a good cause.”

“You’re paying to go out on a date with your boyfriend.”

“I’m paying to fund a little cane’s hockey endeavors.”

Except you can’t do either of those things because your trusted friend turned out to not be so trustworthy.

“I’m sorry, babe! I really am,” Allie’s eyes shone with guilt. “Della had me working a table during Logan’s segment, and I lost the stupid auction paddle—”

You raised your hand up to cut her off. With a resigned sigh, you let any hard feelings flee from your system. Allie had been having a rough couple of days—with the Sean breakup, and her recent streak of suspicious disappearances that you still hadn’t confronted her about, you knew this was a genuine mistake.

“Did he at least sell for a good price?” You asked.

“$750, baby!”

The voice came from behind you, along with a strong arm draping over your shoulders. You turned your head and met your boyfriend’s handsome face. Logan wore a gleeful smile, probably elated that the fundraiser had gone so well despite the last minute arrangements.

“Wow, that’s a lot,” you noted in surprise.

Logan’s expression shifted to a subtle pout. “You don’t think I’m worth that much?”

You kissed his stubble placatingly. “I think you’re priceless, babe.”

That got him to grin again.

Tucker came up behind and clapped him on the back, “Your boy here got the second highest bid.”

You shared an unimpressed look with Allie, “Let me guess, the top bid was on—”

“Well, well, well, Mrs. Logan. You finally showed up,” Dean joined the circle with a smug smile.

“Speak of the devil,” Allie said spitefully.

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed, “You wound me, theatre kid.”

“I know you mean that as an insult, but I take it as a compliment.”

“You tell him, Al,” Beau popped up right behind Dean. He shot Allie a wink.

“How much did they get on you?” You redirected the conversation back into place.

The blond shrugged casually, peering down at his drink. “Nothing grand. A humble amount, really.”

Beau rolled his eyes and answered, “$1800.”

Your eyes widened, “You’re kidding.”

Dean’s mouth hung open, “Don’t stoop to their level, Mrs. Logan.” He pointed an accusing finger your way.

“I’m just shocked that somebody has that much money laying around,” you replied.

“We could’ve renovated the theatre department’s stage,” Allie noted bitterly.

“I could’ve gotten new car rims,” Logan added.

“Or that new gaming console,” Tucker said.

“Or my housing payment,” you continued.

“Or better toner for his hair,” Beau teased Dean.

“OKAY! WE GET IT!” Dean exclaimed, holding his hands up to stop the discussion.

Hannah and Garrett walked by, holding hands. The former shared a bright smile, “Hey, you made it!”

“How much was your boyfriend?” You asked her.

“5 bucks.”

“How.” You deadpanned. Garrett was a good looking guy, a very popular one at that. You’ve seen the herds of puck bunnies that worshipped him. A five dollar bid was ridiculous to even consider.

“Garrett stopped the auction once Wellsy placed her bid,” Tucker responded.

Smooth move, Graham.

And he knew it. Garrett had a shit-eating grin on his face like he knew he just won a million boyfriend points.

“That’s so cute,” you said before turning your head to eye your boyfriend. “Why didn’t you do that?”

The boys stifled their laughs at that.

Logan paused for a beat before he replied with: “I…wanted to make sure we raised enough money for the children.”

Smooth move, Logan.

Garrett dapped him up like his answer was ingenious. You hmphed and looked away. Logan squeezed your waist in an appeasing gesture.

“Well, when’s your date?” You asked.

Logan looked at his watch, which was on the wrist of the arm he had around you, so he charmingly pulled you closer to him to check the time. “In half an hour.”

You blinked. “What? Why so soon?”

Dean answered, “She requested it.”

“And is anyone gonna tell me who she is?”

“HIPAA,” Dean mimed zipping his lips closed.

“That’s for medical stuff, dingus,” Hannah told him.

“Is someone a sore loser?” Dean taunted.

Your gaze flew to Allie, “You placed a bid?”

“No,” she defended rather quickly. “Dean’s just…being stupid.” She muttered before rushing back into the staff kitchen.

You would’ve questioned their exchange more, but Logan’s arm returned to his side. “I should go too. You know, freshen up for my date.”

You flashed a faux smile, “Keep talking like that and you’ll have to go looking for a real date after this.”

The group dispersed—Garrett tugging Hannah along for their ‘fairly’-earned date, Dean and Tucker off to count up all the money they collected, Logan away to prepare for his mystery girl, and Beau gave your shoulder a reassuring rub and said, “If you give me $20 right now, I’ll go on a date with you” before you glared at him enough for him to bolt out.

You decided to stick around and help the group clean up the place once the festivities ended. Surely it wasn’t because you wanted to see the girl who spent hundreds of dollars to hang out with your boyfriend.

“Pop a fucking button, Logan. What is this, Sunday school?” Tucker was playing with Logan’s outfit to ensure he looked presentable for his date.

Logan’s eyebrows knitted together, “Relax, Law Roach. Are you forgetting she’s not actually my girlfriend?”

“For $750, you better start acting like she is.”

You cleared your throat loudly.

Tucker shot you an apologetic look.

“…John?”

The pair of them turned their attentions to the voice.

There stood a tall, stunning girl with beautiful deep tanned skin, hair down in luscious locs adorned in gold hair cuffs, and smooth legs peeking out from under her skirt. She looked like a model.

She looked between the two hockey players.

“You’re Amala,” Logan voiced.

She nodded with relief, “Yes. John, right?”

“We’re both John,” Tucker chimed in.

“Ohh,” Amala nodded.

“You can call me Logan,” your boyfriend said, stretching out a hand towards her.

“Logan,” she repeated the name, shaking his hand.

Tucker pushed Logan a step forward, “Have fun, you two.”

Logan looked over his shoulder to share one last look with you. He gave a reassuring smile, his eyes soft. Amala noticed and waved at you shyly. You waved back slowly.

Logan turned back to Amala, “Where would you like to go? You’re the boss.” He told her with a charming grin.

She shrugged with a smile, “Here is fine.”

“Here?” Logan raised a brow, surveying the post-function bar. “We could, though I thought of taking you out for ice cream—”

“Ice cream sounds great!”

“Yeah?” He smiled. “Perfect.”

Your eye twitched as you picked up discarded confetti off the floor.

Logan guided Amala out Malone’s with a hand hovering—not touching—over her lower back. The bell hanging over the door rang in a soft tune as they exited, making their departure.

“Remind me again why I agreed to letting my boyfriend sell himself? ” you queried as you picked up a broom.

Tucker raised a brow, “For charity?”

“Right,” you sighed.

Tucker looked around, “Hey, have you seen Dean? He was supposed to drive all this stuff back to the hockey house.”

You shook your head, “No. But he’s not the only unhelpful friend. Allie was supposed to clean up with me. She literally works here!”

“Huh.” Tucker licked his lips in thought.

He picked up a stack of boxes, “Well, I have to get these home myself. Do you need a ride?”

“I promised Della I’d clean up,” you replied.

“You sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

You shrugged, “I’ll be fine, Tuck. Drive safe.”

Tucker nodded and bid goodbye before leaving the diner.

By the time you finished fixing up the place, flipping chairs over tables, and mopping the floor clean, the bell chimed again.

“We’re closed,” you called out as you tied a garbage bag shut.

A pair of familiar arms wrapped around your torso from behind you. “No late night service?” Logan’s voice tickled your ear.

You stood up straight and leaned back into him before remembering you were supposed to be mad at him.

You pulled back and turned to him, “How was your date?”

Logan let out a wistful sigh, “Amazing. You know, I might need to ask her out again.”

You pinched his arm. He winced.

Logan leaned in and held your hips, “I’m kidding. You’re the only girl I want.” He murmured as he pressed a kiss against your forehead.

That soothed your jealousy a bit. “What did you two do?”

He hummed in thought. “Took her to Spoons, got ice cream, sat at a table and talked about you, drove back—”

“Wait, wait,” you stopped him. “Talked about me?”

Logan’s lips tugged upwards, “Yeah, we talked about you. Like the whole time.”

“Why?” You were so perplexed.

He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear and responded, “Amala’s an exchange student. She shares a class with you. She’s been wanting to befriend you since the semester started but she didn’t know how to talk to you. So…she enlisted my help.”

You blinked a few times. “She went out with you…to ask you how she could be my friend?”

“Yeah. Sweet, right?”

“Oh my god, I feel like an asshole,” you breathed out.

Logan pulled you closer, “You’re not an asshole, baby.”

“I was cussing her out in my head for the past 2 hours!”

He chuckled, “I think that’s valid.”

“It’s not! I shouldn’t have judged so soon. Fuck, I feel so bad.” You started to spiral.

Before Logan could calm you down and reassure you, the bell rang again. You both turned to the door and saw Amala stepping in.

“Hey,” she shared a polite smile. “Logan, you left your wallet.” She handed it back to him.

“Oh, I didn’t even notice.” He took it from her hands. “Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”

She smiled with a small nod. Her eyes flicked to me. Amala mustered up some courage and said, “Logan said so many nice things about you. No wonder he loves you so much.”

Your guilt boiled over and settled into soft mush at that. “He’s…too kind.”

Logan rolled his eyes fondly and pulled you closer to him.

Amala smiled again then spoke, “We…we share an econ class together. The 10 am with Prof. Singh?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I’m in that class.” You didn’t want to tell her that you hadn’t noticed her before.

Amala nodded back, “Yeah…I think you’re pretty cool. And smart. Do you maybe wanna study together for the final exam this weekend?”

Your lips eased into a soft, genuine smile. “I’d love that, yeah.”

Amala’s eyes gleamed with excitement and relief. “Yeah? Great, that’s…” she cleared her throat to control herself and appear nonchalant. “Cool. Logan has my number, he can share that with you.”

“Will do,” Logan swore solemnly.

She waved goodbye and started heading towards the door, “Alright, text me! It was lovely meeting you both!”

And then she was gone.

You turned back to Logan. He had a smug, ‘I told you so’ smirk on his face. You rolled your eyes and shoved him. “Shut it.”

He buried his face in your hair, “Looks like you have an admirer.”

“Why, jealous?” You teased.

Logan’s brows lifted. “Me? Look who’s talking. You wanted to skin me alive a few hours ago.”

He wasn’t exactly wrong.

“God forbid a girl doesn’t want to see her boyfriend go out with someone else.”

Logan kissed your temple, “It was for a good cause,” he said softly.

“I know,” you squeezed his hand. You knew how much the hurricanes meant to Logan ever since he was a kid himself.

“So…” He pulled you closer to him until your foreheads rested against one another. “How much for me to take you out on a date?”

Your eyes looked deep into his, “Hmm, how much have you got?”

Logan pretended to think about it. “If Amala didn’t rob me before returning my wallet, I should have 60 bucks and a punch card for free cheesy fries.”

You faked a delighted gasp, “How romantic!”

He chuckled at your comment before kissing you. His lips moved smoothly over yours, his kiss felt like a breath of relief after the long and busy evening. He held your chin in one hand, using the other to pull you even closer.

You separated for a moment to murmur, “Next year we’re sticking to signed hockey merch.”

Logan grinned, “Good luck trying to convince Dean of that.”

“He needs a girlfriend.”

He hummed, “And for $1800 and an hour, he might already have one.”

You laughed, taking his hand and tugging him out of Malone’s. “Come on, time for my own date with you.”

“You’re the boss,” he murmured with a kiss on your cheek.

And maybe it was best if you didn’t know that Logan purposely ‘forgot’ his wallet at the ice cream shop.

The lab is quiet when you enter, two lone lamps alight on the desks tucked in the far corner of the room. Shifting the tray of cups to your other hand, you turn on the dim overhead lights that circle the room so you can see to navigate past the devices and examination tables.

“Barry?” you call when you reach your desk.

Silence. Sighing, you set the drink you got him on his desk, then walk out of the lab again to find your favourite coworker. Since you started working as a forensic lab tech for the Central City Police Department, you’ve become a part of Barry’s family. In fact, you had dinner with his family just last weekend and received no less than fifteen memes from Wally over the weekend. Rather than a career, you found a life in Central City.

“Looking for Allen?” one of the officers in the bullpen asks when you rise to your tiptoes to look around. “He’s on his way back from a scene.”

“Thanks,” you reply.

Back in the lab, you work on some reports you didn’t finish last week and clean the microscope Barry prefers. Within ten minutes, you’re squinting against the bright overhead lights when Barry returns.

“Why is Wally asking me what time you get off work on Friday?” Barry asks.

“Because of you,” you reply, blinking to adjust your vision. “You introduced us and we got close, so we hang out now. I have this weird thing where I don’t stay on my phone while I’m at work and he gets impatient waiting for me to answer.”

Barry sighs as he slides an evidence box onto a sterile metal table. “I told him 6.”

“I get off at 4,” you remind him.

“Yeah, but we have that… that thing,” he murmurs.

“Oh!” you exclaim, nodding. Barry asked you to stay late to look at something he found during a fight with Captain Cold and Fridays tend to be the least busy day for the lab. “Right. Thank you.”

“Allen, we need you,” a detective says, standing in the doorway. He glances at you, seems to weigh his options, then points and adds, “You too.”

“She has a name,” Barry points out.

“I know her name,” the detective snaps. “But we just got a call from Blüdhaven PD asking for help with a case, so I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“BPD asked for assistance?” you clarify. “I thought they were pretty shut off and didn’t like collaborating.”

“They usually don’t,” the detective agrees, leading you through the station. “Apparently they caught a scene this morning nearly identical to that museum robbery here last month.”

“The unsolved one?” Barry checks.

“Yeah. We never recovered the stolen items, and no one came close to identifying a suspect. It was — pardon the pun — colder than Captain Cold.”

“Not exactly a pun,” you murmur to Barry. “What do you need us to do, Detective?”

“I’m hoping they’ll have evidence the two of you can use to finally figure out what’s going on.”

“BPD is willing to let us dig in their scene?” Barry wonders. “This must be worse than you’re letting on.”

The detective slows at the door, frighteningly somber as he admits, “It isn’t good.”

Wally whistles as he walks, reading the message from Barry before he notices you haven’t even viewed everything he sent you yet. He’ll have to ask you why you’re ignoring him the next time you see each other. He knows you aren’t really ignoring him, but it’s more fun this way. If Barry didn’t warn you what you were getting into by becoming Wally’s friend, it’s clearly Barry’s fault.

