#background established roceit

It was finally Wednesday evening and the pair had met for their second date at the Museum of Natural History for a members-only preview of the new gemstone exhibit. The presumably exclusive event had turned the ordinarily tame main hall into a raucous zoo of over-dressed patrons milling about with champagne glasses and under-chilled paté. The crowd mingled and gossiped while they took selfies in front of the T-Rex and feigned appreciation for the geological significance of an unpolished, six-thousand kilogram garnet.

Remus and Logan had spent ten torturous minutes braving the crowd before making their escape down to the quieter and cooler ocean life display. It was one of the older exhibits in the museum and, tonight, at least, was nearly empty. One other couple had also made their way out of the fray to take advantage of the relative calm of the surrounding sea dioramas. Still, the guard watched the two of them like a nervous chaperone, seeming to fear they would suddenly strip and start rutting right there on the polished wooden bench.

Remus’ phone buzzed and he quickly checked it. He mimed a disappointed look when he read Logan’s serious response. He slid a few inches away from Logan on the bench, eyeing him carefully. He began tapping at his phone, composing a new message. He wrote for a long time. At one point, Logan tried to peer over his shoulder to see what he was writing but Remus stuck out his tongue and twisted away, obscuring his screen from the shorter man’s view.

Rolling his eyes and grinning, Logan crossed his legs and pointedly stared out at the coral reef diorama in the nearest display case as Remus continued to tap away at his phone. Finally, Remus’ tapping ceased and Logan held his phone tightly in anticipation, waiting for the buzz that would alert him that he’d received Remus’ message. Finally, he felt his phone vibrate and after a moment, Remus playfully stomped his foot, staring at Logan. Pressing his lips tightly together to suppress his laughter, Logan made a show of counting to sixty before checking his phone.

Finally, he opened the message and began to read the rather lengthy text Remus had composed. He nearly dropped his phone when he got about fifty words in and Remus let out a sharp cackle before whispering, “Sorry!” to the guard, covering his mouth with his hand. Logan’s neck and face grew hot and before he’d even finished reading the message, he stood and tugged at Remus’ sleeve. He leaned close to his ear to whisper, “How about we get out of here and you can show me if you really mean that?”

Shimmying his shoulders, Remus purred back in his ear, “All you had to do was ask!”

Their muffled chuckles echoed through the lobby as they raced toward the exit hand-in-hand. Logan and Remus burst out laughing as they ran and pushed their way through the revolving doors, spilling out into the mild spring night. They caught their breath at the top of the steps, Logan hiding his face behind Remus' shoulder as passerbys stared at the pair in tuxedos behaving like children who'd escaped a field trip. Remus grinned and made an exaggerated shushing motion at one greying woman who glared at them as she walked her Shiba Inu. "Shhh!" he stage whispered. "Keep it down or our parents'll catch us."

Logan stiffened briefly and rubbed his crooked fingers. They still ached sometimes from the fractures that had never been properly set. He tried to force away the memory.

Seeming to notice Logan's sudden shift in mood, Remus turned and cupped his cheek. Logan closed his eyes as he placed his hand over Remus', capturing the warmth of the taller man's palm against his face. He smiled up at him and leaned closer, inhaling the soft musky fragrance of his cologne and the hint of cinnamon from his favorite mints.

Remus wrapped his other arm around Logan's waist, closing the distance between them and capturing his lips in a breathless kiss.

When they came up for air, Remus murmured against Logan's ear, his hot breath sending a cascade of goosebumps over his flesh. "Can I bring you home?"

"Y—yes," Logan croaked before clearing his throat. You can bring me anywhere. He shook his head slightly, grasping at his last tendrils of logical thought. "We'll have an easier time getting a Lyft or a cab if we get crosstown first." He tilted his chin toward the entrance of Central Park across the street. "It's a lovely night. We could cut across the park."

"Oh, Mr. Sanders! You're not trying to get me into the park for a little public indecency, are you?" Logan’s breath hitched and then he felt a flash of shame when Remus continued, shaking his head. “Oh, no, that’s wrong.” Remus let his hands fall down to Logan's hips and swayed them back and forth as he growled against Logan’s neck. "What I meant to say is 'please take me into the park for a little public indecency!'"

Logan’s voice momentarily failed him. Finally he managed to whisper back, “It would be unwise at this time of the night. NYPD has extra patrols after dark.’ Remus pulled back slightly and gazed into his eyes, a little pout tugging at his lower lip. Logan felt himself getting lost in those emerald pools. “Besides,” he continued, “I do not believe what you texted me would work outdoors.”

A half an hour later, they were mid-way through the park, and had stopped to admire the way the moon reflected off of Turtle Pond… and because Logan couldn’t resist the way the moonlight reflected off of Remus’ eyes and had drawn him into a kiss. Remus' hands felt hot against his body where he'd slipped them underneath his tuxedo jacket, seeming to burn through the cotton of his shirt. He’d started to melt into Remus’ embrace when a sudden sound drew his attention and he broke away.

“What’s wrong?” Remus asked, arms still wrapped around Logan’s waist as he turned, staring out at the poorly lit path around them. He’d just opened his mouth to respond when a gangly man in a worn leather jacket stepped out of the shadows, the glint of a knife flashing near his hip.

“Oye, lovebirds. Your wallets, now.”

Remus made a surprised sound as Logan stepped between him and the man with the knife. “I don’t think so. Move along.”

“Shut the fuck up, petardo, and gimme your fucking wallets!” The man lunged toward them. Logan grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer and he twisted the man’s hand up against his own chest, just puncturing his shirt with the tip of his own knife. Keeping his body between Remus and the man, Logan pressed his fingers into the soft juncture of his neck and shoulder and hissed quietly in his ear. “Maldito pendejo, lo tocas y desearías que solo te hubiero matado. Lárgate de aquí!” (You fucking idiot, touch him and you’ll wish that I’d only killed you. Get the fuck out of here.)

The man struggled, wincing as Logan’s fingers dug painfully into his shoulder. Logan calmly stared into his eyes, pushing the man’s hand and the tip of the knife against his ribs. His eyes widened and Logan could feel the tiny pop reverberate through the man’s hand as the tip of the sharp blade pierced his skin. The man dropped the knife and ran. Logan kicked the knife off the path and into the lake, then turned to Remus.

“Are you okay?” he asked as he reached up to cup Remus’ face in his hands. Logan’s brow furrowed as he searched his eyes, gently brushing his thumbs over Remus’ cheekbones, his lips. He felt the rock in his stomach soften when Remus’ mouth curled up in a smile.

“Holy fuck that was hot!” Remus bounced on the balls of his feet and squeezed Logan’s shoulders, looking him up and down with wide eyes. “What the fuck did you say to him? My Spanish is rusty, but I think I heard the word ‘dead?’”

Logan tried to laugh, shaking his head. “It—it was nothing. I—I just told him, um, that your dead grandmother’s rosary was in your wallet. I, um, I was just going for sympathy but I… I think it spooked him and he thought I was trying to curse him.”

“Damn,” Remus bit his lower lip, “We’re gonna have to find out what else you can say in Spanish.”

Looking up and down the dark path, Logan suppressed a shudder and forced the smile to remain on his lips. “If we start moving again, I can give you a preview… “ Remus grinned and tugged at Logan’s hand. Once they were several yards away and on a brighter section of the trail through the park, Logan whispered in his ear, “Vamos a follar hasta que no podamos caminar.”

Remus sucked in a breath and held his hand tighter. “I know half those words and they’re all good.”

---

Later that night, Logan lay wrapped in Remus’ arms, his back pressed against the heat of his chest. Logan was tracing the sharp, shadowed lines of his favorite part of Remus’ tattoo sleeves. It was a simple monochrome design that depicted a grinning, robed skeleton bearing the scales of justice, lifting the edge of his blindfold and peeking out. He smiled as Remus nuzzled the back of his neck, the bristles of his mustache sending sparks across Logan's skin.

Remus’ low voice rumbled against his back and it sent a fuzzy heat through his body. “Will you stay tonight?” He closed his eyes. Logan knew he should say no. He was too relaxed, too unfiltered, too raw around this man. It left him vulnerable and put him at risk of letting down his guard completely and making a mistake.

Remus turned him around in his embrace, a soft, hopeful smile lighting up his face.

No. Say no, Logan. Say no. No.

Steeling himself, Logan met Remus' dancing eyes and took a deep breath.

“Yes,” Logan whispered. “I’d love to stay.”

Wrapped in Remus’ arms, every cell in his body felt alive, each sensation overpowering his controls. Their heated skin, the fluffy cloud of the covers half-draped over their bodies, the sudden flex of Remus’ muscles as he leaned in to kiss his mouth… all of it roiled through his skin, his flesh, his bones. His heart swelled and he felt warmed from the inside out while his mind buzzed with a soft chant of Remus’ name.

Logan closed his eyes and let go, falling into their kiss.

---

It was nearly dawn when hunger finally lured them from Remus’ bedroom. Logan was swimming in a borrowed hoodie and pair of slightly too-long joggers. Remus had reluctantly slipped on a pair of fleece shorts only after Logan reminded him that the curtains were still open in the living room.

Remus poked around in his refrigerator and his freezer. “Do you like lasagna?” He pulled a wrapped package from the top shelf.

“Hmm… that appears to be home-made.”

Remus scoffed and pressed a hand to his chest. “Of course it is! Are you implying that writers can’t cook?”

Laughing, Logan laced his fingers behind Remus’ neck and pulled him down into a slow kiss, stopping only when the other suddenly broke away as the dish threatened to slip from his grip. “Will that suffice for an apology?”

“Ah, well... We’ll have to see,” Remus feigned a hurt look that was belied by the happy twitching of his mustache and the flush crawling from his chest and neck up to his hairline. “How about I get this in the oven… and then you can try your apology again?”

The moment Remus closed the oven door, Logan put one hand on his hip and the other gently twisted through his hair. He tugged at his body until Remus faced him and he hungrily captured his lips. Snaking one hand around Logan's waist and the other across his back, Remus drew their bodies closer together, deepening the kiss.

Suddenly, Remus stiffened, making a low whining sound in the back of his throat. Logan pulled away, wide eyes scanning Remus’ face. "What is it? Did I—did I hurt you?"

He shook his head rapidly, pulling him back into their embrace. "No, no, no, everything's fine, I—” he crushed their lips together again and Logan hummed happily.

Remus broke away again, a small frustrated groan bursting from his lips. "Ugh, I'm so sorry… I—I—” he fumbled at the countertop, reaching for a pen cup. "I just gotta write something down before it—" he made a floaty motion with his hand, then grinned when his fingers closed on a Sharpie.

A low, pleased laugh began to bubble up from Logan's chest as he released him. "Oh, of course…" Logan watched as Remus scribbled furiously on his hand with the marker. Once he ran out of room on his left hand, Remus switched, and continued his frantic scrawl on his right. Logan grinned and began to tug him toward his bedroom.

He steered him down the hall, toward his desk and storyboard and turned on the desk lamp, where Remus seamlessly picked up an index card, swapped the marker for a pen, and continued to write. Logan sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him with rapt attention.

After several minutes of writing, Remus began to tack some of the new cards up on his storyboard. He took a step back and peered at the board, head tilted. He suddenly leapt forward, shifting the red string from one pinned point to another. In a flurry of writing and sketching, Remus added more cards and attached them to the board, as well. Several of the existing cards ended up in a small stack in the corner of his desk, which Remus now shuffled through, sorting into three separate piles.

Logan watched him for a few more minutes and then wordlessly left the room. He returned a short while later with a handful of napkins, a large glass of ice water, and a cup of tea, setting them down on a clear spot at the far edge of the desk. While Logan was gone, Remus had pulled out a larger sheet of heavy paper and had begun to sketch with charcoal, a shadowed, interlocking pattern of what looked like stones now covering most of the page.

After several more minutes of sketching and note-taking, Logan squinted at the clock. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Remus actually drink anything, so he picked up a napkin and wrapped it around the glass to absorb the condensation on its surface. He stroked Remus’ arm and held out the water, smiling at his vacantly surprised expression. “Drink,” he said, as he nodded at the glass in his hand. Remus finished half of it in a few gulps before resuming his work.