Wally slows when he turns onto a side street, his whistles dying as no fewer than fifteen cop cars come into view. The Blüdhaven Museum of Art is taped off, and patrol officers won’t let the press within a hundred feet of the sidewalk. More interesting, Wally finds, is the presence of a CCPD car. It’s not a terribly long way from Blüdhaven, but police collaboration between the departments hasn’t occurred ever that Wally can remember.

“Interesting,” Wally muses to himself.

He continues down the sidewalk, watching the officers and the suit-clad men he presumes are detectives mill about. Only when he sees two familiar figures wearing paper suits exiting the building does he pause again. He should have known that if the CCPD got involved in this, they’d send their best. You and Barry are talking to each other as you carry your field tool kits to the large white van at the curb.

“Barry!” Wally calls, waving excitedly.

You smile and take Barry’s case so he can duck below the yellow tape and meet Wally on the other side of the street. After stowing your things in the van, you follow Barry’s path and join them.

“Hi,” you greet.

“Oh, now you pay attention to me?” Wally demands. “I thought you were too good for me.”

“I was at work, Wally,” you remind him. “And I don’t have the same infallibility as Barry. You don’t want me to get fired for looking at a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle saying ‘cowabummer’ in the Backrooms, do you?”

“So, you did look at it!” Wally exclaims, pointing at you.

“Dude, that was a guess,” you mutter. “Did you actually send me that? Where did you find something like that?”

“Don’t hate my reaction meme game, I’m just a humble playa,” Wally responds, lifting his hands in surrender.

“I… I’m so tired,” Barry utters.

“Wait,” Wally demands. “I just had an idea.”

“You’re about to be more tired,” you warn Barry.

“I age fifteen years every time he has an idea,” Barry groans, looking up at the clouds above you.

“No, this is my best idea yet,” Wally defends.

“That’s what you said when you encouraged me to hunt someone for sport,” you remind him.

“I’m going to set you up on a date,” Wally announces, completely ignoring your previous comment.

“Pass,” you and Barry say together.

“What? Why do you care?” Wally asks Barry.

“Kid,” Barry sighs, and, somehow, that says it all.

“Okay, so the guy I have in mind is great. He’s a cop here in Blüd, and he’s genuinely a great guy. His name’s Dick Grayson,” Wally continues. “He’s from Gotham and—”

“Stop,” you interrupt, raising a hand. Softly, you explain, “I know Dick.”

“Oh!” Wally bounces in place, clapping his hands together. “So, you’re already together?”

“Uh, no,” you mutter, rubbing your opposite arm. “We… We don’t exactly get along.”

“What? How is that possible?”

“Wally,” Barry says. He shakes his head, then taps your arm to encourage you to get back to work. Alone with Wally, he offers, “Sometimes a statement is reason enough. Don’t push your friends away by trying to do something they don’t want.”

“Right,” Wally agrees.

He watches Barry return to the van and whisper something to you. You smile and nod, then get back to work. How can you be so close with Barry and Wally, and their Flash and Kid Flash counterparts, but not get along with Dick Grayson?

“Dick,” Wally says when the call connects. “Can I come back over? … Yes, I know I just left, but we need to talk.”

“We only realized it mirrored your museum case because of the VICAP report,” the head detective for the Blüdhaven Police informs you. “Was yours just the one?”

“Just the museum,” the CCPD detective answers. “Our lab techs know more about the methods and actual process of the crime.”

“This isn’t our first case with this MO.”

“There have been others?” Barry asks, glancing toward you to confirm that he didn’t know. Wally was here last night when the museum was broken into but didn’t find anything. He hadn’t mentioned any other similar break-ins, even after the museum job in Central City last month.

“We didn’t really piece it together right away,” the detective explains. “The other burglaries were in residential areas or small businesses, but the way he gets in, the pattern inside, it matches.”

“So, it’s a true serial offender,” you add. “Not just someone targeting museums.”

“If they started with homes and small businesses and have graduated to museums, this may not be the end,” Barry realizes. “What are the odds he’s gearing up for a bigger job?”

“Which is why we need to apprehend this criminal,” the Blüdhaven detective replies.

Your supervisory detective looks at you to ask, “Did you put the case info in VICAP?”

“I did,” Barry interjects. “A museum theft of that magnitude with no evidence left behind felt practiced, so I wanted to see if there were similar cases. They didn’t have anything for us at the time.”

“I’m sorry, I should have brushed up on the reports.”

You look at Barry, silently communicating that this is the first time a detective has ever apologized to you. “Is there evidence from the other break-ins?” you inquire.

“There is,” the detective affirms. “I can call the detective who worked the first couple and have him walk you through what we found.”

“That would be great,” Barry responds. He takes you back to the van and mutters, “I thought this would be a quick yep, it’s the same guy and we’d be back home.”

“It’s weird,” you hum. “No heroes know anything about this?”

“I’ll ask around, but nothing I know of. Wally texted me last night about the museum but it’s the first I’ve heard.”

“Can you help me look for something?” you request. “It’s just a hunch.”

“Most great discoveries start with a hunch.”

Wally barges into Dick’s apartment without knocking, slams the door behind him, and simply says your name as he stares at Dick.

“What about her?” Dick questions, brushing his fingers through his hair.

“So, you do know her,” Wally confirms. “Tell me everything, Robbie.”

“Not much to tell.” Dick stands and walks toward the kitchen as he lists, “We met on the job; she was a cop, a really good one. Then she left to work at CCPD, and we haven’t spoken again since.”

“She was BPD?” Wally clarifies. “And she just left? You don’t know why?”

Dick slows, staring at a line in the countertop. He tells Wally a lot — he is his best friend, after all — but Dick hasn’t told anyone what happened between you and him. Not that he doesn’t care or hasn’t thought about it. The memory of your face when you left the final time, the way you looked like you wanted to say more but knew Dick wouldn’t listen, has haunted him nightly since then.

“Because of me,” Dick admits quietly. “She left and locked herself in a lab because of me.”

Wally sighs and falls backward over Dick’s couch. Dragging his hands down his face, he requests, “Elaborate, pretty boy?”

“Okay, one, stop listening to Jason,” Dick calls from the kitchen. “And two, why does it matter? You trying to get with her?”

“Nope.”

“You only answered half the question, Walls.”

“And you didn’t answer mine at all.”

Wally pushes himself up to glare at Dick. They look at each other for several breaths, waiting for the other to give up. It’s a no-win game because they’re both stubborn. Yet Dick drops his shoulders and sighs.

“I said something I shouldn’t have,” Dick remembers, looking out the window rather than watching Wally’s reaction to his confession. “I… I made her doubt herself and her abilities. She went from being an incredible cop to second-guessing everything she knew because of me. The next morning, I found out she’d quit the force here and went to CCPD to work with Barry.”

“And you haven’t spoken to her since you said whatever it is you said?” Wally checks.

“No. I wanted to reach out. I should have.”

“Yeah,” Wally agrees flatly. “But you’re stupid.”

Dick doesn’t argue. He’s beat himself up for that night so many times that there is very little Wally could say now to make him feel worse.

“But,” Wally begins slowly, “if you still believe in her and what she can do, maybe you could show her that now.”

“How?” Dick wonders.

“Oh, you don’t know? She and Barry are here in town working a case with your pals at BPD.”

“Which case?”

“The museum robbery.”

Dick’s phone buzzes in his pocket, a text from the head of the detectives distracting him from Wally. Wally’s idea that you could help and Dick could apologize might not be so far-fetched.

“I have to go,” Dick murmurs, reaching for his coat.

“If you get married and have babies, you gotta name one Wally!” Wally calls after him. Alone in Dick’s apartment, he wonders, “What snacks does the Boy Wonder keep stocked?”

Dick arrives at the Blüdhaven Museum of Art in record time. He scans the crowd outside until he spots you. You’re smiling at Barry as you compare something on your matching clipboards, and Dick suddenly realizes the extent of what he did. He didn’t just lose the joy of seeing you every day; he missed seeing how you’ve grown, all you’ve learned, and how excited you get when you figure something out. You were on track to be a better detective than Batman, and you trusted Dick — he ruined both aspects of your relationship in a single night.

You look up while Dick lingers by his car, your smile falling as you wave at him. Grumbling to himself, Dick approaches you, Barry, and the team from CCPD.

“I’m Detective Dick Grayson,” he greets. “I worked the first three burglaries in what we think is the same case.”

“Residential and small business burglaries?” a detective checks.

“Yes, sir. We were able to confidently decide that the crimes were connected and very likely perpetrated by the same suspect but never identified him or her.”

“This museum robbery looks just like the one in Central City,” you offer. “Any idea why your guy left Blüdhaven for a night?”

Dick blows out a breath and admits, “No clue. If you want, I can take you to the first scene and show you the physical evidence we collected.”

You look at Barry, hoping that he’ll agree to go so you don’t have to be alone with Dick Grayson. It’s been a while, but the hurt of what he said to you back then is still there, burrowed just beneath the surface so that every time you think you’re better, it pricks you again.

“You should go,” Barry encourages. “If there’s anything to find, you can find it. I’d like to look into the cameras and how they were deactivated.”

“I… Okay,” you answer, your shoulders slumping as you step toward Dick. “I’ll let you know what I see.”

Dick smiles at you again, then follows you toward his car. He silently hopes that you’ll start some sort of meaningless conversation, but you look out the window and remain silent. When he parks outside an inconspicuous home in a nice neighborhood several miles from the museum, you exit the car and pull a fresh pair of gloves on.

“I can wait outside, if you want,” Dick offers after he explains the situation to the homeowners.

“Whatever you want,” you respond with a shrug.

Dick slumps further, if that’s possible, and follows you into the house. You accept the tablet he offers you, comparing the CSI report to what you see before you now.

“How many homes?” you ask.

“Uh, five total,” Dick answers. “I worked the first three, then another detective took over and worked the other two, as well as the three businesses that were targeted.”

“All identical to this one?”

“Essentially. The other reports are in that folder if you want to check. Good chance I missed something.”

You look at the next report, then return his tablet and squat to look at a vent on the wall.

“I’m sorry,” Dick says suddenly.

“For what?” you ask as you jostle the side of the vent cover.

“I never should have said that about you. It wasn’t true.”

You still, forcing yourself not to turn and look at him. Rather than responding, you shrug and try to focus on determining if this was tampered with.

“Maybe… maybe I was threatened by what you could do and lashed out. Or I was trying to protect you and said it all wrong. Whatever the reason was, it doesn’t really matter because I said it and I knew it would hurt you. I truly didn’t mean it.”

“Detective Grayson,” you interrupt as you stand. “It’s fine. I’m happy in the CCPD lab. I’m happy in Central City. I’m happy with Barry and Wally and the other friends I’ve made.”

Dick nods, swallowing so hard it hurts his neck. “So… you and Wally?” he questions.

“No. Just me. And just Wally.” You finally look at him, your expression flat as you ask, “Remember how you said I wasn’t great at playing with others? Turns out, you were right.”

“No, no, I wasn’t,” Dick insists, stepping forward and trapping you in the corner between the wall and the upholstered chair beside you. “I was selfish and angry and upset that you didn’t see me and everything I couldn't say!”

You try to move backward but collide with the wall. “What is that supposed to mean?” you question quietly as something shifts in your eyes.

“Excuse me?” the homeowner calls from the kitchen. “Could I get you anything, detectives? Water, a snack?”

“Uh, no thank you, ma’am,” Dick answers, backing away from you. “I think we have what we need.”

“We do,” you agree. “I’m sorry for the intrusion but thank you for letting me look around. I actually have one question if you don’t mind?”

“Of course,” she replies.

You point to the vent and ask, “Has that been loose in the past? Or was it worked on prior to the break-in?”

“No, it’s never been loose that I or my husband have noticed. He does work around the house quite often, and we actually painted in here recently, and it was secure when we taped it off.”

“Okay, that’s helpful. Thank you again.”

She nods and waves as you slide into Dick’s car, the silence settling between you heavier than it was before.

“I’ll run the tests on this,” Barry assures the lead detectives, holding up the small metal scrap you collected from the air vent cover. “Shouldn’t take too long, if you have a lab I can use.”

An officer exits the conference room to show Barry to the lab, leaving you and Dick alone against the back wall. Within a few minutes, the day’s briefing is over, and you are free to go to the hotel room CCPD paid for in case anything in the case broke during the night.

“Wait,” Dick requests when you’re dismissed.

You hesitate, but listen, lingering a few feet away from him until you’re the only people in the room.

“Please come over,” he says. “I want to apologize, to tell you more. Please.”

“You already apologized,” you remind him.

Dick steps forward and reaches for your hand, then drags his palm along his pants instead. “Please,” he begs softly, something broken beneath the single word. “Please come over. We can- we can just talk.”

“Fine,” you agree.

Dick rushes around his living room, fluffing pillows and gathering the empty cans and snack wrappers Wally left strewn across the coffee table. He’s being incredibly awkward; your heart betrays you by finding it endearing and your face betrays you further by showing it with a smile. You lift your hand to hide it and wait until Dick disappears into the kitchen to speak.

“How are your brothers?” you inquire, tapping a blanket on the back of his couch.

“Annoying,” Dick grumbles. “But fine.”

“Gotham still standing?”

Dick chuckles as he returns, wringing his fingers together. “Mostly.” He nods, watching you closely. He’d forgotten how well you know him. Despite him pushing you away and keeping him from learning anything more about you, you remember.

“And the night shift?” you check. “Staying safe?”

Dick sighs, nodding as he leans on the back of the couch, mere feet from you.

“Can I tell you something?” you murmur.

“Anything,” Dick encourages, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I regretted not becoming part of your life when I had the opportunity,” you confess. “I spent a lot of time wondering if things would have been different if I’d become your friend after I found out you were Nightwing instead of just promising not to tell anyone.”

“Why… why didn’t you?”

You shrug, pinching the soft blanket between your fingers. “I think that I was scared I’d end up losing you.”

“And I pushed you away,” Dick sighs. “I was wrong, I need you to know that. And I don’t know what made me say it, but I don’t think that. You were never anything but kind to me, and you clearly have a way of making friends with everyone you meet. I mean, Wally and Barry are surprisingly picky about who they let close and you’re part of the family, so you do play well with others.”

“Thank you,” you murmur. “But you aren’t the only one that pushed. I was scared of what being around you made me feel so I kept you at arms’ length. I do think we could have been friends if I wasn’t so immature about it all.”

“You weren’t immature. I'm the one that resorted to bullying because I was scared of my own feelings.”

“You know Wally tried to set me up with you?” you ask, smiling when your eyes meet. “He told me all about this friend of his that would change my world and show me what it was like to fall in love.”

Dick chuckles, suddenly closer to you when he says, “He sells me well.”

There’s a press conference in progress on the front steps of the precinct while you’re bent over a microscope searching for signs of arsenic poisoning in a hair sample. You and Barry found the proverbial smoking gun that cracked the arduous case of the serial burglar in a metal scrap that not only hinted at the age of the suspect but ultimately identified him as a member of an armed ‘anti-history’ group. You weren’t even aware that ‘anti-history’ was a thing, but working in a police department teaches you weird things about people and the lengths they’ll go to.

Barry is chronicling the evidentiary findings for the press, and you were more than happy to let him be the one to go out there while you remain in your dim haven.

“You’re still too good at what you do,” someone says from the doorway.

Straightening, you move away from the microscope and blink twice before you can make out Dick Grayson’s features.

“Well, when my beauty and talent are hidden from the public and my adoring fans can’t distract me, it’s easier,” you play along.

Dick chuckles as he walks into the lab, focused entirely on you and not the array of devices or evidence bags organized on the tables.

“As one of those fans, I’ve gotta ask,” he hums, “who’s that easier for?”

You smile at Dick when he stops at your side. He brushes his fingers over your temple, then along your jaw.

“How’d you find me?” you whisper.

“I’d say I followed my heart, but someone told me where the lab was,” he replies.

You’re still smiling when you push yourself against him and kiss him. He responds immediately, as if he expected this to happen when he left Blüdhaven this morning. The soft texture of his sweater and the way his hands effortlessly find your waist make you think maybe he did.

“FINALLY!” Wally screams, scaring you and Dick apart.

You raise a hand to your chest as you take a deep breath, staring at Wally as he rushes forward to hug both you and Dick.

“I take full credit, by the way,” Wally cheers.

“But we already—” Dick begins.

“Mm-mm, no. You’re welcome.”

Dick looks past Wally, holding your gaze as he says, “Thank you.”

Wally steps back, talking about how Barry has a female journalist eating from his palm as you step forward and lean against Dick’s side.

“I’m really sorry,” Dick whispers.

“Stop apologizing,” you murmur, tipping your chin toward him. “Show me how good I am at playing with others?”

Dick smiles and meets you halfway, finding an easy rhythm with you as you kiss. When Wally realizes that you aren’t listening to you, he yells, “You’re welcome!” once more and then groans when Dick waves for him to leave.

Dick Grayson Taglist🏷️ @peachescastles @stilestotherescue @ilocuras24 @coastalcowgirlie @waltermis @itzpixiebabe @marywantsttobattle @seriousaliysa @freeforalways @lortheswiftie

And if there was one thing that he learnt, it was that you were chaos.

Not in the loud kind of way that left you with a reputation. 

It was this way that knew how to keep Logan on his feet 24/7 with you.

𝟏 “𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝,”

You were in your dorm with Allie and Hannah doing fit checks as Logan sat on your couch watching. 

He promised to take the three of you to your girls night booking as he liked making sure that you were safe. 

Hannah stood in the frame of your phone as she looked at what she was wearing “so this is actually all from their closests.” She laughed as she did a little twirl. 

You laughed as you shook your head “your shoes are yours!” You corrected as Hannah nodded “yeah these are all mine.” 

The brunette pointed to her sneakers before she pulled you into the frame “the skirt I stole from Allie and the shirt is from brandy.” A smirk spread across your face as Hannah motioned to Logan to join you in your shot. 

Logan wrapped his hand around your waist “I’ve dressed my current boyfriend today in fact.” His arm tensed around your waist. 

He turned to you with a confused expression “your current boyfriend?” He reiterated your words as you nodded with a smile. 

Hannah and Allie giggled from beside your phone “are you planning on getting another one in the future?” Logan scoffed as you caught your lower lip between your teeth trying to swallow your own laughter. 

You ran your fingers down his shirt “hey as they say the night is still young,” you teased as you pulled your attention back to the camera. 

You did everything to not laugh “wow never in my life have I been so offended.” That broke the girls as they were now losing it on the other side of the camera. 

That made Logan clock what was going on “I hate you.” He grumbled as he shook his head making you laugh as well.

You grinned as you cupped his jaw “you love me.” You mumbled as he stuck his tongue out before he kissed you. 

Allie crossed her arms “you better not try to keep her tonight.” Her warning made Logan shake his head.

He laughed as he let his hand settle on your waist “oh no this one is your problem tonight.” He announced as he patted your hip.

𝟐 “𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫?”

You were sat on Logan’s bed as he came out of the bathroom “baby can you call my phone f’me? I can’t find it.” He had a towel wrapped around his waist. 

You nodded as you threw your phone to the bottom of his bed as you looked up from your laptop. He used your password to unlock it before he typed in his number.

Then he frowned

“Wait.”

You  barely looked up “what?” You cocked your head as he sat down on the foot of his bed. 

He turned your phone to face you “why am I saved as John Logan in your phone?” He furrowed his eyebrows as it got your attention.

You placed your laptop next to you as you leaned up to sit closer to him “because that’s your name silly.” You rested your chin against his shoulder.

Logan laughed as the sensation made his squirm “yeah but that’s so formal.” He whined as his lips formed a pout. 

You actually laughed at the sight “you want me to save you as Prince Charming or something?” You proposed as he thought about it seriously for a second.

And then he nodded.

“Maybe I should just save you as an unknown number?”

There was a pause before he shook his head “you’re just mean.” You laughed as you stood up.

You shrugged, “it’s more mysterious.” As you wriggled your eyebrows, Logan pulled you onto his lap.

“You’re one update away from me blocking you.” 

His warning made you laugh as you stuck your tongue out at him.

You smiled, leaned in, and kissed his cheek before you grabbed your phone from his hand. 

You were quick to type something before you showed it to him “happy?” 

‘𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗 𝙻𝚘𝚐𝚊𝚗’ 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜 ‘𝙼𝚢 𝙼𝚊𝚗 💙’

“Very.”

𝟑 “𝐈’𝐦 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠,”

You were at practice, sitting in the bleachers in his hoodie, legs swinging as you watched the guys skate drills.

He came out of the locker room as he had his bag slung over his shoulder.

His breath was heavy, hair messy, looking annoyingly good in that effortless way that always made you forget your point for a second.

But not this time.

You pointed vaguely pointed to the group of lower-class men behind Logan “the guy with the dark hair,” you said casually “he’s kind of my type.”

John didn’t even turn around “you mean Carter.” His face turned into a sharp scowl as he heard the younger boys making a joke behind him. 

You nodded as you slotted your phone into the pocket of your hoodie “yep.” You had to admit that if you were a freshman and single, you genuinely would have thought that the dude was hot. 

He looked like a younger version of Logan which is why you found this so funny “you don’t even know him.” Logan deeply inhaled through his nostrils as he grumbled.

You shrugged as you licked your lips “I am just saying,”that’s when he slowly turned his head toward you.

Logan sucked at his teeth “you’re joking right?” He was practically weighing up the cost of what his bail money would be if he hit Carter.

You shrugged, “am I?” There was a beat of silence.

Then he stopped walking “that’s it.” He announced as he shook his head 

“What?”

Logan sharpened his gaze back to the younger teammates “we’re leaving. I’m transferring teams. Maybe we’re moving countries.”You laughed as he hoisted you over his shoulder making you squeal.

He started walking the two of you out of the rink “you are a nightmare god.” He was genuinely considering relocating his entire life out of spite.

Or possibly throttling Carter into fear to avoid you for the rest of his life.

Carter never found out he was nearly responsible for a national hockey scandal.

𝟒 “𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞,”

After Dean swore that you and Logan were the worst when it came to PDA. 

And as you had a thing for proving the blonde boy wrong, you set yourself up on a challenge. 

You wanted to see just how long it would take Logan to realise if you swiped his kisses. 

Dean believed that Logan wouldn’t make it past 5 pm but you decided to back your boyfriend more than that “but you can’t avoid him all day then!” Dean pointed out as he watched Logan walk into the cafeteria. 

You smiled as you got up “luckily for me I have a class in ten minutes.” You shot back as you stuck your tongue out at the blonde. 

Logan dropped his bag into the seat where you were just sitting “hey pretty girl.” Logan smiled as he leaned down to kiss your lips. 

You swerved letting his lips grazed your cheek “hey babe I gotta go!” You patted his cheek before you ran off. 

It left Logan a little confused as he watched you run off “that was a little weird right?” Logan motioned to you as your body disappeared into the crowd. 

Dean shook his head as he ate a carrot stick “not a clue what you’re talking about.” The second rule that you two came up with was that, neither one of you could hint that there was a bet going on. 

By the time 2 pm came around Logan was waiting outside of your building after class “hey there princess.” Logan walked towards you with a smile as he reached for your hand. 

You matched his facial expression as you leaned up to kiss him before you remembered what was going on “hi handsome.” You awkwardly shifted into giving him a hug. 

As Logan patted your back, he almost wondered if he was just dreaming “the guys are waiting back at the house.” His announcement came as he mentally went through the previous events of the day as he was concerned he pissed you off. 

You pulled away with a smile “perfect,” you squeezed his hand “shall we go?” You asked as you cocked your head. 

Dean watched how you dodged Logan throughout the next few hours. 

If you were any decent with a pair of skates, Dean would have proposed that he got you on the team. With the way you had been side stepping Logan, it was almost impressive. 

Logan however, lacked the sentiment as you excused yourself to go to the bathroom “is it just me or is she being weird?” Logan spoke up as Dean celebrated.

But his cheering fell short when he realised that it was in fact 5:01 pm, what made your boyfriend even more confused was that you were running down the stairs cheering. While Dean sat with his head in his hands. 

The brunette motioned between the two of you “okay what is going on between the two of you?” Logan asked as you marched over to him.

Your hands cupped his cheeks “god I love you.” You pulled him into a kiss that was so strong the two of you actually fell onto the couch. 

Logan wasn’t going to complain as his hands steadied himself on your waist “god I hate it when she’s right.” Dean’s grumble was enough to make Logan pull away from you. 

He cocked his head, making you sigh, “we had a bet that if I didn’t kiss you, you couldn’t last until five PM before you brought it up.” Your announcement made him laugh. 

Logan stood up as he pulled you up with him “so that’s why you didn’t kiss me,” he spoke as he cocked his head. 

You nodded now feeling somewhat bad until Logan wrapped his arms around your waist “if you boys will excuse us, we have some making out to catch up on.” His eyes flickered with mischief as the boys groaned. 

Garrett shook his head “turn that up so we drown them out.” He grumbled, tapping Tucker’s shoulder as he pointed to the tv while Logan led you upstairs.

𝟓 “𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞?”

You were sat in the kitchen as Tucker cooked dinner for the group. 

Logan was propped up on the counter as Garrett sat next to you “oh my god babe you wanna know what I saw?” You asked as Logan nodded. 

He snatched a freshly cut carrot from Tucker’s chopping board, making the younger boy swat his hand away “Dean is on hinge!” Your announcement made all three boys freeze. 

While Tucker and Garrett looked at each other, a little confused why you were on that app. Logan seemed far more curious to know what kind of prompts Dean had picked “wait show.” Logan motioned to you to hand him your phone.

When you smiled both other boys laughed finally catching onto what you were doing “nah I didn’t take a picture of it because I was so shocked, I just had to press close on his profile.” You swore your boyfriend must not have heard you properly.

But Logan shook his head “you can’t tell me that you found his profile and then not show me!” The boy whined as he walked over to you. 

His hands wrapped around your shoulders as he rested his head against yours “c’mon babe.” He dragged out the last letter of the last word making you grin. 

Logan pressed a kiss into your hair “this is just cruel and unusu-” he cut himself off as he stood up straight. 

Garrett stood up as he reached for his phone seeing that he was meant to meet Hannah for dinner “bingo.” He patted Logan’s shoulder before he left. 

Logan cocked his head as he looked at you “why are you on hinge?” He turned your body towards him. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to hold back a laugh “I just like to see who is single.” You nodded to yourself, earning a laugh from Garrett before he left the room. 

Your boyfriend cocked his head as he furrowed his eyebrows, “so is your profile like just you or?” He trailed off making you scoff “John Logan do you seriously think that I’m on a dating app to find us a throuple?” 

Your words made Tucker cough as he packed up, laughing “I mean you’ve always said you wanted to try something.” Logan shrugged as he kissed your cheek. 

You scoffed as you gasped, “yeah like positions in your bed, not who is gonna watch.” Tucker had opted to slowly slip out of the room as he was no longer interested in listening to this conversation. 

Logan tucked your hair behind your ear “who said anything about them watching?” His smirk strengthened as your cheeks reddened. 

It wasn’t often that you were speechless but in this moment you actually didn’t know what to say “should I be concerned that you actually seemed turned on by this?” You cocked your head as you pursed your lips together.

Your boyfriend laughed as he shook his head “you’re the one finding my friends on hinge.” Logan taunted as he pinched your side. 

You rolled your eyes “I don’t have a damn hinge account!” You groaned making him smile.

Logan wrapped his arms around you as you stood “good,” he mumbled as he pecked your lips “for the record I like having you all to myself.”

+ 𝟏 “𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝,”

The group was all in the living room as the boys played the NHL video game in the tv while Logan and you were on a beanbag “thanks.” He sent you a smile as he pulled you on top of him as you handed him a water bottle. 

He pressed a kiss against your cheek making you grin “you two make me sick.” Garrett gagged seeing the two of you from the corner of his eye. 

It made you laugh as you stuck your tongue out at him “oh babe?” Logan spoke up as he scrolled on his phone. 

You turned back to face him “my ex texted me today.” He spoke casually, still not looking at you. 

You blinked slowly as your throat constricted “your what?” Your face turned as if you had just eaten a lemon.

You hadn’t noticed that the boys paused the tv to focus on you both as you were too concerned, and kept scrolling on his phone.

“Ex.”

You stared at him like he had grown three heads “for what?” You didn’t want to jump to conclusions but in that moment, you were teetering on the edge. 

Logan shrugged “she was checking in.”You felt your face go flat as there was little left in your reserve to bite your tongue.