The next two hours followed a similar pattern. Every thirty or so minutes, Logan would place either the water glass or the tea in Remus’ hand and he would drink greedily for a few seconds before returning his attention to the storyboard. About half-way through his explosion of creativity, the savory aroma of the baking lasagna wafted into the bedroom. Logan's stomach grumbled but Remus seemed unaffected. Logan went to the kitchen and peeled back the aluminum foil and allowed it to cook, uncovered, for five minutes more. Finally, he removed it from the oven and set it aside, loosely covered, and checked on Remus.

Remus was standing in front of his storyboard, one hand gripping three different colored pencils, the other tangled in his hair. He turned when Logan let a floorboard creak as he re-entered the room. “I’ve almost got it,” he whispered as though he feared speaking any louder would disrupt the cards set out on his desk.

Logan stood behind him and drew his arms around his waist, slowly stroking the smooth skin near his hips with his thumbs. He gave Remus a gentle squeeze and kissed his bare shoulder. “Would talking help?” he asked, just as quietly.

Licking his lips, eyes darting between the board and the cards in front of him, Remus nodded. He picked up a card and held it out in front of a tangled mass on the outer edge of the board. “I need the antagonist to get away with murder.” Logan stiffened, and Remus added, “Attempted murder. It’s too soon for the protagonist to know that the lab tech is really the scientist from the last book. I just need to slow her down, but she can’t actually die yet.” He bit his lip, turning to look at Logan. “And she can’t be suspicious. She has to think it’s an accident or….”

Logan furrowed his brow, “You could make her sick.”

“No, she’s healthy and able…”

“No, I mean, have the lab tech administer something that would make her ill. But not anything that would come up on a tox screen if she were to test herself.”

Remus nodded rapidly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Yeah! She’s totally the type to test her own blood as soon as she’s feeling under the weather.” He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, she’s maybe a little paranoid,” he laughed.

“It is not an unreasonable concern. Her lab tech is actually trying to poison her.” Logan winked at Remus.

His eyes were fixed again on the board and he leaned over, feeling for his laptop. “What can he give her, though, that she wouldn’t notice and that would make her sick enough to bench her for a chapter or two?” He opened the laptop and a fresh browser tab. Remus’ hands hovered over the keys as he gnawed at his lip, thinking.

“For how long do you need the illness to last?”

Chuckling, Remus joked, “I know. We’ll order one illness on drugstore.com, three to five days’ worth.”

Logan found the card on the board with each character’s breakdown. “No allergies?” he asked.

Remus sighed and shook his head.

“Does she drink coffee?”

“By the gallon.”

“Flavored coffee?” Logan raised an eyebrow.

Remus grinned and rubbed his hands together, “What are you thinking?”

“Cinnamon oil would be unlikely to come up on a tox screen unless she was specifically looking for it. If she is a habitual coffee drinker, and”—he pointed to her character card—”a heavy smoker, she won’t likely taste much of it. In the proper concentration, you could induce something akin to a diabetic coma.” He raised a finger when Remus scrunched his nose. “But she’s not actually diabetic, so she would recover as long as the initial dose was properly titrated.” He shrugged. “She’d only feel like she was dying. For a few days.”

Remus clapped his hands together, his mustache dancing over his grin as he beamed at Logan. “I like it!” He looked over the board. “That would give the antagonist time to clear out the evidence from his storage locker and—”

Logan shook his head. “He wouldn’t have a storage locker. Not at a reputable facility that would be sufficiently secure to hide anything important. It would be unwise to pay with a credit card—it’s too traceable. And the decent ones don’t take cash.” Logan shrugged. “If he’s smart, he’d rent a motel room for a few days while he needs a place to store the extra equipment.”

“Logan!” Remus grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him fiercely. “You just saved me from a plot hole!” He stepped back, tugging at his mustache. “Or… Oh! That’s how he gets caught. Yes!” Remus scrawled something on another card and tacked it on the upper edge of the board. Engrossed in his process, Remus continued to fill index cards as he spoke. “That’s it! Fuck, yes! Oh, Logan! How do you feel about a fall wedding? You’re a keeper!”

Logan blushed and watched Remus write for a few more minutes. Finally, he gathered Remus’ empty glass and tea cup to refill them. In the kitchen, he set a timer for one hour, pledging to himself to make Remus stop to eat if he was still working when it sounded. Returning to Remus’ bedroom, Logan set down a fresh cup of tea and a full glass of water before settling into Remus’ desk chair with his own tea to watch Remus create.

---

Remus woke with a yawn that came out more like a groan. He was pleasantly warm, the room bright with sunshine diffused through the sheer curtains Logan had helped him select a few weeks ago. Over the last month or so, the pair had fallen into a comfortable pattern. Their dates would begin somewhere innocuous and, perhaps, a little tourist-y. Last week, it had been the South Street Seaport. Last night had been Lincoln Center. Wherever they met, inevitably, they would make their way back to Remus's apartment and the hours would slip away as they lost themselves in each other.

“Hmm, you’re awake,” Logan’s voice purred, quiet and low and gravelly. Remus closed his eyes and sighed contentedly as Logan tightened his arms around his body and nuzzled sleepily against his neck.

“Mm-hm…” Remus smiled, relishing the warmth of Logan’s body seeping through his skin. He sunk into the sensation, feeling their limbs meld together. His eyes snapped open when realized just how much he was feeling. “Oh! Well, good morning? Ah, are you, um…?”

A small laugh bubbled against Remus’ ear, the sound rumbling from deep in Logan’s throat. He hummed again, feather-light kisses against Remus’ back punctuating his words. “Waking up with you… amazing, sexy… naked in my arms… I believe it is an unavoidable condition.”

He held his breath as Logan’s hand gently brushed down his chest and his belly. Remus felt the man’s smile grow against his shoulder. “And I see it’s a mutual condition.” His cheeks flushed. “I must ask you a question, though…”

His low voice reverberated through the skin of Remus’ back. Breath caught in his throat, Remus managed to whisper, "Anything."

Logan pulled him closer and growled against the side of his neck, "What do you plan to do about it?"

Remus’ heart pounded in his chest. He rolled over and melted from the heat in Logan’s eyes. “Oh, I’ve got some ideas….”

---

Finally, the march of time and their undeniable need for a good scrub brought them back to a bit of reality. After a longer-than-strictly necessary shower, Logan helped Remus strip the bed of the wrinkled sheets, re-making it with a fresh set from the linen closet. Before replacing the pillows, Logan tugged at something caught between the mattress and the headboard and pulled out Remus’ weighted blanket.

“Oh, sorry," Remus mumbled. "Um, I’ll take that.” He looked down, blushing and hands twitching as he worked to fold the heavy material. He looked around for somewhere to stash it.

Logan smiled, “Weighted blankets are a valuable tool for managing anxiety. You needn’t hide it unless you wish to.” He stood near the foot of Remus’ bed and held out his hands, eyebrows raised. Remus brought it to him and Logan carefully laid the folded blanket over the foot of the bed, smoothing it out and tugging at the edges until it was perfectly symmetrical. “It will be easier to reach when you need it if you keep it out.”

Remus stared down at his bed. “Thanks, it… it looks nice like this.” His voice was rough but he smiled as he looped an arm around Logan’s waist and drew him closer. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you relax while I make us some coffee? And maybe some breakfast? I’ve got bagels and stuff.”

Logan chuckled as he brushed a hand down Remus’ chest. “You do not need to serve me. I’m happy to help.”

“Nuh-huh.” Remus shook his head, now grinning. “Nope. You’re going to relax and I’m going to make you breakfast or lunch whatever the hell we should call it.”

He started toward the doorway and Logan began to follow so Remus spread his arms across the open door, playfully blocking the hallway. “You shall not pass!”

Laughing, Logan let out an exaggerated sigh and sat at Remus’ desk. “Fine….”

“There ya go… look, your phone’s right there. You can watch YouTube or something.” Logan laughed and shook his head, squealing in surprise when Remus snuck one more kiss against the back of his neck before escaping out to the kitchen.

Still smiling, Logan picked up his phone. After confirming his VPN was still running, he checked his email. There was a small flurry of auto-notifications from several buy and sell orders that a recent IPO series had triggered. He scanned each of them and saw nothing concerning. Having the discipline to follow through on the fact that no human being could actually have more perfect knowledge than the best stock market algorithms made his job simple sometimes. Once he'd made his human decisions around the small 10% he allotted for it in his portfolio, the remaining 90% was all automated, fully in the hands of the algorithm.

It had served him well, with the AI-managed portions of his portfolio consistently outperforming the other 10%, and dramatically outperforming the indices.

He set a reminder to check the Nikkei in twelve hours and gave his attention to the rest of his inbox. Sighing, he opened the email from his brother and called down the hall to Remus. “Patton sent another one.”

Remus entered the room with two cups of coffee. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

Logan rolled his eyes and read from the screen. “‘What do you call an indecisive bee?’” Remus grinned and raised his eyebrows. Suppressing a groan, Logan accepted the coffee and muttered, “A maybe.”

Remus threw his head back, laughing. “I should’ve seen that one coming. Okay, send him this one…” He held Logan’s coffee for a moment to let him type his response. He wiggled in place for a moment, then laughed. “Okay, ‘Did you hear about the gullible cow who visited a tannery?’”

Logan shook his head, unable to stifle a groaning laugh. “Oh, this cannot end well.”

Remus bit his lip and grinned. “‘She was easily suede.’”

“You know, I could just give you Patton’s email address and you two could trade awful puns all day long and leave me out of it.”

Remus sat down next to Logan on the bed and returned his coffee. As soon as his hand was freed, he brushed back a lock of Logan’s still-damp hair and lightly kissed the shell of his ear. “But watching you roll your eyes at our corny jokes is half the fun.”

He kissed the side of his head and returned to the kitchen to finish cooking. Logan scrolled further down, deleting several messages without bothering to open them until he saw the subject Matchr Data Request/GDPR User Request Response #9293.

Logan opened the email and quickly scanned the standard mashup of marketspeak and legalese boilerplate. 'Thank you for your interest in the services we provide you at Matchr, the internet's top matching service. As part of our commitment to you and your privacy, here is a compilation of all data...

He paused at the size of the data file. 254.37 MB, zipped. Logan shook his head. That shouldn't be possible. How did you get your grubby little hands on that much data about me?

Logan flagged the email to review once he went home later that afternoon and closed his email just as Remus returned, smiling, carrying a tray of toasted bagels, a large bowl of strawberries and more coffee.

He set the tray on the side of the bed and, with a flourish, waved and snapped open a cloth napkin he'd had draped over his arm. Winking, he laid the napkin over Logan's lap, letting his fingers brush against his thighs as he did. "Oh, excuse me, sir," he said, before turning to reach for Logan's empty cup. Pushing aside all thoughts of emails and data files and puns, Logan pulled Remus onto his lap, laughing as he warned, "Watch out for the tray!"

---

Janus got to the office early the following Monday. The team was scheduled to meet their angel investors that afternoon and he hadn’t yet found the hook for their presentation. Once the rest of the team, including his garrulous assistant and his loving but incredibly distracting husband, arrived, no amount of concentration would grant him the focus he needed to properly prepare. He opened his office door and scowled when the motion detector in his office did not turn on the lights. He slapped at the switch on the wall and swore under his breath when the office remained dark. Leaving the door to slowly close behind him, Janus had taken one step toward his desk when his small banker’s lamp suddenly clicked on.

Logan Sanders sat in his tall leather chair, legs crossed at the ankle, feet propped on the edge of the desk. “You’ve been careless, Mr. Woods.” he said, not looking up as Janus stared at him, the door closing behind him with a quiet clunk. He hummed, adjusting his glasses as he flipped through a thick sheaf of printed algorithm output. “Rather more arrogant than strictly sloppy, though, I suppose.”

Janus’s eyes widened as he fumbled behind his back, grasping for the door handle.

“Don’t bother.” Gaze still fixed on the stack of papers in his lap, Logan raised a gloved hand and waved the tiny controller he must have found fastened to the underside of the middle desk drawer. “The remote electronic locks you had installed last year are quite effective.”

Pausing his perusal of the documents, Logan invited Janus to take a seat in front of his own desk. Janus eyed where the man's boots rested on its polished surface. "You needn't worry," Logan murmured without appearing to have looked up. "I ensured the soles are clean and won't leave any residue behind to mar your lovely desk here. Mahogany, is it?"

"Red ivorywood."

Logan chuckled. "Of course it is."