Part of you wondered if when you went to the kitchen to get water, if you were dropped in some alternate universe “oh, that’s sweet,” you said slowly, your body tensed as you prepared your next question “did you reply?” It felt like a penny could have dropped in that moment and it would have echoed through the house.

He shrugged as he bounced his foot “yeah,” there was silence as you sat up a little.

Tucker swore he watched you crack your knuckles a little “you replied.” You couldn’t miss the scowl on your face as you rolled your eyes.

“Mhm.”

Now he looked at you, like he was trying not to smile “and what did you say?” You struggled to understand what rock Logan had hit his head with to assume that you’d be totally fine with him chatting all to his ex like it was nothing. 

He leaned back running his fingers through his hair “I just said hi,” he shrugged as you finally scoffed because that was it.

Something in you snapped instantly “oh, perfect,” you said, standing up “that’s great. I love that. So glad we’re doing this.”

“Doing what?”

You grabbed your bag as you stopped to look at him“whatever this is. Whatever situation I’ve apparently been invited into.” Part of you didn’t know if you were about to commit murder or just burst into tears.

Now he was definitely smiling “you’re jealous.” He pointed out as he stood up crossing his arms in the process.

Your lips formed a sharp line “I’m not jealous.” You grumbled as it made you stop what you were doing.

Logan looked at your bag “you’re literally packing up your things.” Half the stuff that you had thrown into it was stuff that you used to just leave at the house. 

Dean had to admit he didn’t think that you had so many chargers at theirs “I’m going home.” You corrected Logan as you rolled your eyes.

“With my hoodie.”

A wicked laugh escaped your lips “oh you won’t need it where you’re going,” you snapped and that finally broke him.

He laughed like actually laughed and it was enough to make you clench your teeth.

And still he laughed again “babe,” he said, still grinning, “I don’t have an ex.”

You froze as your hands landed on your hips as your bag fell to the floor “huh?” You cocked your head as you were trying to keep the words that came out of your mouth appropriate.

“I made it up.”

You stared at him for a full five seconds and the boys swore that Logan must have gone too far “you are so dead,” you went to hit his chest but instead he pulled you into his arms.

He kissed your knuckles, still laughing “karma is a bitch huh?” Logan teased you as he ran his thumb over your cheek.

Dean rolled his eyes as he rubbed his knee “you two make me sick.” He fake gagged as he shook his head. 

When Logan grabbed a pillow off of the couch and threw it at the blonde.

As you laughed, you knew that you couldn’t even stay mad for long.

Because John Logan looked way too happy watching you lose your mind over him.

And you hated that you liked that part the most.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Dick greets when he answers the phone.

“Where are you right now?” you inquire, ignoring his playful tone.

“Uh, home. Why?”

“Because I’m patrolling right now and just pulled your car over.”

Dick’s footsteps echo in your ear before he gasps. “He stole my car!”

Glancing down at your body-worn camera, you’re glad you didn’t put this call on speaker. “Mind elaborating?” you request.

Dick sighs before he mumbles, “My brother Jason is in town. He… he’s borrowing my car.”

“Okay,” you reply. “Just wanted to check. Registration and everything in it?”

“Yeah, should be. But feel free to take him to jail for something. He’s a menace.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you joke. “Have a good day.”

“Yeah, you, too. Hey, you need to come over soon.”

You hang up then, shaking your head as you slip your phone into your vest. With a deep breath, you open the door of your patrol car and look around the area. Dick’s brother – Jason, he said – was driving recklessly in an area that isn’t usually busy this time of day. You had been surprised to see Dick’s car, but the opportunity to meet one of the brothers he talks about is a nice bonus.

Stopping just behind the driver’s side window, where you can see the driver and his hands, you introduce yourself and ask for his license, registration, and proof of insurance.

“It’s my brother’s car,” Jason grumbles as he passes you the papers. He looks at you while you compare the name on his license to what’s on the registration, briefly wondering how someone like you became a cop.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell him. “Don’t run.”

“Ah, take all the fun out if, why don’t ya?” he jokes, smiling when you laugh. Something deep in his mind betrays him, mentally playing whoop, whoop that’s the sound of the police as he watches you walk in your patrol blues.

Back in your car, you roll your window down so you can hear your surroundings while you put Jason’s information and Dick’s VIN into the computer in your center console. Everything comes back clean – Dick’s registration and insurance are up-to-date, Jason doesn’t have any warrants or previous violations of any concern, and, after speaking to him, you don’t think he’s under the influence of anything. Still, you need to do your due diligence and encourage him to obey speed limits and be aware of his surroundings.

“Your brother’s a detective,” you say when you return to Jason’s window.

“He is,” Jason answers carefully. “You know him?”

“He crashes my movie nights,” you scoff.

“That sounds like Dick.”

“What are you doing in Blüdhaven?” you inquire, bending slightly to check that the backseat is empty.

“Just visiting my brother,” Jason answers. He rolls down the back window for you as he adds, “Needed a break from Gotham.”

“And where are you headed today?”

“The café that makes those band cookies.”

Nodding, you admit, “Those are pretty good. My radar had you going 60 in a 45, though, and this is an area with a lot of businesses, so people are walking, crossing the street, getting out of cars. You have to pay attention to your speed.”

“Sure,” he agrees. “I will.”

Glancing at Jason’s license, still in your hand, you notice that he has blue eyes. Dick has blue eyes too, though his look darker sometimes, appearing brown in certain light. You’re aware that they’re both adopted, yet there is a family resemblance.

“Have you been drinking today?” you check. There truly isn’t any reason to think he has been, but fifteen miles over the speed limit can be a sign of impairment, so you ask anyway.

“No, I haven’t,” Jason answers.

You nod, shifting closer to the window. “Would you mind pulling your sunglasses down for just a second so I can see your eyes?”

“Why?” he asks, even as he hooks a finger on one side of the frame and tugs the glasses down his nose.

Bending at your waist, you make eye contact with him, watching as his eyes remain steady on your face. His green eyes. Standing, you double-check his license. It says blue.

“Just making sure you’re awake and alert,” you answer.

“Right,” he drawls. “So, am I getting a ticket?”

Glancing at your watch, you decide, “I’m going to give you a verbal warning. I know there’s no traffic right now, but it’s no excuse to speed. Keep an eye on the speedometer.”

“Absolutely,” Jason agrees.

At that, you press the button at the base of your body cam, powering it off. Jason’s brows raise as he pushes his sunglasses up onto his head, bringing your attention to the streak of white hair near his temple.

“Your brother told me you’re a menace,” you admit.

“You talked to him?” Jason checks.

“I called when I realized this was his car. I was really hoping he wasn’t in it; I’ve seen one too many cops get arrested for DUIs and lose their jobs. Half the time they end up working security in Gotham after that.”

“At least they’re employed,” Jason says, shrugging. “Arkham’s work force is 90% disgraced cops anyway.”

“Think I could get a job there?” you ask, smiling.

“Could, yeah. Really shouldn’t.”

“What?” you exclaim. “I could totally be security for the mentally insane.”

“You’re too pretty for Arkham.”

“And you’re not?” you challenge.

Jason smiles brightly, looking up at you to reply, “You’re too pretty to be a cop in Blüdhaven, too.”

“Now you’re just flattering me,” you muse. “I already said I wasn’t writing you a ticket.”

“Maybe it’s not about the ticket, then.”

“Did Bruce Wayne teach all of you to flirt?”

Jason’s smile drops then, his fingers flexing around the steering wheel as he asks, “Are you and Dick…?”

“No, not at all,” you answer immediately. “We’re just friends.”

“Right,” he breathes out.

“If you and Dick are free one night before you go back to Gotham, we should do dinner.” You rush to add, “If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

Jason nods, and you shove his papers toward him before he can speak. You tell yourself it’s because you need to get going, but really, it’s because you’re scared he’s about to tell you he isn’t.

“I’ll have Dick text you,” he says after setting the papers aside. “Or I could get your number from him.”

“Whichever,” you agree. “Oh, and you should get your license updated.”

“Updated?” Jason repeats unsurely.

“Yeah, it says your eyes are blue.”

“Right.” Jason blinks several times before defending, “They shift colors. Sometimes they look blue, sometimes green… never know what color my eyes are, ya know?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. You lean forward then, bracing your arm on the car door. You pull your license from the pocket on the back of your phone case and offer it to Jason.

“I don’t—”

“Eyes,” you remind him, smiling when he forces himself to look away from you and at your license.

His gaze bounces back to you three times before he realizes what you’re saying. Your license doesn’t say green for your eye color either, but the same green that clouds his irises colors yours. You pinch the license between your fingers and nod as you take it back.

“Enjoy Blüdhaven,” you tell him, still leaning into his space, so close you can smell his cologne. “And I’ll tell Ra’s you said hi next time I visit.”

You pat the side of the car as you return to your own, smiling to yourself. Dick didn’t mention that you had so much in common with Jason.

The front door slams when Jason returns, causing Dick to jump before he flips over the back of the couch to see who’s entering his home.

“What’s your problem?” Dick inquires. “And where’s my cookie?”

“Your cop friend pulled me over,” Jason seethes.

“Yeah, because you were speeding.”

“She has green eyes!” Jason exclaims.

Dick raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t know that was a problem. Oh, is this a thing I’m going to regret asking about?”

“Lazarus Pit green, Dick!” Jason snaps, pacing to the door and back.

“Lazarus,” Dick whispers to himself as his shoulders drop. “What?”

Jason stops them, his brows furrowed as he asks, “You didn’t know?”

“No,” Dick answers. “How?”

“She didn’t tell me that. She saw the discrepancy on my license and then showed me her eyes. Said she’d tell Ra’s hi for me.”

“She’s hanging out with Ra’s?!” Dick demands.

“I don’t know!” Jason yells in reply. “Seems like something her friend should know.”

They’re interrupted by a knock on the door. Dick doesn’t move, so Jason looks through the peephole, then pulls the door open.

“Hi,” you greet, waving at Dick.

Jason looks at you, shamelessly appreciating the stark differences in what you’re wearing now compared to the uniform you were in an hour ago. Yet, the song plays in his head again, your theme song when Jason is near enough to appreciate your beauty.

“Start talking,” Dick demands.

“Hey, you didn’t tell me your brother took a dip in the Lazarus Pit either, Nightwing,” you remind him.

“How much do you know?” Jason asks as Dick argues, “I didn’t know you did.”

“I was in an accident in the academy,” you explain. “The officer in charge had a friend who had… we’ll say intimate knowledge of the League. They took me to the Lazarus Pit, made me an offer to keep their secret, and here I am.”

“And the comment about saying hi to Ra’s?” Jason checks.

“He comes by sometimes,” you admit. “Usually after he’s visited the guys who brought me to him. I typically have a check within a few days of that.”

“Ra’s blackmails them for you,” Dick muses. He looks at Jason to muse, “We need better archenemies.”

“I know Ra’s isn’t a good person,” you add. “But he seems a little better than the police officers who pushed a twenty-year-old girl until she died and then did everything they had to, so no one knew they weren’t heroes.”

“Don’t tell Damian,” Dick mumbles, leaning on the back of the couch.”

“Wait, are your Damian and Talia’s Damian the same kid?” you inquire.

“Okay, you know too much,” Jason decides, stepping toward you.

“I’m really good at keeping secrets,” you tell him. “But do whatever you need to do.”

Jason nods once, keeping his green eyes on yours as he decides, “We need to use you to scare our family.”

You smile, and are unaware of how long you and Jason look at each other before Dick asks, “Are you going to kiss or just stand there?”

“Later,” Jason decides.

“Oh?” you murmur.

Jason smiles, then ushers you to the kitchen, where he and Dick begin brainstorming where to begin. By far the best traffic stop ever conducted.

Jason Todd Taglist🏷️ @person-005 @stilestotherescue @natashamea18 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @ilocuras24 @koibleufish @coastalcowgirlie @waltermis @itzpixiebabe @devilslittlehelper @greygatorgaygator @marywantsttobattle @seriousaliysa @fireriyu @freeforalways @redpool

You hadn’t come around to changing it. And if you’re really being honest—something you only do on Wednesdays at 4 pm with your therapist—you hadn’t changed it because you hoped that you wouldn’t have to.

You hoped that maybe keeping him as your hockey boy meant that he’d come back into your life and stay that way.

Now, as the sky continued to rumble and weep above, you prayed that Logan’s generosity was not limited to your relationship. And tonight, you were going to test that.

The phone rang three times before the call connected.

“Hello?” His voice was raspy, laced with more perplexity than anything else.

You closed your eyes. You hadn’t heard his voice in a year. “Hey, Logan?”

He could hear the faint yet rhythmic thuds of rain hitting your car window through the speaker. You had gone back inside your car to make this phone call.

“Is everything okay?”

He sounded concerned. That’s good, you thought. That means he cares.

You took a deep breath, “No, I…I’m not okay. My car stopped working and I’m stuck in the middle of this rain storm.”

“You’re in Hastings?” He asked.

You swallowed. “Boston.”

The line went so quiet you had to check your screen to make sure you hadn’t been disconnected.

Then, “You’re here in Boston?”

You bit your bottom lip, “Yes.”

“Where are you?”

“Boston Common.”

You heard the soft metallic jingle of keys and your heart skipped a beat at the implication. You almost wanted to take it back, undo this call, pretend it never happened.

“Listen, Logan, I don’t know where you live. You could be miles away from where I am, but I didn’t know who else to call—”

“I will be there in 10 minutes. Do not leave your car, alright?”

Your heartbeat spiked. For a moment, you felt like a selfish monster—making him leave his home, reopening a chapter in his life he might’ve wanted to close, clawing your way back in on your terms. Logan had always been too kind for his own good.

He called your name softly and you snapped out of it.

“You hear me?” He repeated.

“Yes, I won’t leave my car.”

“And lock your doors.”

You pressed the button on your car door.

After he hung up, you did nothing but stare out your window. You put the windshield wipers to tedious work, watching as they slid water across the glass in futile efforts.

You didn’t notice the time passing. And you certainly didn’t notice Logan’s figure until his knock on your window made you jump out of your skin.

You quickly unlocked and pushed your door open. Logan was drenched. His cotton t-shirt clung to his torso, catching the ridges enough to leave an imprint of his abs. Droplets of rain dripped from his brown locks, falling and sticking to his forehead. He looked like a vision.

Logan helped you out your car, guiding you with a strong arm behind your back—not touching—towards his jeep. He opened the passenger door and made sure you settled inside before closing it and going around to his side of the car.

You were breathing heavily, still recovering from the heavy downpour. When Logan got in and shut the door behind him, you looked over.

He threw his head back to push the wet strands of hair out of his face. When he turned to face you, you felt a dip in your stomach.

“I’m really sorry,” you said right away.

He held his hand up to stop your apology. “Are you alright? Did you leave anything important in your car?”

You shook your head. Phone, wallet, keys. All tucked safely—albeit sodden—in your deep coat pockets.

He shifted the gear out of park and drove the two of you away from the park.

The car ride was silent. The ambience of the outside storm filled enough gaps that should have been filled with conversation.

God, when was the last time you had a conversation with Logan?

It must’ve been junior year for you. He had just moved to Boston after being drafted by the Bruins, got a place of his own, playing hockey professionally like he always wanted. And you were back at Briar, studying hard, doing long distance with him, sharing dreams whenever he came to visit you on campus.

“It needs to be a loft apartment.”

“Why a loft?” Logan furrowed his brows.

“Fun downstairs, cozy upstairs,” you replied.

He smiled and nodded along, “Okay.”

“With floor to ceiling windows, so we can always have a view.”

His arms wrapped around you, “And what view is that?”

“Fenway Park.”

Logan rolled his eyes and buried his face in your neck, making you squeal. “You baseball brat! I can’t believe you’re choosing that over hockey.”

The stubble on his handsome face made you ticklish, squirming in his hold. “I never even heard of the Bruins before I met you!”

He gasped in mock betrayal, “Oh you’re gonna pay for that, Red Sox masshole!”

Your laughter filled the air as Logan attacked your neck with kisses and tickles.

It had been going so well.

Until it wasn’t.

Long distance was hard. It wasn’t gracious or patient, not easy on fragile hearts such as yours. It wasn’t the type to harbor kindness that saved you from the rain despite everything.

No, it was cruel, and you never wanted your love for Logan to be that. He was a rising star in the hockey world. He deserved so much. So much more than a college girlfriend who lived away, more than FaceTimes every night and short weekend trips whenever your schedules aligned—like the sun and moon trying to meet.

You blinked out the passenger window when Logan drove onto a familiar freeway. “Wait, why are we—”

“I live down the block.”

You finally tore your gaze out the window and towards him for the first time since he started driving. Logan’s eyes remained steady on the road ahead, his grip on the steering wheel unwavering.

You didn’t say anything else as he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building, or when the two of you walked into the lobby where the doorman greeted Logan with ease, or when you took the elevator upstairs to the 21st floor where he lived.

When he unlocked his door, he held it open for you to step in first. You entered with hesitant steps, like an elephant finding home inside a mouse’s hole in the wall. You pulled your coat off—now damp thanks to his car heater—and hung it up on the coat rack.

Logan’s apartment was beautiful. Polished with exquisite furniture—from the fine leather couches, to the shiny marble island, even the brick veneer fireplace in the living room. The deeper you ventured in, the more you were left in awe.

The floor to ceiling windows.

Your footsteps paused as you reached the far end of the room. You peered out the glass, coming face-to-face with the same Fenway Park the pair of you just drove by on the way here. The one you almost asked Logan about.

You turned around and met his eyes. He stood behind the couch, holding onto the cushions to keep him upright.

Your eyes glanced to the side of the apartment, where the floating staircase was leading to his quaint bedroom. Your eyes flicked back to his.

An unspoken exchange lingered between you.

“How’d you know where my car was?”

Logan pursed his lips before shrugging, “I just looked for the blue Toyota Camry.”

You nodded, “Of course you did.”

Logan walked over to his open kitchen, pulling out a bottle of something. “Reliable car,” he remarked.

You let out a huff of amusement, “Oh, for sure. Except when it’s pouring, right?”

Logan popped open the cork, “Cars don’t like water. They’re like cats.”

You sauntered your way into his kitchen. “Wish I knew that before I bought it.”

“I told you that when you bought it.”

Right. Logan had been the one who accompanied you to the dealership when you finally saved enough money to put a payment down for a car. He had spoken to the salesperson, checked out everything, told you all that you needed to know about cars. He was the reason you got a Camry because he said it wouldn’t let you down unless you let it down.

Perhaps that applied to more than just cars.

He held out a glass of wine towards you. You accepted it with a grateful smile, taking a sip.

Logan watched you over the rim of his own wine glass. “I’d give you the house tour but…this is pretty much it.”

“No, it’s nice,” you responded, looking around.

He nodded, “I’m glad you think so.”

Neither of you were willing to acknowledge his influence on your car preferences and your influence on his architectural choices.

You cleared your throat, “Thank you. Really. For saving me. You didn’t have to.”

Logan tilted his head, “No, I kinda had to.”

Your smile faded away.

He leaned against the kitchen island, “I told you if you ever had car troubles, I’m your guy.”

Your guy.

“Yeah, I know.” You replied. “I just…I wasn’t sure if you still meant that. After…everything.”

Logan looked away, finding sudden interest in the ceiling chandelier. “I’m gonna change out of this,” he pointed to his clothes.

You nodded, putting your glass down.

“You’re welcome to stay.” He told you, meeting your eyes once again. “We can go get your car in the morning—if it isn’t still raining—and I’ll fix it up for you.”

You wanted to decline his benevolent offer. Why was he so nice to you after you broke up with him? You didn’t deserve this—

Logan tugged you by your hand, his touch was electric after all the time apart. “C’mon, let me get you a change of clothes, too.”

He led you upstairs to the loft bedroom. The room was warmer, literally and figuratively. It wasn’t as chic as the downstairs, but definitely more homey.

Logan pulled open his dresser drawer and took out a t-shirt and pair of boxers. “These should still fit you,” he commented as he tossed them over to you.

You held them up. It was your favorite shirt of his, the one you always stole because of Joe soft the fabric felt. And the boxers, they had hockey sticks on them, something you bought him for his birthday one year.

He pointed to the en suite bathroom, “You can change in there, wash your face, whatever you want.”

You watched him for a moment as he pulled out his own change of clothes. Your mouth ran out of apologies and words of gratitude, so you simply nodded and made your way inside his bathroom.

By the time you stepped out in his apparel, Logan had already dressed in a fresh set of sweatpants low on his waist and a white wife beater. He paused when he saw you, needing to reintroduce the image of you in his shirt and boxers like it were a long lost language he once spoke fluently.

He cleared his throat after a moment, “You can have the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No, Logan, it’s your place.” You argued.

“It’s fine, you’re my guest—”

“No, really, you should—”

“I insist—”

“But I—”

“Babe.”

You both froze when the word slipped out Logan’s lips so effortlessly. Your eyes met in a loaded exchange, but at least it got you to shut up about the bed. He cursed himself internally for allowing that to happen, and even more so when it felt so right doing it.

Logan let out a sigh and picked up a pillow and blanket, “Just…sleep on the bed. Please.”

This time, you didn’t shoot out a retort. You simply observed as Logan went down the stairs with his bedding.

You tried.

You really did.

But sleep would not find you no matter how many times you tossed and turned on Logan’s smooth sheets. Your mind replayed memories of him instead of dreams.

“Why are you doing this?” Logan’s voice was equal parts exasperation and anguish.

You sniffled, “Logan, I want what’s best for you. That’s all I want.”

“You’re what’s best for me!”

“No, I’m not—”

“You don’t get to decide that!” He held your arms with a desperate grip. “I’ve been making hard decisions my whole life. And this? You? It’s the easiest choice I ever made; it’s the only one I know that’s right.”

“You’ll change your mind, you’ll meet so many wonderful people in Boston. And I don’t want you to resent me for keeping you.”

“Resent you?” He repeated. “I love you. You’re it for me, baby. Don’t you get that?”

You sat up on his bed, your heart beating faster than normal. When you stood up and leaned forward on the loft’s railing, you spotted Logan sitting by the tall apartment window, staring out into the nighttime view.

“Since when do you like baseball?”

Logan turned his head and saw you at the bottom of the staircase. He huffed, “Boston brainwashed me.”

You smiled and sat across from him, your knees brushed against each other but neither do you pulled away. You followed his gaze out the window and towards Fenway Park.

“You been to any of their games?” You asked.

“One or two,” he answered.

“You a Red Sox fan now?” You teased.

“I have to be or else I’d get beat up on the streets,” Logan quipped.

You chuckled quietly. “What a waste of real estate.”

His expression sobered. He fiddled with his fingers before looking at you. “I only got this place because it’s what you always wanted.”

Your eyes darted to him.

He shrugged like the confession was helpless, inevitable, even. Logan wasn’t ashamed nor did he regret it.

“Logan,” you called softly.

“What do I have to do to show you that I want this? That I want us.”

Your chest tightened, “Logan.”

“It’s been a year, baby. I haven’t seen anyone else. I can’t. They’re not you.”

“Logan—”

“And you can try to tell me that this is what’s best for us, or whatever bullshit mature answer you have, but I won’t buy that. Nothing you say will change how I feel about you. I meant what I said when I told you that you were it for me.”

You kissed him.

He wouldn’t shut up if you hadn’t.

Neither of you complained.

Logan groaned against your lips like you were the first drop of rain in the midst of a drought. His hands buried themselves into your hair, pulling you closer until you settled onto his lap.

You found purchase on his broad shoulders, bringing your chests flush together. Your fingers tips brushed against the hairs on the nape of his neck, remembering what it felt like to tug on them.

As if he could read your thoughts, Logan pulled back enough to ask: “Please, baby, can I eat you out? I haven’t tasted you in so long.”

You must’ve looked pathetic when you nodded so quickly.

Logan pushed you to lay on your back. He lifted your shirt up enough so he could admire your bare chest. The sound that escaped him was even more pathetic than your eager consent.

His lips latched onto one of your nipples, flicking the bud and wetting it with fervor. His free hand kneaded your other breast with ample attention.

Your breath came out in shaky puffs. You closed your eyes and sighed, “Fuck, Logan.”

Your voice went straight to his groin. He switched to the other breast and showered it with the same affection.

You blinked down at him in a daze, weakly tugging at his top. He sat up immediately and pulled it off his frame, chucking it aside. Your eyes wandered over the bare expanse of his torso. His defined pecks and abdomen, the blooming bruises he earned from hockey slowly fading into yellow-green patches.

You didn’t have time to admire him in the way he deserved because Logan impatiently hooked his restless fingers under his boxers that you wore.

“Raise your hips for me, baby.”

You complied without hesitation. When your bottom half was left exposed, Logan sat back on his haunches and stared. His eyes glazed over with a subtle sheen and you almost worried that he’d start crying.

“You’re unfair,” he mumbled with softly arched brows. He reached down and propped your legs over his shoulders.

You cried out when his tongue slid between your folds in a tantalizing slow glide. You weren’t sure if the sound you heard came out of your own mouth or Logan’s.

“Tastes better than I remember,” he said.

His lips left a small peck on your clit before he sucked on it. Your hips flinched upwards, but Logan’s strong arms held you down.

“Reactive, huh? Did you miss my mouth?”

You huffed, “Yes.”

He smirked. So smug.

“Yeah, I bet you did. I can tell.” His fingers swiped against you and gathered your slick.

“You’re so wet for me.”

“Don’t tease.”

Logan’s smile widened. He leaned forward so his face hovered over yours. “I can do whatever I want, baby. I earned it.”

Fuck was he right.

He devoured you. He left your legs shaking and heart racing. His tongue prodded your hole so skillfully, just the right amount of pressure that made you yank at his hair.

“Right there,” you gasped out.

Logan doubled down on his ministrations. His hands lifted your ass up so he could bury his face deeper between your thighs.

Your eyes rolled back, “Baby, I’m close.”

Baby.

Logan hadn’t heard that name of endearment from you in a year and it made him grind down on his erection to relieve some tension.

“You’re so pretty when you’re about to cum,” he said, admiring the view of you. He could always tell when you were close to finishing.

He dove back in, rapidly shaking his head from side to side, resulting in a crude squelching noise to echo in the air. You shrieked, arching up towards him.

“Let me have it, angel. I need it. I deserved it.”

His words were enough to send you over. When you came, you both let out a moan. Logan held you through it, working his tongue to ride out your wave of pleasure. You had to shakily push his head away when it became too much to bear.

Logan threw his head back and sat down. You both panted, forcing air into your lungs, holding eye contact. When your gaze dragged downwards, you spotted the dark splotch on the crotch of his sweatpants.

Your eyes widened.

Logan let out a small chuckle.

“It’s been a while,” is what he said.

“Since you ate out a girl?” You queried.

His adam’s apple bobbed, “Since I came.”

The room went quiet.

The thought of Logan being celibate since the two of you broke up did dangerous things to your heart. It weaved precarious hopes that you feared would blossom into something neither of you could promise.

Logan pulled one of your legs into his lap and started caressing your foot. He stared down at your skin, allowing the moment to settle. You watched him, biting your lip in thought.

“Let me take care of you,” you offered.

“It’ll take a while,” he said.

Your eyes automatically glanced between his legs.

Logan let out another amused laugh that faded into a deep sigh. His expression shifted into something more thoughtful as he looked at your face.

“Come back to me, baby.” He murmured.

Your heart ached at the pleading tone.

“We can live here,” he gestured around the apartment. “Sleep in our loft, have dinner on the kitchen island, make love on the couch, look out at Fenway Park at night…”

That was the life you wanted with Logan.

It was perfect.

He was perfect.

He did everything perfectly.

And you had let your fears ruin that.

But not anymore.

You reached for his hands and pulled him closer. Your foreheads rested against each other. He closed his eyes for a second before looking deep into your eyes.

“You’ll have to go to every Red Sox game with me,” you whispered.

Logan’s chuckle came out sounding like a breath of relief. He nodded slowly.

“Whatever you want,” he murmured.

You tilted your head, “You. I want you.”

Logan squeezed your hands, “You have me.”

And that was the easiest decision you ever made, too.

He also kept a heavy hand on the small of your back any moment his hand was free. You put on a good act, pretending it didn’t get to you every time his fingers drew small shapes over your top, or whenever his digits slipped beneath the fabric when the boys were too busy laughing, leaving you with a hitched breath and a warm feeling between your legs.

When the other half to your dynamic duo, Kendall, stepped between the two of you and grabbed your hand, spluttering something about dancing to her favorite song, Logan’s grip tightened on you for a moment before he loosened up and plastered a pursed smile on his face.