“How did you get into my office?” Janus began to mentally compile a list of security staff who would no longer be staff by the end of the day.

Logan rolled his eyes. “That’s a boring question." Janus just glared. "Fine. Not using your spouse's birthdate as a key code isn't just security advice for the straights, you know." Janus felt his face grow hot. Especially when your spouse's twin is fucking a madman, he thought to himself.

"Don’t you wonder why I’m here?” Logan asked.

“I would assume Remus has told you some of our shared history and you’re here for a little revenge?”

“Oh, I assure you, this is strictly business, Mr. Woods." Logan frowned slightly, eyes still fixed on the documents before him. "If I felt the need to have a personal discussion with you, I would have stopped by your apartment on 49th street.”

“Stay the fuck away from my home.”

“Hm, well that’s just like placing a book on a high shelf and telling no-one to read it.” Logan shook his head. “Regardless, your personal failings are not my concern at the moment. I’m here about your little algorithm and the data you use to feed it.”

Janus leaned back in his seat and waved his hand as though he stood before a presentation screen. “We have an excellent track record and, from what I observed a few weeks ago, seemed to have found you a compatible match.”

“Yes, Remus and I are incredibly compatible. Literally incredible. Nearly all of my internet usage is funneled through a VPN. It should not be possible for your little system to find even a mediocre match for me, let alone someone with whom I actually have anything in common.”

Janus leaned back in his chair, tucking his arm behind him on the back rest and crossing one leg over the other, ankle at the knee. "If I understand you correctly, you had a good time on your date and so you became suspicious because our matching algorithm was too effective? That would make a great ad." Janus tried to laugh but it came out sounding choked to even his own ears. Logan’s smile grew when Janus cleared his throat. "And so you requested your full data file and found activity that you knew you performed through a VPN."

"Not a VPN. Your VPN."

"What are you talking about?" Janus' eyes shifted around the office and he discretely laid his hand over the keys in his pocket.

"TwoFace VPN, of which you are the controlling owner."

Logan held up a financial report from the stack on his desk.

"Silent owner." Janus shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. He watched as Logan’s eyes flicked over to the tremor in his fingers and he delicately folded them in his lap. "Owner on paper only. I have no visibility or control over day to day operations."

"Yes, that is correct. Your control is restricted to contracts, such as this one which grants Matchr full access to all user activity from TwoFace VPN."

Janus paled but his voice remained steady. "Pure speculation."

Tutting quietly, Logan hefted the sheaf of reports in front of him. “As you well know from the data you’ve scraped from my VPN usage, it's part of my job to read between the lines in stock filings.”

“Fine,” Janus rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, feigning boredom. “So you're bent out of shape that I know what porn sites you’ve visited and matched you to a compatible man. What's the problem?"

Logan chuckled without smiling, low and humorless. The sound made Janus’ skin crawl. “Oh, my quibble with the morality of your operation is the least of your problems. What sort of people do you suppose regularly use VPNs? You should know, they're not all trying to watch Friends on French Netflix as your advertisements might lead one to believe.”

He met Janus’ eyes, a slow smile spreading on his face. “What do you think would happen if someone actually dangerous were to be told that you had stored their VPN activity and could trace it back to them individually?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Well, yes.” Logan raised his eyebrows as though surprised. “I thought that was obvious.”

“You’d release your own data just to pwn me?”

Logan fanned through the report on his lap, opening to a seemingly random page. “Oh, you didn’t think this was a printout of my data stored in your systems, did you?” He shook his head, brow furrowed as he adjusted his glasses then tapped at the report. “No, no, no, no, no. I have something different here.”

He began to read. “‘Gambino, Carlo. Matchr ID number 937673. From gambinoc_history_full.csv row 296. Query: “hookers near me”.’” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fucking moron.” He continued to read.

“‘Row 297: “24 hour dry cleaner”.’” Logan met Janus’ eyes again while flipping through the report without looking. He resumed reading. Janus noticed that some of the pages in the report had been dogeared.

“‘Siegel, Bertrand.’” Logan pointed down at the report. “You probably know him as ‘Lil Bugsey.’ from his last racketeering trial. ‘Matchr ID number 535893. From siegelb_history_full.csv, row 917’”—he looked up briefly to raise an eyebrow at Janus—”Hm. ‘Query: “judge peter j. gable home address nyc.” Row 918, query: “directions to 222 east 39th murray hill”.’” Logan tilted his head briefly at Janus. “Interesting,” he murmured as he flipped to a new page without looking. He met Janus’ eyes, then began to read.

“‘King, Roman T. Matchr ID number 000004.’” Janus’ hands started to shake. “‘From kingrt_history_full.csv, row 118. Query: reverse lookup discord username:octodare.’” He frowned. “There’s an app for that, you know. A little tacky, though, don’t you think, to have your husband stalk your ex-boyfriend online?” He squinted at the printout. “Though… judging by the datetime stamp, my guess is this is before you were married.”

Janus narrowed his eyes, fingers digging into the armrest of his chair. “‘Row 119, query: whois dns lookup for 193.653.98.’” Logan paused, eyes trained on the report before him. “‘Row 120... Query: ‘crisis suicide text line us.’” Janus thought he heard Logan’s breath catch. He silently read the report for a few moments, then cleared his throat and flipped a few pages ahead. Logan resumed his recitation of Roman’s search history. “‘Row 2326. Query: herbal remedy erectile—’”

“That’s enough!” Janus stood, slamming his hands on the desk. Logan didn’t flinch. “You’ve made your point, Sanders.” He grit his teeth, fighting to lower his voice. “What do you want?”

“I want you to expunge all of my data. Every bit and byte of it. And I want proof that you’ve obliterated any shred of evidence of me or my data from your systems. After you’ve finished, you will grant me access to ensure you were thorough in your removal.”

“What makes you think I won't just store it elsewhere?”

Logan looked down at the report in his lap, then raised his eyebrow at him. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”

Janus glared at Logan. He took a few deep breaths, consciously relaxing his jaw to stop grinding his teeth. He let out one more slow exhale and met Logan’s eyes. “Fine. Fine, whatever it is you're hiding… I'll make sure your information is off our servers. I will then allow you three supervised hours on our systems to poke and prod to your heart’s content.”

Logan nodded and began to lower his feet from the desk. Janus held up a hand.

“We’re not done yet.

“Whatever you may think you know about my personal history with Remus, you need to know that he is very dear to me.” Logan chuckled darkly, eyebrow raised, as he held up the picture sitting on Janus’ desk from his and Roman’s wedding. Janus sucked his teeth. “Remus… Remus is a better man than any of us." He looked down at his hands. "You need to be real with him, Sanders. Whichever ‘you’ is real, whether it’s the one he's falling for, or the one who breaks into people's offices to blackmail them, just…” Janus let his mask drop.

He leaned over the desk, getting as close to Logan as he dared. “Please just let him go if this is all a game to you. I know that look in his eyes. He's… He doesn't deserve to have his heart broken.” Janus’ eyes landed on the picture frame still in Logan’s gloved hands. “Not again.”

Janus straightened to his full height and crossed his arms in front of him. “Or, so help me, if you hurt that man… whatever the fuck we may have in these files that has you so concerned…” Janus shook his head and stared Logan in the eye. “I can guarantee that will be the least of your worries.”

Smirking, Logan raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“Well, yes. I thought that was obvious.”

---

Either there were no cameras or other surveillance devices in the main part of the restaurant or they were too well-hidden for Logan to detect. Given the fairly dim lighting—the large room was primarily illuminated by collections of small candles at each table and a few sconces dotting the walls at even intervals—a camera would likely need night vision enabled to detect very much of anything.

Logan looked around at the other patrons. Most were dressed in expensive-looking but not overly flashy dresses and suits. He shifted in his seat, taking in the room, and recognized a few faces dotted around the tables from the gossip pages of The Post. At one table, he spotted the Chair of the New York Stock Exchange… holding hands with a man much younger than her husband.

No, Logan surmised they wouldn't actually have cameras here. It appeared that discretion was served alongside the aperitifs.

Almost every table and seat at the bar was filled. The ones that were not bustled with activity as the bussing staff efficiently prepared them for their next guests. Logan was mildly surprised that he had been seated early and briefly feared he had miscalculated the schedule. He checked the text thread with 'Remus' and confirmed the time. He still had a few minutes before the man was due to arrive. It appeared that Logan had been seated as a courtesy. He narrowed his eyes, musing over this new bit of evidence. Could his date actually be the Remus King? Logan shook his head. It was much more likely that the man had simply led the restaurant to believe as such when he’d made the reservation.

Looking around his table one more time, he drank more of his water, leaving enough in the glass to demonstrate that he wasn't yet finished, and stood. He carefully left his napkin on his seat and pushed in his chair, then slipped away from the table. He walked in the direction of the alcove he presumed led to the restrooms before darting toward the bar at the last moment. He sat down at a barstool that afforded him a view of both the path from the host's podium and their table, and waited. Logan ordered a tonic water and the bartender returned quickly with his drink. He left a hefty tip to compensate for his inexpensive tee-totaling order and continued to watch the room.

Logan did not have long to wait. After a few brief minutes, Logan caught sight of the host leading a tall man with neon green streaks in his hair through the restaurant, directly toward their table. A passing waiter blocked his view of the man’s face and by the time his vantage point was clear, all he could see was the man's back. The man's shoulders slumped briefly when they approached the empty table and Logan watched the host murmur something close to his ear, gesturing toward the restrooms. The man with green hair nodded and slid into his seat.

The man fidgeted with his water glass and his jacket sleeves. His knee bounced violently enough to rattle the candles on the table until he forcibly pushed a palm down on his thigh and his heel pressed against the floor. He was quite obviously nervous, but Logan didn’t feel he could draw any decisive conclusions from nerves alone. Whether a man was trying to pull a con or was on a genuine first date, he would potentially exhibit anxiety if he thought his date couldn’t see him. And again, Logan pondered, if this was actually the real Remus King, what would a man of his stature have to be nervous about?

No. Even with the green hair, until he could see his face, Logan would not be convinced. The man could be a super fan, or, Logan reasoned, someone actually attempting to impersonate the author. After all, nearly all the images Logan had found were readily available online and the man could have simply dyed his hair to match. Since his date’s first experience with him had been with his overly trusting brother, perhaps he expected Logan to be an easy mark. Well, let’s not disabuse him of his idea that I'll be easy to fool. It is always better to be underestimated.

Suddenly, the large table near the bar erupted in a loud—and meandering—rendition of Happy Birthday. His date turned in his seat, eyes following the source of the song, a little smile playing at his mustachioed lips.

Logan’s glass slipped from his hand and landed on the bar with a loud thunk. Thankfully, the heavy glass was tempered and sturdy and did not shatter. Logan stared. Holy hell. It’s actually him.

Waving for the bartender, Logan croaked out, “A water, please.” He tipped the man again and drained the glass. He put it down with a shaking hand and pressed both palms flat against the surface of the bar. He counted out his breaths until he could no longer feel the thrumming of his pulse in his fingertips. He inhaled and exhaled slowly one last time, then slipped away from the bar and returned to their table.

---

Remus stood outside the restaurant and checked the time. Again. Okay, good. He’s not really early. It's just a couple of minutes before seven. Perfect timing. He blew out a hard breath and licked his lips, pressing a smile on his face as he pulled open the door.

“Hello, Mr. King! It’s good to see you, sir.” Remus felt his shoulders relax slightly at the sight of Tom’s friendly-as-usual smile. The coat check clerk took his long green coat and he whispered a thanks along with her tip. Tom gestured broadly toward the dining room as though he was welcoming Remus into his own home. “Mr. Sanders arrived just a few minutes ago.”

Okay, I got at least one thing right tonight. The staff at Pio’s always make their patrons feel welcome.

From the outside, Pio’s looked like any other dinner date spot on the gentrified edge of Hell’s Kitchen. Despite it’s cookie-cutter appearance, the staff were always exceptionally kind and generous with their time and attention. Remus wasn’t sure how they managed it, but they always remembered their patrons’ names and did all they could to make them feel comfortable. And, Remus had to admit, as nervous as he felt, he needed all the help he could get.

Tom led him to his favorite table, far enough from the noisy action in the center of the dining room that they would be able to speak without raising their voices. They were still close enough, though, that they could people watch during any uncomfortable lulls in the conversation.