“As long as you bring her back to me,” he said. Kendall laughed at his joke as she dragged you away. But one look between you and Logan and you knew he wasn’t trying to be funny.

“He’s so down bad for you, it’s hilarious,” Kendall giggled to you with a roll of her eyes. “He needs to lighten up.”

The pair of you danced to an ABBA song, laughing and belting out the lyrics. You closed your eyes and let loose, submitting to the tingle of whatever alcohol remained in your system.

John watched like a hawk. The irony wasn’t lost on him considering his bird costume. You looked so good. He wanted to hold you from behind and make you feel how heavy his—

“Any more staring and she’ll burst into flames.”

Logan snapped out of it and turned to Garrett, who wore a knowing smirk and offered him another can of Sprite.

“Thanks, man,” Logan said gratefully, taking the refill.

Garrett looked at your dancing figure. “Freshmen on the team were asking about her.”

“Yeah? What’d they say?” Logan replied almost absentmindedly, sipping his drink and staring at you.

Garrett sighed. “Rather not say. I’m supposed to be Hannah’s ‘boyfriend’ and all.”

Logan peered at him from the corner of his eyes, feeling his protective instincts start to wake. Garrett noticed and gently bumped their shoulders together.

“Not like that. Wasn’t bad. Just…” Garrett hummed into his red solo cup. “Horny.” He settled on that word.

That was enough.

Logan chugged down whatever was left in the can of soda before making his way over to you. He crossed the room in quick strides, ignoring Kendall’s amused voice when she cooed, “Uh oh, return to sender already?”

Logan took your hand and pulled you away; away from the dance floor, away from the party, and most importantly—away from the lingering gazes so many guys sent your way.

“Logan?” You queried as he brought you up the stairs.

He didn’t respond, just kept tugging you along.

“Logan.”

Nothing.

“Baby—”

He finally stopped and turned to look at you. His stature towered over you and you suddenly felt small with the way he was staring down at your face.

He exhaled a heavy breath. “Fuck, baby, I’m trying really hard to be respectful.”

You cupped his cheek. His skin was hot to the touch. He subconsciously burrowed closer into the palm of your hand.

“You don’t have to be,” you murmured.

He closed his eyes for a moment. “How many drinks have you had?”

“A can and a half of beer,” you answered.

He opened his eyes to make sure you were being honest. You stood unwavering.

“You’re sober?” He asked.

“Mhm.”

“You’re sure?”

“100%. Are you?”

He sighed, turning away. “Yeah. Yeah, I made sure not to…” his words trailed off.

You smiled. “You made sure not to drink too much so we could fuck?”

He looked at you again. “Don’t say it like that.”

You giggled, pushing away a strand of fallen hair from his forehead. “I’m saying it as it is.”

“I made sure not to drink too much to be responsible,” he corrected.

You nodded along, “Oh, yeah. Responsible. My responsible and respectful boyfriend.” You teased. He did not appreciate that.

“Okay,” he let out an amused sound as if he were faced with a challenge. He leaned in and whispered, “Let’s see who’s laughing when I stop respecting you and start doing all the things I plan to do to you.”

You gulped.

+

He led you to the nearest vacant bedroom in the Maxwell family home before pushing you inside and locking the door behind him. You thought he’d pin you against the door and makeout with you.

Instead, he said, “Sit on the bed,” in that husky voice you rarely hear so you knew you had to listen.

You sat down. The covers were soft and cool. You watched and waited for his next words, but Logan was too busy pacing in front of the door and running his hands through his hair. He looked so yummy.

“Take your clothes off. Let me see you.”

You blinked. You weren’t used to Logan being like this. He usually did all the work. But this new side of him was hot, so very hot.

You slowly unzipped your boots and kicked them off along with your socks. Next, your headpiece with the sprinkles. Then, your tube top, revealing your bare breasts, and lastly, your skirt, leaving you in nothing but underwear.

You felt exposed, just sitting there on the bed as Logan stared at you without a word. His eyes were nearly black from how blown out his pupils were, his bottom lip chewed and slightly pink from how much he dragged it beneath his teeth.

“Pretty,” he finally commented. “That’s new.”

You glanced down to where he gestured, looking at the lace thong you wore. He was right; it was new. You and Kendall bought matching ones for the costumes, but you didn’t need to tell him that bit right now.

“Yeah,” you confirmed.

“Was it expensive?” He asked.

“Not…really…”

“Good,” he nodded to himself. He pushed off the wings he wore for his costume and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside.

He knelt down in front of you and spread your legs apart. “So I can ruin it, right?”

That shot up your spine. Your thighs wanted to rub against one another at his remark, but he held your knees firmly. “Answer.”

You nodded without thinking. “Yes.”

He smiled at your obedience and nodded. “Yeah, we’ll get to that. But for now…” his words died down as his lips attached to yours.

It was all tongue and messy. Logan pinned your wrists to the mattress as he kissed you. He grunted against your lips every time you bit his lip teasingly. Eventually, his kisses trailed downwards. To your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone. He made sure to give all your sensitive spots an abundance of attention.

Then? His favorite bit. Your tits. John Logan was a tits guy, through and through. Doesn’t matter what size or shape, he was enamored with them.

“Missed my girls,” he murmured before he took one of your breasts into his mouth, swirling his tongue over your pebbled nipple and sucking softly, then switching to the other boob and giving it the same treatment.

Your head tilted back and let out soft sighs. The comfort of him mouthing at your breasts left you aching and squirming on the bed. “Oh, baby…”

He pulled away at your voice and left a sloppy kiss between your tits. He peppered a few more kisses on your abdomen—nipping an especially ticklish spot below your rib—before diving in and licking you over the fabric of your lace thong. You gasped, your hand flying to his hair like second instinct.

He groaned against you, the sound muffled but the vibrations sending sparks to your core. “Already so wet for me. I hardly did anything.”

“Logan, please…”

He kept licking up your slit through your panties. He could feel your juices seep through the delicate material. The friction was doing wonders for your pleasure, but you grew impatient. “Logan…”

He finally pulled your thong to the side and resumed his ministrations with extra fervor. The direct contact had you jumping in your seat, but Logan’s strong arms held your hips down.

He groaned again, pulling away just to mutter, “Fuck, gorgeous, maybe he was right to call you cupcake. You taste so fucking sweet.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before his words fully registered in your head. “James?” You asked, breathlessly.

He pulled away and looked at you with a deadpan expression. He crawled up your body until he was face-to-face with you and said, “Please don’t ever say another man’s name when my tongue is inside you.”

That had your hole clenching around nothing.

“Got that?” He asked.

You nodded right away, “Mhm.”

“Words,” he demanded.

“Yes. Got it.” You responded quietly.

“Good,” he murmured before smoothing your hair down and admiring you for a moment. Then, his head was back between your thighs.

“Ah, Logan!” You breathed out, digging your nails into his scalp.

He raised up two fingers to your lips without stopping. You blinked back bleary eyed at that. “Open,” he said.

Immediately, you parted your lips. He shoved his ring and middle fingers inside your mouth and you sucked on them diligently, running your tongue over his calluses earned from hockey and various handyman jobs. Once they were appropriately wet, he pulled his fingers out and into your pussy.

You keeled over with a loud cry, “John!”

He raised his head up, letting his fingers do all the work now. “You like that? Yeah?”

You bobbed your head up and down, unable to find any words left in you from how nicely Logan scissored his fingers inside you, all whilst keeping his thumb on your clit in steady motions.

“Look at you. So pretty and whiny for me,” he murmured, voice smooth as honey. “Letting me wreck you like this and I haven’t even used my cock yet.”

You whimpered, hand gripping onto his bicep. You were sure you’d see nail marks on his skin even tomorrow morning.

“Oh, you like that?” He asked, tilting his head. “You want me to fuck you stupid with my cock?” The pace of his fingers increased.

Your eyes screwed shut. “Yes! Please, I want that.” You tugged him closer so you could bury your face in his neck, feeling so overwhelmed by pleasure.

He let out an airy chuckle. “Such a good girl. Just for that? I’ll reward you.”

He made you cum on his fingers. The heel of his hand applied pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves until you seized and melted against him with a moan.

“Shhh, that’s it. Come down from it, you’re okay,” he kissed the top of your head.

You mumbled incoherent sentences into his neck and he merely smiled and rubbed your back.

After a minute of breathing, he pulled back slightly to look at your face. “You okay?” He asked, pushing a lock of hair away from your face.

You nodded, still buzzing from what had happened. “Yeah,” you exhaled.

He nodded, watching you carefully in the vulnerable afterglow. Your hands trailed down to his jeans, tugging at his belt, silently asking for it to come off.

Logan chuckled softly before helping you remove his belt and jeans. He reached into the pocket then chucked them on the floor and you instantly started palming his eager boner through his boxers.

He hissed, tossing his head back. “Fuck, baby.”

“Please tell me you have a condom,” you said.

He held the small foil up in his fingers.

At that, you rid him of his boxers and watched in tense awe as he teared the packet open with his teeth and rolled the condom on. You settled back against the bed pillows as you waited in hot anticipation.

“Uh uh,” he wagged his finger before curling it in a come hither gesture.

You sat up, letting out a surprised squeal when he lifted you by your thighs and settled on the bed before placing you above him. Your hands scrambled until they settled on his abs.

He looked up at you with hooded eyes, “Look good for me, gorgeous. I want a show.”

You leaned down and peppered kisses over his face. He let out a relaxed sigh and rubbed up and down your sides lazily. You nibbled on a spot right below his ear, earning you a delicious whimper from him.

“Tease,” he muttered and you grinned.

“Thought you wanted a show,” you remarked.

He hummed, “Mm, yeah. But just for me. No one else.”

You looked down at him, realizing he’s still a bit hung up from the incident earlier that night. Your finger slid sensually from his adam’s apple to his naval. “No one else. Only you.”

“Yeah?” His voice got deeper. “Show me.”

Sir, yes, sir. You held his dick from the base and slowly sank down on him. Logan groaned, his grip on your hips tightening. The stretch of him filling you up was deliriously good. You bit your lip as you took him in, inch by inch.

Finally, you both let out a sigh in unison. You planted your palms flat on his abdomen and started rocking back and forth.

The room succumbed to the sounds of soft moans and the subtle creak from the bed. The party downstairs was long forgotten. Here, it was just you and Logan.

“Just like that, baby, hah,” he breathed out, moving you back and forth. Even if he put you on top, Logan would always end up doing the work for you. You were his pampered princess.

You threw your head back, feeling the pleasure build up in your tummy once again. You took one of Logan’s hands and guided him through rubbing circles on your clit.

“Do you like that, sweetheart?” He asked.

You nodded fervently. “Yes. Fuck, yes, Logan. Keep doing that, baby, I’m so close.”

He held you firmly and started bucking up into you. You cried out, slumping against his chest as he thrusted in and out of you, reaching so deep inside, hitting that spongy part that left you seeing stars.

“Cum for me, baby. I know you can do it,” he said.

The coil snapped and you released, letting out a long moan. Your body shook, the pleasure and adrenaline rushing through you like a live wire meeting water. You collapsed against him, your bones feeling like putty.

He took your chin in his hand and tilted your head up to meet his face. He was still rocking into you. “Need to see you, baby. Need to see your pretty face when I cum.”

You were so out of it, barely processing his words. You simply nodded and chewed on your bottom lip. He looked so hot all sweaty and breathing heavily.

His eyes squeezed shut when he came, letting out a guttural groan. You felt his hips falter as he bucked up into you, rhythm sloppy and erratic. He let out a shuddering breath and dropped his head back onto the pillow.

The room was quiet now. The hum of electrical circuits and the distant noise of the party below filling up the space. You traced shapes onto his ribs, your touch barely skimming his skin. His hands caressed your back slowly, giving a small squeeze every now and then.

“Not jealous anymore?” You murmured, looking at him with an amused smirk.

He scoffed. “I wasn’t jealous.”

You hummed, “Ohhh, okay. Not jealous. Just possessive.”

He rolled his eyes fondly, a smile threatening to tear his lips wide. “Just…want you to be mine. All the time.”

You smiled, “I am.”

“I know you are.”

He raised an amused brow, “Chocolate?”

You nodded, sipping your beer. “Chocolate.” You confirmed, then pointed across the room to where Kendall was busy making out with one of the hockey players. “She’s vanilla. We’re chocolate and vanilla swirl.”

The football player nodded in understanding. “Ah. I see,” he said before looking over at Kendall. “Though vanilla isn’t very vanilla.”

You laughed at his witty joke, both of you watching Kendall as she did a body shot off of the hockey player she was kissing two seconds ago. She was dressed in the same tube top and bubble skirt set you were wearing, complete with the knee-high boots and matching headpiece; hers a whipped white color, yours a cocoa brown.

From the other side of the room, Tucker and Logan were talking when the former spotted you chatting with the tall football player.

Tucker nudged Logan, “Yo, is that your girl?”

Logan followed his line of sight and it landed on you, leaning against the kitchen counter and speaking to the good-looking stranger with an easy smile on your lips.

Logan looked away and gulped down his beverage. “She’s a big girl.”

Logan wasn’t one of those insecure, pompous boyfriends. He didn’t do jealousy. He’s convinced jealousy was invented by a short dick man with an easily bruised ego. Logan was secure enough in his relationship with you to never have any reason to feel jealous.

You turned to the jock and gave his costume a once-over. Knitting your brows together, you racked your brain’s storage full of pop culture references and iconic fictional characters.

“Timothée Chalamet in Call Me by Your Name?” You tried.

He let out a huff of laughter, “Close. I’m Luca from the Disney-Pixar movie.”

“Ahh,” you nodded. “Practically the same.”

He flashed a charming smile, dragging a sip from his bottle. He extended his hand to you, “James.”

You shook his hand and told him your name.

“Pretty name,” he responded. “Though…” he leaned in closer, “…cupcake fits better, don’t you think?”

Ah. At that, you picked up that he was attempting to flirt with you. Forever loyal to your boyfriend, you opened your mouth to turn his advances down. But before you could, you felt an arm wrap around your waist from behind and find purchase on your hipbone. You knew who it was without even looking.

“Hey, got you a refill,” Logan said, taking the half empty can from your hands and replacing it with a new one.

“Thanks,” you said. As your hand moved to pop the can open, Logan’s deft fingers beat you to it and he cracked the tab for you.

The football player, James, eyed the two of you, biting his lip whilst reconfiguring his whole plan. “You’re both…?”

“Air signs,” Logan teasingly remarked with a straight face, casually drinking from his red solo cup. You elbowed him with a small smirk.

“No,” James shook his head. “I mean—”

“Together,” Logan told him, putting his now empty plastic cup down on the counter. His newly freed hand joined the other by holding onto your other hip and giving it a squeeze.

James nodded to himself. “Got it.” And away he went. Probably off to find his Alberto.

Logan’s eyes followed his retreating figure, not easing up until he was out of sight. Only then did he drop his hands off your body.

You turned around and looked up at your boyfriend with a wide smile. “What was that?”

“What was what?” He returned, pouring himself a new drink.

“That whole thing,” you responded.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” You repeated.

Logan shrugged. “A normal interaction, no?”

“He was flirting with me before that.”

“Oh so you’re aware.”

Your expression dropped. Oh, is that why—

“Logan.”

“Hm.”

“Logan.”

“Hm?”

You tilted his face down to look at him. “I wasn’t going to entertain it.”

“I know,” he replied.

“I was going to shut it down right before you showed up.”

“I know.”

“I want to make sure you know that.”

“And I know that.”

You squinted your eyes. This was suspiciously too easy. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

You stared at one another for a beat longer than necessary.

“You’re still upset,” you observed.

“I’m not upset,” he answered.

“So what are you feeling?” You asked.

“I don’t like how he called you cupcake,” Logan told you.

“Me neither. Not when I’m so clearly chocolate.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

“Y/n.”

You sighed softly, “Okay, sorry. I thought humor would make it better.”

Your fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, hoping to relieve some of his tension. It worked. A little.

“It was a shitty pickup line,” you said. “Wouldn’t work on me even if I was single.”

“I hope so.”

“Oh, please, Logan. Take me out the back and shoot me if you ever see me falling for that,” you commented. He let out a small laugh. That’s progress

His hands returned to your hips and he pulled you closer. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. His large hands rested just above your ass.

“What if I called you that?” Logan said lowly.

“Wanna give it a try?” You offered.

He leaned in, his lips hovering right by your ear. You could feel his warm breath fanning over your sensitive flesh. “Would you be into that, cupcake?” He whispered, ending it with a gentle nibble on your earlobe.

You shivered, feeling goosebumps crawl over your skin. “Fuck, I guess you have to take me out back with a gun, Logan.”

He pulled back with a hearty chuckle. You gave a matching smile and he held your face, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone.

As he looked at you, his face turned thoughtful for a moment. You squeezed his hand reassuringly.

He leaned in again. “I didn’t like how he looked at you.”

“How’d he look at me?” You wondered.

“Like how I look at you.”

You stared up at him, biting your lip. “And how do you look at me?” You whispered.

He brought his forehead against yours, gazing deep into your eyes. “Like I want you.”

Oh screw your sexy boyfriend and his even sexier responses. And that’s exactly what you wanted to do now—if only you weren’t in the middle of Beau and Dean’s birthday bash.

You had enough of this game. You raised yourself up and pressed your lips to his. Logan was hungry; he seemed to devour your kiss, swallowing every soft sound you made. His hand strayed down to grip your ass, the other held your waist comfortably. His tongue was already begging to enter your mouth, and you obliged without hesitation.

When you pulled away several moments later, Logan chased your lips with eagerness, gently biting your bottom lip as you separated.

“Mine,” he breathed out under his breath.

You bared a dazed smile, “I only want you.” You mouthed silently.

Logan let out a soft sound of amusement, nodding more to himself than to you. Satisfied and high off your impromptu makeout session, he pressed one last kiss to your forehead before rejoining his friends, this time with a protective hand on the small of your back.

Logan’s older brother Jeff was leaning against the workshop desk and sipping on a can of Coke when he saw you strut in. He sighed, “Here comes Lottie.”

The nickname was a running joke between the brothers. Jeff had muttered it under his breath when you first visited the shop and asked a question about diesel gas. He took one look at you and knew you were a clueless, rich girl who shouldn’t be visiting garages such as theirs.

Logan hadn’t entertained the nickname so much. He thought it was unnecessarily mean. Besides, Lottie was always a sweetheart in Princess and the Frog.

Jeff turned on his heels and disappeared into the garage’s office, leaving Logan to deal with you on his own.

Logan put down a spare part he was working on and turned around, leaning back against the counter.

You waved excitedly with a cheerful grin. “Hi, Logan!”

He smiled politely, “Hey…”

“Did you save my girl?” You asked, batting your lashes.

Logan nodded, “She’s all fixed up for you,” he said, walking over to the wall of car keys hung on hooks to retrieve yours.

You clapped your hands, “Yay!”

He chuckled whilst shaking his head. You got happy over the simplest of things. He thought it was endearing.

You walked over to your car. Nebula, as you called her. A fitting name for a sleek, black convertible with dark purple leather upholstery and shiny silver rims.

Logan came over and handed you your keys. “You wanna try her out?”

You nodded and unlocked your car before opening the driver’s side door. No beeping. Perfect.

You beamed at Logan. “You did it!”

He smiled with an easy laugh, feeling proud of his work. In reality, your car issue was a minor one; the door sensor just needed a replacement. Nothing about it required a lick of rocket science, and yet you looked at him as if he hung the stars in your galaxy.

You put your designer bag into your car and bent over to fish out your wallet. Logan stared at your body for a second before he caught himself, clearing his throat and looking away respectfully.

You stood up straight, holding your leather wallet between both hands, looking at him with a doe-eyed expression.

He scratched the back of his neck and gestured for you to follow him to the counter. The gritty sounds of his boots crunching the gravel below and the rhythmic click click click of your heels echoed through the garage.

Logan went around the counter and pulled out a receipt and wrote down the service you needed with the price. He slid the piece of paper to you but you just kept looking at his face with a smile. He blinked before realizing you didn’t care for the price. Right, he thought. Rich girls don’t worry about those things.

“Cash or card?” He asked.

You held up your metal black credit card.

Logan pursed his lips and nodded as he pulled out a card reader. You tapped your card without even glancing at the screen and clapped your hands when the machine beeped in satisfaction.

“Thank you, Logan,” you told him kindly.

He shrugged politely, “It’s no problem.”

You smiled at him. He returned it, “Do you want your recei—“

Before he could even hand you your proof of service, you were walking back to your car. He nodded to himself and stuffed the receipt into the cash register.

He watched as you exited the garage, waving at him enthusiastically as you drove by. He gave a small wave back.

+

A week later, your BMW pulled into the garage whilst Logan was working under a car.

He didn’t hear the sound of your heels this time as he had headphones in, blasting a classic rock song. He felt a shadow looming nearby so he turned and saw your heels appear. He paused and rolled out from under the car, meeting the sight of your broad smile peering down at him.

“Hi, Logan!”

“Hey…” He sounded confused. His eyebrows furrowed and he glanced around, “Didn’t you pick up your car last week?”

You nodded. “Yep. But my AC is broken now…” You pouted.

Hm, Logan thought. He sat up, “Oh, I didn’t see that when I did the diagnostic last week—“

“Must be a new issue, then. These foreign cars are all funny,” you replied, tilting your head.

He cleaned his hands with a rag before standing up. He had oil stains on his shirt and just a little smudge on his face. You thought he looked so ruggedly handsome.

“Let me take a look,” he said and you stepped out the way for him to crank open your hood and inspect the situation.

As he got to work, you leaned against your car and watched. After a moment, you asked, “How was your weekend?”

People don’t usually talk to Logan when he repairs their cars. Especially not pretty, rich girls like you.

“It was good, played hockey, worked here in the shop,” he responded casually.

You nodded along even though he couldn’t see you.

“Did you win?” You asked.

He laughed, an amused sound. “Yeah…yeah, we won.”

You clapped your hands, “Yay!”

Logan laughed again. It was cute, he thought, how you always clapped at good news.

“You like hockey?” He asked, looking over your hood to meet your eyes.

You hummed, “I only recently got into it. My family prefers watching polo, golf, or tennis.”

Rich people sports, he wanted to say. That made sense.

“Recently, huh?” He said instead, ducking his head to keep working. “Who should I thank for putting you onto hockey?” He joked.

You smiled shyly and said, “You…”

His hand paused. The parts of your car suddenly looking like alphabet soup moving in jumbled letters. He lifted his head to meet your gaze again. But before he could manage a reply, you changed the subject. “Is it broken beyond repair?” You asked, turning your attention to your car parts.

He snapped out of his daze and shook his head. “Uhh, no. No, you just need AC coolant.”

“Is that an easy fix?” You asked.

He nodded, “Yeah, the easiest.” He said.

You smiled in relief. “Thank goodness I have you fixing my car,” you told him.

He smiled at that.

He fixed your car, you chirped out a “Thank you, Logan!”, you paid without looking at the bill, and waved goodbye as you left.

“That the BMW girl again?” Logan’s dad asked as he stepped out the office.

“Yeah,” Logan replied, wiping his hands.

“Lottie back again so soon?” Jeff teased. Logan rolled his eyes at the jab.

“You overcharge her?” His dad asked.

Logan looked at him, “Why would I do that?”

His dad shrugged, “Luxurious car fee?”

Logan squinted his eyes, “We don’t do that.”

Jeff piped in, “We could. She doesn’t even check her receipts.”

Logan looked between his dad and brother, “So what? We charge her fair and square.”

His dad shared a looked with Jeff before he went back inside the office.

+

Week after week, you came by to the garage. First it was an oil change, then a rim replacement, then a loose window ribbon, then a tire with low air, and so on.

By week 7, Logan had had enough. It’s not that he didn’t like seeing you, no. Far from it. He actually enjoyed your company. He often looked forward to when you’d come by and say Hi, Logan! in that sing-song voice of yours, your joyful smile, and innocent questions.

But now he was noticing a pattern.

So when you rolled in that Thursday night like clockwork, he didn’t go up to you. He stayed by the workshop desk and watched you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hi, Logan!” You beamed with a gleeful wave.

But upon meeting his stern expression, your smile faltered and your hand slowly dropped back to your side. You looked around the empty garage before walking over to him in hesitant steps. The sound of your heels filled the space between the two of you. You stopped in front of him and flattened down your skirt, a nervous tic of yours that you never noticed before.

“Y/n,” he said, his tone serious. “This is the seventh time you’ve come to the garage.”

You nodded, “Nebula keeps acting up—“

“No, she doesn’t.”

You looked at your feet. No smile, no lively clapping.

His arms uncrossed and he stepped closer. He wasn’t angry. No, it wasn’t that. Logan isn’t an idiot. He knew. He knew you had a crush on him, knew the only reason you showed up time and time again was just to spend time with him. Why else would you come? He knew families like yours had their own repairmen at fancy dealerships who could fix any problem. You didn’t need to come into his family’s garage.

Yet, you did.

Logan figured it out by week 4. But truth be told, he never mentioned it because a part of him liked being around you too. He liked hearing your upbeat voice, the familiar tap of your heels, the sound of your laugh. So he stayed quiet, he fixed your tires, and refilled your car’s oil. He went along with it. Because he liked your company just as much as you liked his.

Unable to lie to him, you lifted your head and met his eyes. “I did those things to my car on purpose.” You confessed quietly.

Logan blinked. His stance eased at your admission and he looked at you with soft eyes.

“I watched a YouTube video on how to drain AC coolant,” you added. “And drove around until my tires lost some of its pressure, and—”

“Y/n,” he held your chin with his hand. “You didn’t have to do all that to see me.”

Your eyes widened as you stared at him. He smiled gently, “I…like seeing you. With or without Nebula.”

“You do?” You asked.

He nodded, “I do.”

He leaned in slowly, giving you the chance to pull away. But you stayed. His lips met yours in a gentle kiss. Not hungry or desperate, just a soft sealing; a mutual understanding—I like you and you like me.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. You looked at him with a honeyed, dazed expression. He smiled down at you and pecked your lips once more. You weren’t a spoiled, rich girl to him. Not clueless or ditzy. You were just…you. A sweetheart with a crush on a cute guy who would do anything to see him. You were Lottie.

He glanced behind you at your car. He pulled away with a reluctant sigh, “What did you do to her this time?”

You smiled sheepishly, “I jammed my gearshift…”

He chuckled softly, both amused and fondly exasperated by you. “Okay…let me take a look.” He said, lacing his hand with yours and bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss.

You and Hannah, in much need of a girls’ night, and of course, determined to help your friend recuperate after the messy separation, took it all with an easy stride and a mischievous craving for tantalizing fun.

Hence why the three of you were now stumbling outside the theatre post-show. All giggles and airy thoughts.

Logan arrived not long after your first call of distress.

Distress, perhaps, was not a fitting word for someone who so willingly submitted to the promising rush of the three pinkity drinkities you consumed.

“Hello?” You had hiccuped.

Logan could hear the knowing smile you had on your face even through the speaker.

“I take it girls’ night was a success?” He asked, already getting up from bed and putting on a jacket.

“A slam dunk, a home run, a goal in the net,” you replied with a breathy laugh.

“Where are you?”

He heard some rustling, your voice getting fainter as you presumably turned to speak to your friends. “Allie, where are we?”

Allie squinted at the sign, “It says Lexington and 6th Street.”

You returned to your phone, “Between Lexington and 6th.”

“By Rockside theatre and arts center!” He heard Hannah’s voice chime in.

Logan nodded despite you being unable to see it. “I will be there in 15 minutes. Are you girls outside or inside?”

“Outside,” you replied, watching as Hannah had to wrestle Allie’s phone away before she broke the 36 hour rule with Sean.

“Can you go back inside for me, please?” Logan asked nicely. You could hear the rumbling growl of his jeep’s engine starting.

“Back where the shirtless boys are? Tempting.”

You could practically picture the fond eye roll he probably made at your remark. “Back where it’s safe, gorgeous.” He clarified.

“The place is closed now, silly.”

He hummed in thought. “Okay. Sit tight. Don’t wander without Allie and Hannah.”

True to his word, he arrived 15 minutes later. You raised your arms up in celebration at the sight of the familiar car pulling up in front of you three.

He stepped out the jeep and rounded around to you. Your arms remained upright, awaiting your welcome hug. “Logan!”

He pulled you in with a soft kiss on your head. His eyes quickly assessed your whole body, silently running a prompt diagnostic to evaluate what level of tipsy you were currently exhibiting. His conclusion? A solid 4/10. Manageable.