His heart sank when he saw their table was empty. Tom was quick to offer assurances. “I’m certain he only stepped away for a moment, Mr. King. Why don’t you have a seat? I can have Grace bring you something from the bar, if you'd like.”

“No, but, thank you.” Remus shook his head, shaking the host’s hand and slipping him a small tip. “Just some water would be nice.”

“Like minds.” Tom smiled gently and tilted his head toward the half-filled water glass already on the table. He’d left his napkin on his chair before he'd left. Remus bit his lip, wrestling the hope bubbling in his chest. Perhaps he really is coming right back?

“Thanks, Tom.”

Remus sat down and busied his hands with his own napkin, then he stared at the candlelight bouncing around the table. His eyes kept drifting toward the empty chair in front of him and he tried to imagine his date—Logan, he corrected himself—sitting across from him, picturing his somber face illuminated by the candles. He’d look like a Carvaggio—Remus squeezed his eyes shut. Focus. He was so lost in thought he failed to acknowledge when a waiter filled his water glass, looking up only after the server had left to attend to another table. Fuck. Rude. Remus pledged to make it up to him with a better than usual tip.

He took a sip of his water and, after he set down the glass, noticed his knee was shaking the entire table. He pushed down, gripping his leg tightly and forcing his heel to the floor. He’ll be right back. He’ll be right back, he promised himself.

But what if he isn’t? Or what if he already did come back and saw what a mess you are and nope’d right back out?

Just then, the large center table broke out into a joyous rendition of Happy Birthday. He turned in his seat, gaze following the voices and, seeing how the birthday girl blushed behind her partner's shoulder, a brilliant smile turning up her lips lightened his heart. There's still love out there.

Remus watched until she blew out her candles and kissed her partner. He felt a surge of second-hand optimism as he straightened in his seat, facing the empty chair in front of him. This is a nice place for a birthday. I wonder when his is. I could take him here… I’ll see if he likes this restaurant and then surprise him. I bet if I talked to Tom he'd help arrange for a cake…

He dragged his hand down his face. Fuck, you’re planning a future date when he ditched you before you even met. What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck makes you think this guy will be any different than all the rest? What the fuck makes you think you deserve—

A low voice from the other side of the table pulled Remus from his thoughts. “Good evening. Are you Remus?” He looked up and stopped breathing.

Standing before him was the man from the app. Instead of the more casual button down shirts he’d worn in the photos, tonight he wore a slim-fitting, three-piece suit in a soft indigo with a matching tie and a silken black shirt underneath. But it was undeniably him. The same dark hair swept to the side, just grazing his eyebrows. The same thick hipster-but-somehow-still-adorable Warby Parker frames. The same cupid’s bow smile. His smile.

Oh my god the camera didn’t do him justice.

What the camera didn't reveal was the brilliance in his clear, dark blue eyes, the right eye just a shade darker than the left. Nor did it show the tiny flecks of teal scattered around his pupils and the long, thick lashes that nearly brushed against his lenses. And the camera certainly couldn’t capture the deep resonance of his voice, a near-musical timbre that made the little hairs on the back of Remus’ neck stand at attention.

Finally, Remus’ burning lungs reminded him to exhale. His chest released and he breathed out “Hi, there.”

Logan’s smile grew. Clearing his throat and nearly toppling his chair as he jumped up from his seat, Remus stood, hand outstretched. He couldn’t quite decide if he should shake his hand or adjust his own jacket or pull out Logan’s chair and for a moment began all three. He reached toward him, offering his hand to the man to shake while simultaneously starting to walk around the table to pull out his chair, smoothing down the front of his blazer and running a hand through the his perpetually tousled hair.

Logan reached out, gripping his hand with a restrained strength that made Remus’ throat run dry. “I am Logan Sanders. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Remus King,” he cleared his throat. “Er, Remus. I, um,” he chuckled, his laugh pitched just slightly too high. “I was a little afraid you recognized me and left.” He clamped his lips shut, feeling a flush travel up his neck. Speak less, smile more. What the actual fuck are you doing, man?

Remus shook his head. Of all the stuck up, narcissistic—

Logan interrupted his spiral when he placed Remus' latest book on the table, face down to show the author’s picture on the back cover. His picture. The book had clearly been read at least once, with several dog-eared pages and a small tear on the cover repaired with clear tape.

“Because of this?” Logan asked, still smiling.

Remus nodded, speechless.

“I was actually convinced you were someone else using a pseudonym on the app. I feared you might have been trying to impersonate, well, yourself. I thought the best I could hope for was that you might be a fellow… fan of your work.”

Feeling a flush rise on his face, Remus looked down at his hands. He’d met fans before and it hadn't felt like this. “No, I’m just… me…”

Logan chuckled, “My brother said you were funny.”

Remus’ breath caught in his throat when he finally looked up and met the man’s eyes. Logan pulled out his chair and tilted his head toward Remus’. “Perhaps we should sit?”

Nodding, Remus sat down again. The two sat in silence for a few moments before Logan spoke again. “This is a nice restaurant. I’ve never been here before.”

“I live just a few blocks south. I like it here. It’s…” Remus' voice trailed off as he stared across the table, watching the candlelight dance over Logan’s features. His eyeglasses glinted and his whole face seemed to glow as the shadows and light worked together to caress his cheekbones, his jaw, his lips. Carvaggio…

“Carvaggio?” Logan titled his head, still smiling, but with a slightly furrowed brow. Remus’ throat tightened as he realized he’d said that last bit out loud. He opened his mouth, grasping for an explanation when Logan continued. “Oh, Carvaggio was one of your characters in The Tragedy of Uomo Rotto, wasn't he?”

Remus blinked, recalling that, yes, in fact he had named each of the characters in that story after artists from the Counter Reformation. He chuckled, “If it ain’t Barouque…”

Logan laughed, a low musical sound that drew Remus closer. “There were so many puns hidden in that story. I almost convinced my brother to read it. He, well, couldn’t get past the first page, though.”

Sitting back in his chair, Remus nodded as the rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, the, ah, opening murder is rather…” Remus searched for a word more suitable to dinner conversation than grisly.

“The exposition was wonderfully detailed.” Logan rested his forearms on the edge of the table and leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “The way you incorporated how the killer used the artist's tools for each assassination so that there would be no suspicion when they showed evidence of turpentine and the trace chemicals?” Logan’s eyes sparkled with the dance of the candle’s flames. “It was inspired. And the prose…” Logan’s face flushed and he took a sip of his water. “You painted an incredible picture.”

Remus grinned, “Nice pun there yourself…”

Logan’s eyes flew open and he covered a laugh behind his hand, a bright pink blush peeking out. “Don’t tell my brother! He’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Reaching across the table with a grin, Remus gently pulled Logan’s hand away from his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “Your secrets are safe with me.”

Logan’s eyes flicked over to the waiter who’d been hovering a respectable distance from their table. He murmured to Remus, “I think we should at least look at the menu… they appear anxious to take our order.”

Peering over his shoulder, Remus winked at the server and opened his menu. “I think you’re probably right.”

---

Logan couldn’t tear his eyes away from Remus as they’d ordered. After he quickly accepted the first thing their server recommended, Logan simply watched as Remus’ awkwardness fell away as he called the server by name and ordered with an easy, gracious confidence. He was so caught up by the change in Remus’ demeanor that he didn’t completely register when he’d finished ordering and the server had left their table. It wasn’t until Remus met his eyes again, a light blush blooming on his cheeks, that Logan managed to look away and sip at his water.

“So, Mr. King,” Logan pushed a braver-than-he-felt expression onto his face. “They like you here.”

“Oh, no, they have no idea who I am.” Remus shook his head and looked down at his napkin, running his thumbnails under the seams at the edges. “I just come here a lot with my editor and they know the name on my credit card.”

He hummed, unconvinced. “Well you must treat the staff decently for them to appear to like you so much.” Logan cleared his throat. “So… what are you working on now?”

“Well… I've just started a story set in the same universe as Gemini,” Logan’s eyes lit up and he leaned forward in his seat.

“Oh, I loved Gemini!” Logan quickly lowered his voice, wincing slightly and looking around at a few patrons’ disapproving expressions at the volume of his outburst. He felt a fan-boy grin spreading on his face but was powerless to stop it. “The technical detail was astounding. You must have spent half the production time just on research!”

The loss of his dignity was worth the proud smile that spread across Remus’ face. His shoulders softened and his eyes danced as he leaned toward Logan, mirroring his posture. “You really liked it? I was afraid people just bought it because the cover art was so interesting and…”

Logan stopped his self-deprecation by reaching across the table and placing his hand over Remus’. “I loved that book.” Remus’ hand was warm under his and he gave it a gentle squeeze. Remus turned his palm up, wrapping his long fingers around Logan’s hand, and smiled. “What can you tell me about your new book?”

“Well, I’m following some of the side characters from Gemini, including the one who helped the killer escape. And so…”

---

The night progressed with the two men barely aware of the restaurant around them. They ate, and talked, and laughed—sometimes to the mild annoyance of those seated closest to them. At some point in the evening, the server discretely brought the check and Remus signed for it along with a tip worth three times the total bill. Gradually, the other patrons began to leave and their tables were not filled with new parties.

Finally, the host approached their table. He smiled and bowed his head slightly. “Mr King, Mr. Sanders, I apologize for the intrusion, but I am afraid we need to close up.” Remus and Logan looked up and around the dining room, shocked to see that they were the last people seated, and that someone had even begun to vacuum the area closest to the bar.

“I’m sorry, Tom! We—” Remus looked across the table at Logan and blushed.

“You were having a pleasant evening that I hope I have not too badly interrupted,” Tom smiled at the pair.

Remus pulled out his wallet, folding a few bills and passing them to Tom. “Please, I don’t think what I signed for covered the time we’ve spent here.” When Tom met his eyes but wouldn’t reach for the tip, Remus pressed forward. “Please, Tom, I insist.”

“Thank you, Mr. King. The staff appreciates it.”

Tom walked them to the front and fetched their coats. “What do I owe for dinner?” Logan asked as he pulled on his heavy overcoat.

“Nope, I took care of it.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “Well, I feel I must do something—”

Remus met his eyes with a mischievous grin. “You could buy me a coffee…”

“That hardly seems like an even exchange… But I’d like that.”

The biting night wind hit them as soon as Remus and Logan stepped out of the cozy warmth of the restaurant. They drew closer to each other and Logan sucked in a sharp breath as he hurriedly finished fastening his coat and adjusting his scarf. His jaw was set and his eyes darted up and down the street as though he was looking for something. Finally he seemed to find what he was searching for and his expression marginally relaxed.

Relieved, Remus grinned at him as he rubbed his bare hands together to warm them. “Oh, c’mon spring! It shouldn't still be this cold.” He buried his hands deep in the pockets of his old green overcoat and held out his elbow toward Logan in invitation.

Returning his smile, Logan looped his arm through Remus’ and tucked his hand into his own pocket. He shivered slightly and hunched forward as a sharp gust of wind found a gap in his scarf. “Yes, please remind me of this weather when I complain about the humidity this summer.” Apparently realizing the implications of his words only after they escaped his lips, Logan’s eyes flew open and he began to stammer. “I mean to say—That is, not to presume that we will—I—”

The sudden warmth spreading through his chest girding him against the cold, Remus leaned in and murmured close to Logan's ear, “Gladly.” Gesturing down Tenth Avenue, Remus added, “I know a few coffee shops this way. With any luck we’ll find one that’s open.”

They walked quietly through the cold night, the wind a little too harsh to allow for easy conversation. They pressed close together to shield each other from the icy wind barrelling down the steel canyons of Tenth Avenue, their steps quickly finding a shared rhythm. Despite the cold night, Remus felt he could walk like this forever and wasn’t too disappointed to see that the first two shops they passed were closed. Remus shrugged, “If you don’t mind the walk, there are a few more a little further south.” He pulled out his phone, “Or we could get a Lyft…?”

Logan smiled—Remus thought that smile could warm him for days—“I do not mind the walk at all. Your company is… quite enjoyable.”

As they walked further downtown, the gentrified shops began to give way to smaller, steel-gated bodegas and old brick-faced apartment buildings. Logan’s eyes moved constantly, scanning the streets around them. Eventually, Remus noticed that Logan was positioning himself on the building-side of the sidewalk, keeping his body between the alleys—and whatever danger may lurk there—and him. Remus was about to comment on it when they neared a homeless person sitting next to a heating vent and Logan tugged gently at Remus’ elbow, stopping them. “Just one moment, please.”

Logan released Remus’ arm and opened his wallet. He took out a few bills, folding them to hide their denomination, but Remus thought they looked like twenties. Logan approached the man on the street and crouched down to his eye level, maintaining a bit of space between them.

“Sir, may I?” he asked, holding out the bills and meeting the man’s eyes. The man squinted at Logan and looked around them. He stared briefly at Remus standing a few feet away, then quickly accepted the money. Logan bowed his head and smiled at him. “Goodnight, Sir,” he said as the man nodded at him and quickly palmed the money.

“Thank you,” Logan murmured to Remus after he returned and slipped his arm back into place. They continued their walk in silence as Remus tried to think of how to ask about that exchange. He’d finally started to formulate a question when they approached someone else and Logan quietly repeated the pattern, including asking permission to give her money.

Remus found his voice. "Are you always this altruistic?" he asked with a little laugh.

Logan shook his head, looking down at the sidewalk as he hooked his arm around Remus'. "I… I wouldn't ascribe it to altruism. It's more…" he took a breath, then slowly exhaled. "If I have money in my wallet and I see someone who could use it and I don't share…" He shook his head again, eyebrows knit together. "I won't be able to stop thinking about them and wondering what would have happened if I had tried to help." Logan frowned. "It's not generosity. It's a compulsion."

They crossed the street and Remus hummed, watching him out of the corner of his eye. "There are worse things you could feel compelled to do." Logan's frown seemed to deepen as he continued to scan their surroundings while they walked.

Finally, they reached the last neighborhood coffee shop Remus could think of, only to find it was closed, as well. Remus checked the time again and whistled. “It is after 1. Hm.” Logan nodded, then spotted someone huddled under a thin blanket a few doors down. He squeezed Remus’ arm, then approached the man.

“Sir, may I?” he asked. The man's eyes glazed past Logan’s. Logan’s brow furrowed and Remus stepped a little closer. His breath hitched when he saw the man’s lips were nearly grey. Logan put the money away. “Sir, are you okay?" He spoke a little louder. "Can you hear me?”

Remus crouched down next to Logan, feeling his own pulse race at the sharp pitch of concern in Logan’s voice. “Hey, is he all right?”

Logan peered closely in his eyes then shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He moved closer to the man. “Sir, may I touch you?” He gave no response. Frowning, Logan removed his glove and checked the man’s pulse at his neck. After a minute, he shook his head again. “His pulse is erratic.” He pulled out his phone, “I’m going to call an ambulance. I'm sorry…I—”

Remus shook his head, “What are you sorry for?”

“Will you take a rain check for that coffee?” Logan gave Remus a little half smile then looked up at a nearby intersection to read the cross streets. “Are you far from home?”

He scoffed, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait with you.”

“That is very kind but quite unnecessary.” Logan started to dial 911 and held the phone to his ear as he waited for the call to connect. “I’m not going to make you wait with me.”

Remus smiled. “You’re not making me do anything.” Still crouching, he bumped his knee against Logan’s. “I’m not in the habit of leaving my dates standing in an alley in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen.”

“I assure you, I will be fine.” Logan stood, frowning a bit at his phone when a recording prompted him to start pressing keys.

“I know you’ll be fine.” Remus stood, as well. “And I’m staying with you.”

Remus couldn’t read Logan’s expression as he stared back at him but he couldn’t hide his own smile when the shorter man nodded just before a dispatcher finally answered the call.

While Logan answered the dispatcher’s questions, Remus crouched down again and tried to rouse the man enough to speak. “No he’s not dangerous. He’s barely alive.” Logan grit his teeth and rolled his eyes. “The man is living unsheltered in”—he looked at his phone screen, dragging down to see his weather app icon—”25 degree weather and requires medical assistance.”

Remus watched Logan’s suddenly fiery demeanor with a small smile tempered only by the serious state of the man sitting on the sidewalk before them. He shook the man’s foot a bit and got him to make eye contact. “There you are! C’mon and stay awake for us…” Remus shook his foot again and the man’s eyes focused briefly. “Hey, man, my name is Remus and your new best friend over there is Logan. What’s yours?”

The man blinked a few times and his eyes wandered a bit before he finally whispered, “Call me… Flint.”

“Hey, Flint! It’s nice to meet you.” Remus looked back and saw that Logan was watching their exchange. He nodded encouragingly to Remus and gestured for him to continue as Logan walked toward the corner and the sound of approaching sirens. “Hey, we’ve got an ambulance coming to take you somewhere warm where they can help you feel better, okay?” He shook the man’s foot again as his eyes drifted.

“C’mon, Flint, can you keep your eyes open for me?” Flint blinked slowly a few times but his eyes kept going back to meet Remus’. “That’s it, Flint, thank you.” Remus looked back over his shoulder and saw Logan rushing toward them, followed by two paramedics carrying a large bag and a rescue board.

“The patient is presenting with hypotension and severe disorientation. Without a thermometer, I can only presume by his pallor and demeanor that he is hypothermic.”

Remus was startled to hear the medical jargon suddenly pouring effortlessly from Logan's mouth. He watched, slightly stunned, as his date began directing the paramedics.

“Sir, there really isn’t anything to be done here. This man is uninjured. He appears fatigued, probably hung over, and just needs to sleep it—”

“No.” Logan pulled a small notepad and pen from an inner coat pocket and began jotting down the paramedics’ names and ID numbers. “No, that is unacceptable. Perhaps that’s just the way the FDNY runs its EMS units, but that would not fly at the OEMS across the Hudson. Who’s your unit head?” Logan stared at the pair, eyebrow raised and pen poised.

The paramedics exchanged a quick glance, “Um, Pete Glazer, but, um, you’re right.” The taller paramedic nodded to the shorter. “We should probably take him in to Bellevue just to be safe.” They began to lay Flint out onto the rescue board as Logan narrated for him what they were doing and why. Flint seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness but he had a brief moment of lucidity when Remus saw him meet Logan’s eyes and nod. While the paramedics and Logan were busy with Flint, Remus focused on gathering together Flint’s blanket and the small bag he’d hand hidden under his leg.

“Careful for sharps,” the shorter paramedic warned. “I wouldn’t touch his stuff.” Logan frowned at him but remained silent as he passed his thick leather gloves to Remus. He looked pointedly at Remus’ bare hands until he put them on.

Once Flint was strapped to the board and they began to carry him toward the back of the ambulance, Logan said firmly. “Very good. I will ride along with you.”

Remus strode forward, “Not alone.” He held up Flint’s bag. “I’ve got my ticket to ride right here.”

It was too dark to tell for certain, but Remus thought he caught a glint of a smile on Logan’s face before he turned to the taller paramedic, stating simply. “He’s coming with us, as well.”

---

When the ambulance arrived at Bellevue Hospital, the paramedics first attempted to leave Flint on a gurney in the hallway. Logan approached the intake desk and unbuttoned his overcoat, revealing his snazzy date attire. Remus watched from over the top of a newspaper from his seat in the waiting room. He caught how Logan’s gaze swept over the front desk, eyeing the three different nurses staffing the station. He approached the one in the middle. “Good evening, Nurse”—his eyes flicked down to her name tag—”Saker. I brought in the patient from EMS #926.” Remus shook his head slightly from behind the paper, wondering if that was the real number or if he’d just made it up on the spot.

Nurse Saker shuffled through some papers at the desk and replied in a tired voice, “Yes, the vagrant with a suspected OD?”

There was a beat when the hair on the back of Remus’ neck stood up as he watched Logan unlock his knees and adjust his stance. He seemed to thrum with energy, but his face remained in the same neutral expression. “Patient’s name is Flint. He presented as hypotensive and moderately tachycardic on the scene. I believe he is in a gurney in the hallway now. He should be in a monitored bed.” He leaned over the counter and spoke so softly that Remus missed most of what he said. “… a report of… word got out, would look bad for….”

What Remus couldn’t miss, though, was the way Nurse Saker's eyes widened.

“Do you see where I’m coming from, Nurse Saker?” Logan asked in an even tone.

“Yes, Doctor, I do. We will admit the patient—”

“Flint.” Logan smiled mildly. “The patient’s name is Flint.”

“We will admit Flint to a monitored bed as quickly as possible.”

“Very good. Thank you, Nurse Saker.” Logan turned and began to walk toward the waiting room. He called back as he approached the bank of seats where Remus still held the paper. “We will be here until you are able to find a space for him.”

Whether it was the late hour or the frigid temperatures that kept people away, Remus couldn’t tell, but they sat in a surprisingly vacant waiting room. He gently bumped his shoulder against Logan’s as the shorter man sank into the seat next to him. He tilted his chin toward the admissions desk. “That was, um… some pretty impressive role play back there.”

Logan’s cheeks flushed and he looked away, biting his lip. “I….” He sighed heavily and stared at the floor. “It helps to let people make assumptions.” He glanced quickly at Remus, eyebrows knit together. “I… I wouldn’t be duplicitous without a compelling need. Those paramedics would have left him on the street to die if I hadn’t—”

Remus reached for Logan’s hand. “No, I really meant you impressed me.” Logan looked up, lips pressed tightly together. Remus smiled as he gave his hand a little squeeze. “You did everything humanly possible to save that man’s life tonight.” He gave a little shrug. “So… maybe it was more Deadpool than Superman… it was pretty heroic all the same.”

Logan scoffed but his forehead finally smoothed and Remus’ smile grew broader. “I believe your assessment is exaggerative but I appreciate the sentiment.” They sat together in silence for a few minutes. Logan made no attempt to remove his hand from Remus’ gentle grip and, instead, interlaced their fingers.

Finally, Logan looked pointedly at the clock on the wall above the doors to the emergency ward. “I believe I have kept you out far beyond what could be considered reasonable for a first date.”

Remus laughed quietly. “It’s Sunday now and we had several changes in venue. I think this counts as our second date.”

Chuckling, Logan leaned back in his seat and rested his head against Remus’ shoulder. For a moment, all Remus could hear was the pounding of his own heart. He swallowed dryly and closed his eyes, the soft weight of Logan’s head against his shoulder grounding him. Gradually his racing heart slowed and he felt his breathing grow steadier.

Sitting in the dingy ER waiting room at Bellevue Hospital, holding hands with a man he’d met less than eight hours ago, Remus felt more relaxed than he had in what must have been years. A comforting weight dragged his eyelids shut but he pledged to open them on the next breath. Okay, maybe the next breath… Yeah, definitely the next….

---

Logan sat very still, listening to the slow easing of Remus’ breaths, feeling his heartbeat slow where his finger rested on a pulse point in his hand. He didn’t understand how this man could watch him lie and connive and threaten his way through their evening and then simply fall asleep next to him. He doesn’t know what you really are. If he knew… if anyone knew….

He shook his head and tightened his jaw. No. And he won’t ever know.

Carefully, Logan placed his other hand on top of Remus’, cradling the writer's hand between both of his while he listened to his soft, steady breathing.

After a couple of hours, Nurse Saker approached Logan in the waiting room. “We’ve admitted your patie—Flint.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “And his vitals?”

Smirking slightly, Nurse Saker read off the Post-it note in her hand. “His pulse-ox is up to 97%, BP is 128 over 64, and body temperature is 97.5. We have him on warm saline and constant monitoring.” She smiled thinly. “Why don’t you get some rest, Doctor, and come by tomorrow after 10?”

Logan would bet his portfolio that Nurse Saker’s shift ended before 10 AM.

“Thank you, Nurse. Perhaps some rest would do us good.” She pivoted on her heel and started to walk away before Logan finished his sentence. He narrowed his eyes. That might have offended me, if I were actually the doctor you think I am.

Turning toward the sleeping man next to him, Logan gently stroked his hand and murmured, “Remus? Remus, wake up.”

Squeezing his eyes tightly and inhaling sharply, Remus arched his back in a spine-cracking stretch, then opened his eyes. He squinted against the bright fluorescent lighting, blinking at Logan. Awareness burst across his face. “Oh, I fell asleep.” He shook his head, “I don’t do that,” he mumbled, eyes still slightly unfocused.

Logan chuckled, “You don’t sleep?”

“No, no, I mean… I… I have insomnia. I don’t sleep without… I have a routine.”