His gaze turned to the other two musketeers; Hannah at a 3, and Allie at a striking 9. Not so manageable.

“Come on, let me get you guys back to the house,” Logan said, gesturing his head to the jeep.

Hannah shook her head, “Garrett’s coming to take Allie and I back to our dorm.”

“Guess I’m all yours,” you said in the sexiest tone you could muster in your state, running a finger down Logan’s chest.

Logan let out a huff of amusement and looked at the girls. “He say when he’s coming?”

“Should be another 10 minutes,” Hannah replied, now holding Allie’s head that kept lulling off to the side.

Logan, being the responsible and excellent man that he was, planted himself right there against the wall of the theatre and waited until Garrett arrived. He was not leaving Hannah and Allie to wait alone, in the dark, at night. Over his dead body.

“Aww, thanks, Logan,” Allie cooed, swaying in her step.

“Do you wanna wait in the car, Al? You’re moving very precariously,” he suggested, glancing at her from top to bottom with caution and care.

She shook her head, “Fresh air soothes me.” Though Logan didn’t think her statement was entirety factual, he let it slide, nodding politely.

You giggled, “You should’ve seen her on stage, Loge. She was a star.”

Logan raised his brows, “Oh yeah?”

Hannah nodded with an impressed smile, “Allie gave those boys a run for their money.”

Logan always knew Allie belonged on a stage, so hearing this was not shocking at all. He gave a supportive smile, “I bet.”

Allie raised her head off Hannah’s palm and looked at you and Logan, “Your girlfriend was the real stunner. Two of the dancers wanted her to come up for crowd work, but she declined both times.”

Logan froze.

He had to remind himself that he was not a possessive man so easily threatened by other males. Yet, Allie’s slurred comment raised alarm bells.

“Yeah?” His eyes settled on you.

Your cheeks warmed a little, and you shook your hand dismissively. “Audience participation is a big part of these strip shows. I was probably just the most convenient target since I sat by the aisle.”

“Once is convenience, twice is favoritism,” Allie sang.

Hannah looked at you, “I sat by the aisle too and they didn’t ask me,” she reminded.

“Face it, babes. You’re hot stuff,” Allie said with a wink before nearly tripping on her own feet if Hannah hadn’t been holding her arm.

This was all such useful information for Logan.

You hummed, appreciating the compliment and reveling in the flattery. “Thanks, Allie baby. But like I told you during the show, I don’t need a shirtless guy grinding up on me.”

Logan’s jaw ticked.

He was now leaning his arm on a spot on the wall that was by your head. You looked up at him through your lashes. Your wandering hand didn’t think twice before your palm settled on his abdomen. “Unless it’s you.”

Hannah and Allie giggled in that way only girls did when they were truly giddy.

Logan’s lips tugged into that easy smirk he mastered; not cocky enough to be a douche, but definitely not humble enough to pass for innocent.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist, keeping your hand right where it was. “Yeah?” His voice was lower, dangerously charismatic.

“Mhm, we got Magic Mike right here,” you responded, and he did not stop you when you lifted his cotton shirt up to reveal those glorious abs of his, sculpted from relentless hockey mornings and restless nights at the garage.

Logan had to bite his bottom lip to stop his mouth from splitting into a smug bastard’s grin. He shook his head in unserious exasperation, but really it was an excuse to lock in.

The girls and you chuckled freely, high off the drinks and fun night. Suddenly, the idea of Logan being a Magic Mike dancer seemed to be the most hilariously entertaining thing the three of you could imagine.

And because Logan was Logan—and what is Logan if not a devious charmer in sheep’s clothing—he put his free hand on the wall by the other side of your head, caging you in. The girls’ laughter doubled with accompanying squeals of hysteria.

You giggled too, feeling very much content and fine with this strapping 6 ft something hockey player holding you hostage against the wall with his fit body. You did not need any saving here.

Hannah snapped a quick photo that she would most definitely be sending into the group chat once morning comes.

Logan dipped his head down, teasing you by not kissing you, but staying right there in the crook of your neck. You felt his soft breathing against your skin. Goosebumps rippled through you, and you felt yourself squirm in place. Such sweet torture.

“Did they do this in the show?” Logan whispered by your ear.

You shook your head, “No, but now I wish they did.”

Logan pressed a kiss below your ear and pulled away, just in time, too, as Garrett’s black car pulled up right next to them.

Hannah and Allie sighed, “Our savior!” Allie breathed out in relief.

Garrett shot a curious and amused look Logan’s way, but did not ask follow-up questions. He simply guided his girlfriend and friend into his car. In similar fashion, Logan walked you over to his jeep with a hand on the small of your back.

Logan left you on aux duty, and he regretted his decision immediately when you played Pony by Ginuwine.

He shot you a look, but you were too busy dancing in the passenger seat to the music. Your eyes met his and you played oblivious to his reaction. Defeated, Logan simply shook his head with a smile and clipped his seatbelt on.

You were so getting it tonight.

Despite the fact that you were twins, the four minutes he spent on earth before you were born.

Were enough to cement his position in always keeping you safe. 

When your dad went off there were only a handful of times that Garrett didn’t get between you both and that came down to the fact that he wasn’t there when it happened. 

He had been your protector and also your biggest confidant. When your mom passed away it was the hardest thing for the two of you to learn how to live without the other right there next to them. 

It also meant that there were a few stupid promises that had been kept since the day before you were sent to California. 

Like the one where the suggestion of tacos and sundaes meant that one twin needed the other more than anything else, well them and the meal you two often had in the back of your mom’s car. 

And that was exactly how you told Garrett you needed to talk to him “are you sure you don’t want me in there?” Logan asked as his hand reached for yours. 

You squeezed his hand as you forced a smile onto your face “yeah baby I need to tell him alone.” You nodded as you hoped it would make Garrett be a little softer on Logan. 

Because how exactly are you not meant to kill the guy that knocked your sister up?

Your eyes travelled to the hockey house, standing quiet and peaceful as if it was blissfully unaware of the news that was about to be released within it’s walls “he loves you no matter what.” Logan reminded you as he squeezed your hand.

You felt sick as you pressed your head against the headrest “maybe he just doesn’t need to know about the baby-” you proposed as you looked down at your stomach. 

It made Logan laugh “and what would our plan be in like seven months?” He pointed out as he knew that there would come a point where you were clearly showing.

A harsh sigh escaped from your lips as you frowned “maybe I am just in a real big food coma.” You shrugged, bringing your hands to your head. 

Logan shook his head as he smiled, “as beautiful as I think you’ll be.” He trailed off as he leaned over the centre console “I do think that your brother will more than likely figure out what is happening when we start having to make a nursey.” Logan had been planning exactly how you guys would decorate a place. 

You always had assumed that if you were still together by the end of junior year, that you’d move in together so it was a logical thought during the start of apartment hunting. Because as much as you were starting to accept the concept of having a baby, you also knew that you were going to need space to house another whole human.

The weather around you was kind, ensuring that the day had perfect warm sunny weather for a day like this “lets go before I change our names and move us to Mexico.” You grumbled making Logan laugh once more “no more farm in Vermont?” 

The joke made you turn to Logan with a glare as you tried your best to hold back a laugh “no but seriously we really should get in before the neighbours think that something is up.” Logan nodded as he got out of his truck. 

He was quick to run around to your side, like he always did. Making sure that your door was opened by his hand and never yours “I love you baby.” Logan’s voice was soft as he kissed your lips. 

You blushed at his words “you are lucky you’re cute because I love you too.” Your hand rested on your stomach as you thought about the predicament that you were now in. 

And the many TikToks that you saw doomscrolling of children making a mess that you swore was meant to be the birth control that you missed out on a few weeks back. 

Logan pushed the door open to the house as you held the food. Both of you were quiet as you refused to speak first.

Almost as if you were fearing that you were going to let out some unintelligible word vomit or going to be actually sick.

Garrett was sat on the couch when you opened the door to the house “hey guys.” Garrett looked as if he had struggled to get any sleep since he waited for you to come over.

Logan placed a hand on your shoulder “I’ll go elsewhere.” Logan disappeared down the hallway before Garrett's eyes narrowed.

The second the sound of a door clicking shut echoed through the house; Garrett looked between the tacos in your hands and the tears already gathering in your eyes “what's wrong?" he asked immediately.

You hated how fast he noticed, how he could read you like the back of his hand “nothing." You shook your head as you avoided his eyes not wanting to break immediately. 

"That's a lie."

You dropped onto the couch beside him with a groan, placing the food on the coffee table as Garrett watched every movement carefully “you brought tacos and sundaes." Your stomach twisted as you watched Garrett contemplate reaching for some food.

"Yeah."

Garrett watched you swirl your spoon in your sundae “you only do that when something's wrong." The room fell quiet and Garrett's heart sank.

Because his mind immediately jumped to every possible worst-case scenario. Had someone hurt you? Were you sick? Had Logan done something stupid enough to finally earn a funeral?

"Did somebody die?" 

His brain racked through all the possible people that could have been gone at that point. 

"No."

Your eyebrows raised as you shook your head “are you hurt?" Garrett scanned your body for bruises or something that could have shown him that you were hurt.

"Did Logan cheat on you?"

Your head snapped, finally accepting that you really couldn’t leave him with the guessing game he had going on “what? No!" You gasped almost concerned that Garrett even thought that it was a possiblity. 

Garrett visibly relaxed for half a second before immediately becoming worried again.

"Okay then what is it?"

You stared down at your hands.

The speech you had rehearsed in the truck suddenly disappeared from your brain.

Every single word.

Garrett waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until finally he groaned and leaned forward "you are freaking me out right now." A nervous laugh escaped your lips.

"Sorry."

Your shoulders tensed as you huffed.

Garrett shook his head "don't apologise. Just tell me." Your eyes started to sting.

You had imagined this conversation a hundred different ways.

Some versions involved yelling.

Some involved Garrett punching Logan.

One particularly dramatic version involved you running away to become those goat farmers.

None of them had prepared you for how hard it was going to be to actually say it.

Garrett watched your bottom lip wobble.

His expression immediately softened “hey,” your eyes lifted as his hand rested on top of yours "whatever it is, we'll figure it out." The familiar words nearly broke you.

Because that was the problem.

You already knew there wasn't a way to figure it out.

Not really.

The situation was already happening.

And neither one of you could try to put a stop on it.

Your fingers twisted the fabric of your shirt together "your promise you won't be mad?” Garrett snorted into his sundae as he shook his head. 

You shot him a look "I'm serious." As you remembered how the two of you used to stick your tongues out when you’d have your back and fourths as kids. 

"So am I." Garrett replied as he ran his fingers through his hair "you asking that means I'm definitely gonna be mad."

A watery laugh escaped you "Garrett," you giggled as you shook your head. 

He sighed before nudging your shoulder "I promise I'll still love you." That was enough because you knew that it was the truth.

Your eyes squeezed shut.

You took a deep breath.

Then another.

And another.

Before finally forcing the words out.

"Logan and I are having a baby."

Silence.

Complete and utter silence.

The entire room seemed to freeze as both of you remained quiet. You looked as if you were ready to brace for some kind of impact. 

Garrett swore he was going to throw up as the words echoed in his ears “how could you-” his lecture started as quickly as it ended as you burst into tears. 

Every bit of potential negative emotion in that moment washed away from him as he pulled you into his arms “we are going to smash this.” Garrett announced as he ran his fingers through your hair. 

Your tears soaked his shirt “we?” Your words were muffled against his chest “I’m not letting this kid not have the coolest uncle ever.” The two of you had always spoken about living on the same street when you were older, having kids that would be the closest cousins ever. 

“And besides Logan will be a good dad.” 

Your brother had seen how the boy had been around the young kids at hockey camps and as much as none of the other guys wanted to admit it, Logan was always the kids favourite. 

Garrett could feel how your cheeks tightened when you smiled “and you are going to be the best mom this kid could ever want.” Garrett had watched you as a kid with your baby dolls and the way you were so passionate about bringing them to his games and caring for those dolls. 

It made you look up at your brother now “you really think so?” You hadn’t really thought about what you’d be like as a mother. 

You had honestly been processing what it was going to be like telling everyone so you hadn’t gotten a chance to properly think about what was going to happen when your baby was out in the world. 

Garrett nodded “besides, watching you at dad’s wedding is going to be like the funniest thing ever.” The way he laughed made your heart drop as you had totally forgotten about how your dad was meant to get married to Cindy. 

The event was bound to have cameras and media around; as if there was one thing that Phil liked, it was being the centre of the media’s attention. 

Your eyes went wide “I’m gonna be fat like a whale!” Your lower lip quivered as you threw your head back into Garrett’s chest. 

The boys eyes went wide “fuck no I’m sorry.” Garrett mentally cursed himself as he cringed, rubbing your back. 

Logan stuck his head out of the kitchen “I thought you two were meant to be having a good conversation?” The boy felt like there were a bit too many tears coming from you for this to be a good thing. 

Garrett sighed “you gonna love me when I’m a whale?” Your question came out muffled as your face was still against Garrett’s chest. 

The boys didn’t know who the question was directed at but they weren’t going to give you a chance to ask the question a second time. Both boys were in the middle of profusely swearing up and down that the idea was so beyond preposterous. 

They were going back and forth as their words were drowning out the sounds of your sobs.

Tucker and Dean walked in and immediately stopped when they saw you in tears, Garrett comforting you and Logan looking like he was going to practically combust if someone else did something wrong “should we just come back later?” Dean spoke up first as he furrowed his eyebrows at you “and why do you look like someone just hit a dog?”

That was enough to make the floodgates open all over again “dude!” Garrett groaned, pulling you back into another hug as he rubbed your back. 

The blonde took a step back as he cocked his head “did you do something?” His attention focused on Logan who scratched the back of his neck “god no!” 

It made you look at him with a glare “well how else did we end up with a baby in my belly?” You grumbled, deciding that all of your few found sensitivities were Logan’s fault. 

Tucker dropped his groceries on the floor much like how that news slipped out of your lips “you’re pregnant?” Tucker and Dean looked back at each other trying to make sure that thery had both heard it right. 

You nodded as the boys smiled, practically charging over the couch to hug you “we’re going to be uncles!” 

Garrett couldn’t help it when he looked confused “you know I’m the only one in this room thats not one of the parents that’s actually related to the kid right?” 

His words made Dean glare at him “don’t you dare take this away from me, Graham.”