He rubbed Remus' hand softly. “The evening must have worn you out.” Logan stood, then reached for Remus’ other hand to help him up. “C’mon. Let’s go find a Lyft and get you home.”

They stood just outside the Emergency Room entrance and Logan opened the ride share app to select a car. The cold air seemed to help Remus regain his alertness. He furrowed his brow, looking carefully at Logan. “What about you? I at least had a nap.”

Logan smiled as he fastened his coat and accepted his gloves from Remus. “I’m fine. I live near Gravesend. I just need to catch the M train.”

Remus paused, peering closely at Logan’s pale face and watching how he struggled with the buttons on his coat. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I—I live a lot closer than Brooklyn. Can… I bring you to my place? Not to… you know”—he shimmied his shoulders with a little grin—”Just… Look, I’ve even got a guest room. It’s nice and comfy. You wouldn't even have to take the couch.”

A slow smile spread across Logan’s face as he slipped his phone into his pocket and stepped closer to Remus. He looked up into his eyes. “Have I done anything that would lead you to believe that I wouldn’t welcome sharing a bed with you? Either to sleep or…” Logan inched closer until they were nearly touching. “Not to sleep?”

“I—I’m um,” Remus’ voice cracked. “You know, I’m suddenly not very tired.”

Logan’s eyes looked dark in the pre-dawn light. “Neither am I.”

---

“I knew we’d find a place with coffee eventually,” Remus joked, hands shaking slightly as he scooped coffee grounds into the filter. It had been a quick Lyft ride back to Remus’ apartment but the only thing that had prevented them from tackling each other in the back seat of the rideshare had been the driver’s nervous eyes watching them in the rear view mirror.

There had been no watchful eyes in the lobby, on the staircase, or in the hallway just outside Remus’ door. Or now, in Remus’ kitchen.

The moment Remus clicked down the lid to the reservoir on the coffee maker and flicked the switch, Logan pressed his chest against his back as he slipped off Remus’ sport coat and started to untuck his shirt. Logan hissed as his chilled fingers made contact with Remus' hot skin. “Ah!” Remus exclaimed. “Cold hands, cold hands, cold hands…” Remus turned in Logan’s arms, drawing him into a slow kiss.

Logan’s low laugh came out like a growl, “Would you prefer I warmed them under water, or…?” He shifted his hands on Remus' body.

Remus’ eyes snapped open and he shook his head, gasping softly, “No, no, I’m good…”

Logan smiled and leaned in to press a line of kisses along Remus’ jaw. “Good….”

The slowly brewing coffee forgotten, they shed their clothes as they stumbled down the hall, Remus walking backwards to lead them to his bedroom. Remus fumbled with Logan’s tie as the shorter man suddenly froze and broke away from their hungry kiss. “Oh my god… is that—”

Fuck, no! No, no, no, no… I covered the board before I left for the restaurant. Remus spun around, and his heart sank to his feet. Somehow, the large sheet he had draped over his storyboard had slipped while he was out, revealing a series of hand-drawn crime scene sketches from his next book idea. Logan stood frozen before the board, mouth fallen open, wide eyes taking in the red string connecting each of Remus’ graphic sketches to a small blood-splattered token pinned to the board.

Fuck, no… Not again… Remus’ shoulders sank and he sat on the edge of the bed, head hanging down. His throat tightened as he tried to explain. “It’s not—I swear it’s not what it looks like. It’s—”

“It’s incredible!” Logan turned to face him and tugged at his hands, bringing Remus closer to the board. “Is this for your new story?”

Remus nodded mutely. Logan gave his attention back to the board. “May I?” He gestured to the corner of the sheet still obscuring half of it.

“Uh…yeah… Yes, of—of course.” Remus helped Logan completely remove the sheet, taking care not to let it snag on any of the items pinned to the surface. Logan stood silently, taking in the full board.

Like his others for previous books, this storyboard stretched the full width of Remus' desk, consuming most of the wall space next to the window. Remus had recently upgraded to a heavy, reusable board covered in green-corduroy. It was vast improvement over the old white foam boards that used start to disintegrate near the end of his story writing process. The left-hand edge of this board held a dense set of hand-drawn sketches and story cards, depicting both mocked crime scenes and line drawings of broken antique dolls. As the cards and drawings and red plotlines spread across the board toward the right-hand edge, the sketches and notes cards thinned. The story was still in its early stages, borrowing most of the character and plot details from the outcome of the previous book set in this universe.

Logan turned back to Remus, eyes dancing. “What can you tell me about it? I—I realize you might need to keep some things secret, spoilers and all, but can you tell me anything?”

“You—you really want to know?”

“Yes, of course! This is amazing, Remus! The technique is reminiscent of the new edition of The House of Leaves, but…” He let out a happy sigh as he slipped his arm around Remus’ waist. “But this just feels like your stories.” He stepped closer, bringing Remus with him. “What about this?” Logan asked, pointing to a tiny box of matches, one edge stained a dark rusty red.

“W-well… that’s from the protagonist’s first, well, assassination,” Remus began slowly. Logan nodded enthusiastically, gaze bouncing between the board and Remus’s face. His enthusiasm became contagious and soon Remus felt an excited bubbling in his chest, his own smile growing. “The protagonist is searching for a set of dolls that have been programmed with the consciousness of the test subjects from Gemini.”

Arm tightening around Remus’ waist, Logan looked up at him with bright eyes. “Oh, I was hoping you would continue that storyline!”

“Really?” Logan nodded again, giving Remus all of his attention. “Wow, um, well, the protagonist has a list of 8 dolls, one for each of the subjects. She was working the crime scene in the last chapter in Gemini and when she came across Dr. Joyce’s lab journal, she stole it.” Remus pointed to the upper left corner of the story board where there were a few sheets of gridded paper ripped from a notebook, covered edge to edge in scrawled words, equations, and sketches. “And so she studies the journal and figures out that Dr. Joyce had discovered how to capture the subjects' brainwaves before they died and to transfer them into, well, basically a hard drive.”

“And the hard drives are in the dolls?” Logan bit his lip, following the red string from item to item on the board.

He nodded. “I’m stuck on something with the story, though.” Remus crossed his arms and sighed. “If I can’t fix the plot hole I’ve dug, I may need to”—Remus waved his hands over the board—”convert this for some other idea.”

“What's the hole?”

He sighed again, pointing to the journal. “You remember Dominique from Gemini? The super strict, by-the-book, follow-the-rules lab tech?” Logan nodded, brow furrowed, then understanding washed over his face.

“Oh…” Logan nodded slowly.

Remus shrugged, “Right? Why would she tamper with evidence from a crime scene?” He shook his head. “But Dominique’s the only one from that story with both the inside knowledge of what was really happening and the skills to hunt down these dolls and, well… you know, take out the people keeping them.”

The pair stared at the board for several minutes. Logan suddenly turned to Remus. “What if she thought that someone else in the lab would have made sure the book was ‘lost’ if she had collected it properly?” Remus tilted his head, listening. “What if everything she saw in Gemini told her she couldn’t trust the ‘proper’ authorities to… be effectual?”

Remus tapped at his chin. “There is the Captain… I—I didn’t explicitly include this in the published story, but there are hints all over the place he’s as corrupt as they come. Oh… that could work!” Remus grabbed a pen from his desk, muttering under his breath and scribbling out ideas on cards and pinning them around the board. Logan stepped back a bit and watched.

After Remus had filled a dozen cards, he tucked the pen behind his ear and backed up, standing next to Logan as he perused the updated board. He dragged his hands through his hair and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Oh, yes! That’s it!” He grabbed Logan’s face with both hands and covered it with kisses. “It’s brilliant, thank you, thank you, thank you…” he cried between kisses.

Logan wrapped his arms around Remus’ shoulders, hands coming up to cradle the back of his neck. Remus melted in his arms as the shorter man pulled him down into a long kiss. When they both came up for air, Logan’s eyes were drawn to the sunlight beginning to peek through the open blinds.

“Oh, I apologize, I”—Remus interrupted him with another kiss, then began to gently mouth his neck—”I’ve kept you talking for… I don’t… The sun is up…” Logan’s voice faded into a low groan.

“Mm-hm,” Remus hummed, gripping Logan’s hips and leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his neck and his collarbone. “And it was fucking hot….”

Logan was breathless, “Oh, really?”

“Really,” Remus whispered against his mouth and pulled him toward the bed.

---

The tail of Logan’s tie on the floor caught his eye just as Remus heard a low voice coming from somewhere in the apartment. It was followed by a sharp cry, pained and surprised. Janus’ voice. Without a thought—and without a scrap of clothes—he flung open his bedroom door, letting it slam against the wall as he raced to the living room.

Just as Remus registered the sound of the door hitting the wall, Logan called out to Remus from the other end of the hallway, “Stay back and call the police! There's an intruder!”

He stood in the hall, staring. Logan was in his living room, wearing Remus’ rarely-used robe from the back of his bedroom door. He was leaning over Janus and had pinned his arm behind his back. Logan's other hand kept an iron grip his shoulder. He had a steel baton tucked under his arm, still strapped to his wrist. Janus grit his teeth, face turning bright red and dotted with perspiration.

"Jan? What are you doing in here? Don’t you knock?"

Janus spat back, struggling against Logan’s grip and wincing. “Don’t you answer your phone? Or your door?” He tried to shake Logan off of him and only succeeded in further twisting his arm. "Want to call off the pit bull?"

“Do you know this man, Remus?” Logan asked, ignoring Janus’ struggling.

“Yeah, yeah, let him go.” Logan released Janus and backed out of his reach in one quick movement. He stood between them, shielding Remus’ body with his own.

The three men stood quietly assessing each other for several breaths. Janus wore a scarf and overcoat, and his hat and a small portfolio lay on the floor in front of him from when Logan had jumped on him. He bent to retrieve them, eyes warily fixed on Logan until he caught sight of—

“Ah, you’re a…” Janus looked away and waved toward where the robe had fallen open, revealing more than a little of Logan’s body.

Logan glared at Janus, baton pointed down, but still ready. He shrugged. “I have nothing to be ashamed of—”

“Hmm, you got that right…” Remus joked, stepped closer as he wrapped his arms around Logan from behind, taking the opportunity to draw the edges of his robe closed in the process. He kept one arm around Logan's waist and rubbed his hand down the arm that held the baton, encouraging him to relax. Logan leaned back a bit into Remus’ embrace and closed the baton.

Still, he kept his eyes trained on Janus. ”I have nothing to be ashamed of because I’m not the one who broke into someone’s apartment while they were sleeping.”

“I didn’t ‘break in’ like some criminal.” Janus dangled his keys as he spoke. ”Look, I have a key. I used to live here.”

Sunlight from the large front windows glinted off a distinctive yellow two-headed snake emblazoned on his keychain. Logan froze, staring at the familiar icon.

Remus laughed and tightened the arm around Logan’s waist, pulling the shorter man’s attention away from his musings. “Well, Jannie, if that’s the rule we're going with… Logan, babe”—Remus leaned in and winked at him to play along—”How do you feel about making a little room in the bedroom, if you know what I mean?”

“Remus!” Janus’ voice shook.

Sighing, Remus asked again. “Why are you here, Jan?”

“Your brother asked me to drop off his sample sketches for your book,” he waved the portfolio. “Pick one and he’ll do it to spec for the cover.” Logan’s brow furrowed, eyes lingering on Janus’ wedding ring.

The mention of Roman seemed to have drained the last of Janus’ indignation at Logan’s treatment of him. He sighed, giving his eyes a half-roll to the heavens. “I'm sorry for just letting myself in.” He avoided Logan’s glare and addressed Remus. “I called your cell and you didn't answer… I assumed you were out.”

“Yeah, we were sleeping, Jan.”

Janus looked at his watch. "It's 3 o'clock in the afternoon. You never sleep this late."

"Evidently 'never' is hyperbolic," Logan growled, eyes fixed on Janus and maintaining a protective stance in front of Remus.

“Right.” The taller man rubbed at the back of his neck and stepped away from Logan to yank a throw blanket off the couch to wrap around his waist. "Ugh. This is awkward. Logan, this is Janus Woods. Janus, this is Logan Sanders.” Remus stared meaningfully at him. “And, yes, Janus used to live here,” Remus gestured to the door on the other side of the hallway leading to Janus’ old office Remus’ guest room.

Logan eyed Janus up and down. "Ah."

Janus smirked, "You've heard of me."

"Actually, no." Logan said mildly.

He slid closer to Remus but didn't touch him. He simply stood sufficiently close that Remus could reach for him if he needed. Janus eyed them closely as Remus took his hand. A small smile spread on Janus' face until his eyes landed on Logan's baton. He scowled.

Logan shifted the hand not holding Remus' and concealed the baton behind his leg.

"I truly thought you were out. I… I didn't intend to disturb your afternoon." Janus patted the portfolio on the counter and looked down at the floor. “Perhaps you could walk me to the door, Re?”

Remus narrowed his eyes but Logan squeezed his hand, smiling. He kissed his cheek, then turned toward the bedroom, speaking over his shoulder. "It was nice to meet you, Janus. Perhaps we can do this again when we're all properly dressed?"

Janus nodded, "Yes. Yes of course." Logan disappeared behind the bedroom door.

Janus leaned close to Remus and hissed in his ear. “He’s your match. You brought him home on your first date?”

Remus raised his eyebrow, "Glass houses much, Jan?"

He blushed. "I just mean… How much do you really know about this guy? He;s… He's got a fucking collapsible baton. Those things are illegal in the city." Remus smirked and flicked at the tiny illicit canister of mace on Janus' keychain. He rolled his eyes. "It's not the same. I…" He sighed. "I just want you to be safe, Re."

Remus smiled and felt his face warm. "Oh, Jan Jan, I am. Logan’s amazing. And seriously, look at the two of us. He's gotta be 5'8" after a good stretch. I'm the scariest thing in the room when we're together."

Janus pursed his lips, brow furrowed. He sucked in a deep breath, staring past Remus’ shoulder at the closed bedroom door. “He’s tougher than he looks, Re. He came out of nowhere and tackled me before I even knew he was there. So much for five years of Krav Maga.” Janus blew out a sharp breath. "Just… be careful… please. I don’t want you to get hurt."

"I won't. He’s one of the good guys, Jan. You shoulda seen him last night.” Janus scoffed and looked away and Remus elbowed him. “C’mon, you’ve gotta admit I’ve got pretty good taste in men.”

Janus just bit his lip, face pinched, as he searched Remus’ eyes. At last, he nodded and stepped aside to let Remus open the door. He slipped through as Remus stood ready to close the door behind him. “And, Jan?”

Janus turned around, eyebrows raised “Yes, Re?”

Feeling his cheeks flush again, Remus grinned. “Thanks. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I ever would have met this guy. He’s…” Remus leaned closer to his friend. “Jan, he saw my storyboard and he loved it. He kept asking me questions about it and he had ideas and it’s why we were up so late.” Janus smirked. “Okay, it was definitely not the only reason why. But…" He sighed with a broadening grin. "I think… I think this could be the start of something big.” Remus fought to keep his eyes away from Janus’ wedding ring, that cold reminder of the last time he thought a relationship was destined for greatness.

He cleared his throat. “I have you to thank for bringing us together, Jan.”

Janus pulled Remus’ head down and kissed his forehead. “I hope you’re right, Re. I just want you safe and happy.” He gently nudged Remus back inside his apartment. “Okay, get inside, you’re half-naked.” He let slip a small laugh when Remus responded with a hula dance. “Call me later, alright? If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow morning, I’m sending a search party.”

“I’ll call you when he leaves. Bye, Jan….”

The moment the door closed, Remus ripped off the throw he’d been wearing and raced down the short hall to his bedroom. He knocked twice then poked his head through as Logan stepped out from the bathroom wearing slacks and his shirt from last night, open in the front. “Are you decent?” He stepped all the way through the door, laughing, and leaped onto the bed. “‘Cause I’m not!”

Logan grinned and sat next to him. He closed his eyes as he carded his fingers through the green streaks in his hair, smiling as the soft waves tickled his palm. He let out a surprised squeak when Remus pulled him down for a kiss and rolled him onto his back. After a few minutes Logan broke away and tried to catch his breath.

“Remus, I… I must apologize.” Remus pulled back a bit and met Logan’s eyes, listening. “I was caught off guard and… instinct took over. When—” he exhaled sharply and set his jaw. “When I heard the door open, I… I feared Janus was an intruder.”

“Aw, don’t apologize.” Remus waggled his eyebrows and started to nip at Logan’s neck. He pulled his collar aside and mumbled against the newly exposed skin. “You were trying to protect me. That's twelve different kinds of sexy in my book.”

“I overreacted.” Logan’s throat tightened as he recalled the triumph he’d felt when he’d so quickly subdued the taller man. “I… I could have injured your friend.”

Remus rolled on to his side and chuckled. “That would teach him to not just waltz into my apartment like he still lives here!” Remus traced little lines up and down Logan’s arm, fingers dancing over the silken sleeve.

Cupping Remus’ cheek, Logan turned to face him completely. “He cares for you…" Remus raised an eyebrow suggestively and he huffed out a small laugh, quickly adding, "I don't mean like that. But he’s clearly concerned for your safety.” Logan bit his lip and looked away when Remus’ hand brushed against the line of scars on his arm. “He's not wrong that it's… rather risky to bring home a man you've only just met.”

“Hmm…” Remus hummed thoughtfully, a fire growing in his eyes. “And what about doing this”—he rolled on top of Logan, slotting their legs together—”With a man I've just met?"

Logan’s breath hitched, “Oh, yes, definitely, you are taking a big risk.”

“Mm-hm…” Remus pressed a line of kisses along Logan’s collarbone. “So I should keep doing it, then?”

“Yes…" Logan whispered, "Please do….”

---

“Look, Jan, I promised I’d call. But you’ve gotta give me a chance to, okay?” He winked at Logan.

Several hours had passed since Janus had dropped by unannounced and it appeared he’d grown impatient waiting for Remus to check in. “Or else next time I’m putting you on speakerphone and you can just listen in! Okay? Bye-bye…” Remus disconnected the call, flung his phone on his desk and laid back against Logan’s chest. Logan tucked the blanket over his chilled skin. “Sorry about that. I told him I’d call when you left to let him know you didn’t steal my kidneys and leave me in a tub of ice or some shit.”

“It’s good to have a friend who cares about you.”

He scoffed. “Yeah. He’s being a little overprotective right now.”

“Hm,” Logan hummed as he carded his fingers through Remus’ hair. “You seem very close. Were you two intimate?”

Remus tensed and he let out a choked sounding laugh. “You could say that,” his voice broke at the end.

Logan stuttered, “Oh… I—I apologize.” He stroked Remus’ cheek and kissed his head. “I did not wish to cause you distress. I… that was a very personal question.” Logan wrapped his arms tighter around him. “I overstepped. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, it’s okay.” He stroked Logan’s chest. “I think, given our current position, personal questions are, ah”—he waggled his eyebrows—”hardly improper.”

Logan shifted slightly, peering closely into his eyes. Remus felt an icy knot in his stomach start to thaw from the warmth in his gaze. He let out a slow breath. “Janus and I were together for over four years.” Logan nodded slowly.

“And it ended poorly?”

Remus squeezed his eyes shut but he couldn’t hide the vision from his mind. Janus sitting next to Roman on the couch. Janus reaching for Roman’s hand. Janus quietly murmuring, ‘Remus, there’s something we need to talk about.’

His throat constricted and he could barely whisper, “Very poorly.”

“Was marrying your brother the catalyst or the end result?”

Remus sat up, staring at Logan in the shadowed light cast by the desk lamp across the room. “How did—how did you know Jan was married to my brother? And how did you know that he and I used to be together?”

“You both said he used to live here.”

“We could've just been roommates.”

Logan shrugged lightly, eyebrow raised. “With benefits, perhaps. You were quite comfortable with him… and, well…” Logan smirked. “When he was here… He wasn’t watching your eyes…” He stroked Remus’ hip and pulled him closer for a kiss. “However it would be incredibly hypocritical of me to condemn him for that.”

Temporarily mollified, Remus kissed him back and then settled once more against his chest. He drew little circles through Logan’s chest hair with his fingertips. Suddenly he looked up again, shaking his head. “But wait… how did you know about everything else?”

“He was wearing a wedding ring. And…” Logan met his gaze as he gently brushed Remus’ hair from his eyes. “It provided an Occam’s Razor explanation for why your brother would ask him to deliver something to an ex-boyfriend rather than coming to see you himself. He feels more comfortable with Janus than with you.” Remus tilted his face away from Logan, feeling the sting of his observation.

Logan brushed the backs of his fingers against Remus’ cheek, then lifted his chin so their eyes would meet again. Logan’s eyes were soft and shining with concern. “Perhaps because he knows you feel more betrayed by his actions than by Janus’. That’s why you speak of Janus by name, but you've only referred to your brother as… ‘your brother.’ I do not believe I have heard you say his name once.”

“Lucky guess,” Remus joked, forcing a small laugh. Logan stroked his hair and leaned in to press kisses against the top of his head.

He whispered into his hair. “Were you and your brother not very close growing up?”

“We’re identical twins.”

Remus’ eyes filled with tears. He scoffed at himself and wiped them away with the heel of his hand, hiding his face.

“Oh, Remus.” Logan held him tighter, murmuring against his head. “That must have been very painful.”

“I can’t cry to my”—Remus caught himself before he said the word boyfriend—”To my date about an ex.”

“Yes, you can, Remus. I… I recognize we may have rushed into this in a—”

“Fit of wild, animalistic passion?” Remus tried to smile.

“Well, yes.” Logan was quiet, and Remus watched as he opened and closed his mouth a few times as though he couldn’t decide what to say. Finally he took a deep breath and lifted Remus’ chin, meeting his eyes. “I am not in the habit of engaging in intimate relations with… abandon. Not… not like this. There is… there is something about you that I…” He licked his lips, mouth moving without speaking. Finally he blurted out “I—I care for you… deeply.” He shook his head. “I know we have just met… I… I do not have a reasonable justification.”

“Maybe there isn’t one.” Remus smiled up at him. “Do we have to justify it? I feel it, too.” He let out a breathy laugh. “I told you more about my past tonight than I told my last three shrinks over a decade. I feel safe with you.” He took Logan’s hand in his own and traced the veins and scars on either side. “Your hands are so… strong. Hard. But you've been so gentle with me. And after seeing how you fought for Flint and everything you did last night…” Remus blew out a little breath. “I’ve gotten really good at finding the worst in people. I write about the worst in people.”

Remus kissed the roughened knuckles on Logan’s hands. “But you… You are a good man and I readily”—he kissed the back of Logan’s hand—“happily”—he kissed his fingers, pressing extra kisses to the bent fingers on his left hand when Logan tried to hide them—“and unreservedly put myself in your hands.”

“I—” Logan’s voice cracked, “I will strive to be worthy of the trust you put in me.” He closed his eyes as Remus first kissed him then laid his head back on chest, cradling Logan’s hand between his own, lips gently pressed against his crooked fingers. Logan wrapped his other arm around him, the warm weight giving him a calmness that Remus had been missing for a long, long time.

They laid together for several minutes before the doorbell rang.

“That’s probably our order.” Remus raised his head to crush his lips against Logan’s one more time, then rolled off the bed. He passed his desk where their phones were charging on his way to the heap of last night's clothes on the floor. “Do you need your phone? Any, uh”—he winked—”next of kin to call?”

Logan took a deep breath and slid out from the other side of the bed. He found his glasses on the nightstand and began hunting for his twice-discarded slacks. He shook his head. “I checked in with my brother when Janus was here.”

Remus laughed. “Janus left six hours ago. Here,” he passed Logan his phone. “Call him before he calls the cops on me.”

Logan shrugged and accepted the device. “I supposed that would not be entirely out of the universe of possibilities. My brother’s a detective at the Tenth Precinct up the street.”

Still laughing, Remus nudged Logan then raced to answer the door. “This is the same brother from the app?” Logan shrugged and nodded. “Fuck,” he called over his shoulder. “Dial faster!”

---

A few hours later, Logan eased his key into the lock at his and Patton's apartment, turning it slowly while he held the rest of his keys with his other hand to muffle their usual jangle. After dinner and more than a few stolen kisses as they’d cleaned up, he’d finally steeled himself to leave the comforting bubble of Remus’ apartment.

“At least let me get you a Lyft. Please don’t take the subway home at 2 AM,” Remus had murmured against Logan’s neck as he’d struggled to button his hopelessly wrinkled shirt.

Logan closed his eyes, letting himself be lost to the sensation for just a moment more before firmly pushing himself back from Remus’ embrace. “If you continue, I will never want to leave.”

Waggling his eyebrows, Remus whined as he ran his hands over Logan's hips and down his thighs. “Aw, you figured out the plot twist in the first chapter!”

“It is… quite tempting to stay longer but I have business I must attend to in the morning. I will, however, follow your wise advice to take a Lyft home.” He raised an eyebrow at his phone, scrolling through the options. “It is undoubtedly faster than the M train at this hour.”

While they’d waited in the lobby for the rideshare, watching the car make a wrong turn on the little tracking map, Remus had grown very quiet. He gnawed at his lip until Logan kissed him and brushed his thumb over his lower lip, drawing it out from between his teeth. Remus stared down into eyes. “I… I’d like to see you again. I know we’re supposed to play it cool and be all ‘I’ll call ya, babe,’ but…”

Logan slipped his phone into his coat pocket and reached up to cup Remus’ face in his hands. “I think we have burned that rule book.” Remus grinned back at him, slipping his hands underneath Logan’s coat and around his waist. Logan shivered when Remus' warm hands splayed at the small of his back. Remus grinned and leaned in to kiss him. After a moment, Logan broke away, lips tingling. “Are you available Wednesday evening?”

He frowned, tapping at his chin. “Hm, I’d have to check my calendar”—Remus cracked and started to laugh—”I might have a hair appointment…”

Logan was fighting his own grin and shaking his head when his phone chimed. “The car’s here.” He pulled Remus down for one more kiss. “Goodnight, Remus, I…” Logan had forced his mouth shut, the heat of the moment and more than a touch of sleep deprivation had been making it difficult to not simply give voice to everything percolating through his mind and his heart. Logan had been finding it increasingly difficult to maintain any sort of filter around this incredible man.

Remus had just nodded and stroked Logan’s cheek as he’d opened the door. “I can’t wait.”

After turning the locks behind him and hanging his keys on their hook, Logan leaned back against the cool surface of the door. He touched his cheek and imagined that he could still feel Remus’ last gentle caress, that he could still feel the prickly tickle of his mustache against his skin. He closed his eyes, sensing the start of the soft, floating warmth that precedes the last stage before drifting off to sleep.

His eyes shot open at the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. “Lo? Is that you?” Patton’s rough voice called from the kitchen. The kitchen light was on, the warm glow spilling out into the hallway. How did I not notice that the light was on?

“Um,” Logan cleared his throat and straightened his glasses, “Yes, Pat, it’s me.” He walked into the kitchen and froze. Patton sat at the table, a steaming mug of hot chocolate gripped tightly in his hands. His hair stuck out at odd angles on either side of his head as though he’d just been tugging at it. His pajama shirt was buttoned wrong and he had deep purple shadows under his eyes.

“Pat? What’s wrong?”

Patton didn’t answer and instead busied himself at the stove, taking down a mug and pouring hot chocolate into it. He silently slid the mug across the table and nodded at Logan’s usual chair. Logan slipped off his overcoat and sat down, brow furrowed. His eyes were fixed on his older brother.

“Do you remember…” Patton sighed and took another sip of his cocoa. “Do you remember that case I told you about a couple weeks ago?”

Logan nodded, resisting the urge to clarify that it would be precisely two weeks from tomorrow.

“Well, I… I didn’t tell you when it happened, but… but the suspect died in custody.”

“Oh?” Logan kept his eyes on his mug, letting the steam fog his glasses.

“Yeah. He had some kind of heart attack in the hospital. They were understaffed and nobody noticed until he’d already started to crash.” Patton chewed at his thumbnail until Logan reached across the table and gently tugged at his hand. Patton gave his little brother a half smile and folded his hands in his lap.

Logan waited for Patton to say more before finally asking, working to keep the tone of incredulity from his voice. “Do you grieve him? From what you’d said that night, he sounded like a—”

“I’m thrilled he’s dead.” Logan pretended not to notice when Patton rubbed the hidden rosary under his sleeve. He shook his head. “That came out wrong. I… “ he sighed heavily, tilting his head against the back of his chair.

The brothers sat together without speaking for several minutes. Logan broke the silence. “You will feel better if you talk about it.”

“The Captain says I’ve gotta let this go. Count it as a lucky break. The guy was gonna get off because of the way we handled the case. And probably go and do it again. But, I just—” Patton blew out a sharp breath. “There’s something about the case that just doesn’t sit right. The incident report from the officers who guarded his room described a doctor who checked on the suspect right before he died.”

Logan listened quietly, hands tightly gripping his mug to disguise the tremor he could feel in his fingertips.

“But nobody at the hospital can say who this doctor was. The officers don’t remember his name and there’s no corresponding report or notes in the suspect’s medical file. He just…” Patton ground his teeth. “This guy just appeared out of nowhere, went into the suspect's room and the next thing my officers say, he called for a crash cart ‘case the perp was dying.

“And then he just disappeared.”

Patton sat back in his chair, staring, eyes unfocused, at his now-empty mug. Logan stood and refilled both their drinks. “Are you concerned that this doctor may have done something to contribute to his death?”

“I wish that was it.” Logan looked up, furrowing his brow to hide his surprise at his brother’s words. “A manhunt I can handle. What I can’t handle is thinking my officers made the whole thing up.” Patton drank more of his cocoa and shook his head. “It feels a little too convenient that this perp was not only gonna walk but would probably sue the department for brutality and then he just mysteriously dies in our custody?”

Logan set his mug down on the table with a louder-than-intended thunk and put his hands in his lap, gripping his thighs under the table. “W-was there anything in the autopsy report that indicated foul play?”

“Nah.” Patton leaned his elbow on the table and rubbed at his forehead. “Maybe the Captain’s right. I’m just overthinking this.”

Logan nodded, unspeaking, not trusting his voice to remain steady.

“Thanks, Lo.” Patton looked up, beaming at his brother. “You’re such a good listener. I feel a lot better.” He stood and rinsed his cup then gave his brother a side hug and quick kiss on the top of his head. “Oh, your date! I’ve been so absorbed in all this”—he waved his hands around—”that I didn’t get to hear anything about Remus!”

Logan smiled and stretched his arms out, triggering a parasympathetic yawn response. “Perhaps tomorrow, Pat?” The yawn covered his tremulous voice. “It’s rather late.”

“Oh, of course, Lo!” Patton leaned over his brother, checking the time on his watch. “Oh, fuuuuuudge,” he drew out the word, catching himself just in time and drawing a small smirk from his brother. “It’s almost four! Okay, big brother rights. I order you to finish your cocoa and go to bed, mister!”

Logan forced a chuckle and nodded, “Yes, sir!”

“Okay. Good night, Lo.” Patton gave him one more hug and made his way down to his room.

He waited until he heard Patton’s door close before he leaned over the table and pressed his forehead against the cool, smooth surface, panting. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Logan counted out his breaths for a few minutes, waiting for the roaring in his ears to ease and his hands to still enough to lift his mug without dropping it. He stood, knees locked, and took a few more measured breaths. He brought his mug to the sink and rinsed it before fleeing to his room. He closed and locked both the bedroom and bathroom doors.

He turned on the shower in the dark. Logan stripped and sat on the floor of the shower under the stream of the water, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around his legs.

The water was hot. Too hot. It hurt the worst where the water first hit the side of his head and his face and his ribs. The tight chains of exhaustion and distraction strangling Logan’s mind slowly rusted away as the water pounded against his skin and he pictured his thoughts, his self drawing further and further away from the pain.

He was not his body. He was only his thoughts. It didn't matter what happened to his flesh. Nothing could reach him, nothing could touch him, nothing could hurt him inside his mind.

Logan’s thoughts grew clearer, more focused, sharper, as he pulled all of himself into the confines of his skull. He turned the problem around in his mind like a puzzle.

As the water turned cool, then cold, and finally icy, he felt the fog lift and he could clearly see the list of his errors in his mind. I rushed into my action on Utuado. I should have waited until he was released from police custody and taken care of him in his home. Outside of custody, the extinguishment of his life wouldn’t have even made a blip on Patton’s radar, let alone cause him to lose sleep.

I let my emotions dictate my deeds and rushed ahead without thinking things through.

Finally, he stood and shut off the water, shaking from the cold. He remained in the shower until his hair no longer dripped. Slow down. Think. Control your emotions.

Logan stepped out, wrapped a towel around his waist, and left the bathroom. The sun had begun to rise, casting his bedroom in a pink glow.

He dressed quickly and powered up his computer, then started his VPN. He felt his jaw slacken as he stared at the familiar emblem. Janus’ keychain.

Panicked, Logan slammed down the lid of his laptop and shoved his chair back, afraid to touch the computer. Stop. You have crossed the line from vigilant to paranoid. Logan took a deep breath and re-opened the laptop. He shook his head as he re-entered his password and restarted the VPN. Perhaps it would be good to dig just a little. Even paranoids are sometimes right. He opened a fresh Tor browser window and began to search.

As he poked at the edges of Matchr and the corporate ownership of TwoFaces VPN, feeling around for a loose thread to tug, Logan repeated his new mantra to himself. Slow down. Think. Control.

His phone buzzed next to him and an uncontrollable smile spread across his face when he read the notification that slipped down over the screen.

𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. -𝚁𝚎

Logan calculated and tapped out a response. He hit send before the rest of his mind could catch up.

𝟹,𝟻𝟷𝟶… -𝙻𝚘

He stared at the screen, then banged his head against the surface of his desk. ‘Control.’ Riiiight…

---

Standing on his doorstep, hand half-way raised toward the doorbell, was a little smudge of a man, his long sleeved, crisp white oxford with a crooked Windsor knot tucked neatly under a black blazer, dress slacks, and rather boring loafers. He dropped his hand immediately when Tosh opened the door and instead clutched a small stack of files and yellow legal pads to his chest.

“Oh, wow. It's really you," he whispered, blushing. He cleared his throat. "Uh, yes, Mr. Tosh. I'm from the firm. Your doorman let me up. My boss sent me with some information they’ve just received from a contact at Bellevue Hospital.” He leaned in and whispered like he was in some Agatha Christie novel. “Umm, they sent me instead of calling so, you know, it wouldn’t end up in the phone records?” His sentence ended with an uptalk, turning the statement into a question. He looked down at the gleaming tiled floor.

Tosh stared wordlessly at the man and took another sip of his drink.

“Well, sir, it appears that, um, well…" He took a deep breath. "Your name came up in a lab result for, well… an assault case, sir. My boss wanted me to come by and, you know, talk with you about your day on the, uh... “ He flipped through pages in the folder. His hands began to shake.

Tosh rolled his eyes. “You don’t need me to establish an alibi. What do you think the retainer is for?” He started to close the door and the man pushed the stack of files against the surface, stopping it.

“Please, Mr. Tosh, I’m sorry. He was insistent I speak with you personally. Please, sir." He dropped his voice and stepped closer to the towering man. He lowered the files as he wedged his foot against the bottom edge of the door. "I could lose my job if I go back empty-handed. He said I can't take 'no' for an answer." He swallowed, jumpy eyes never quite meeting his. "What can I do to persuade you?” His full lips spread into a smile, face open and innocent and delicious.

Tosh's eyes dragged up and down the man. He was short and his clothes didn't reveal much of the body underneath, the drape of his slim black trousers and the stretch of his starched button down across his squared shoulders provided only a tantalizing hint of what he was hiding underneath. He was young, though, bouncing with energy and looked significantly easier to deal with than the last one.

He seemed eager to please, too, big doe eyes blinking up at him, fringed by thick dark hair the perfect length to wrap around his fingers and pull. In Tosh’s long silence, the man shifted the folders in his arms, holding them against his body like a shield. Tosh smiled, all teeth and no light. “I think we can come up with something.”

The man swallowed but nodded rapidly, adjusting his glasses. “Thank you, thank you, sir!” He reached his hand out to shake, “My name is—”

“I don’t need to know and won’t remember. Get inside.”

Tosh turned his back on the nervous man and walked down the hall into his apartment, not bothering to see if he followed or even to close the door behind them.

Logan’s smile dropped as soon as Tosh turned away. He let the door fall closed behind them, careful not to touch it with his hands, then followed him to the living room and the long, L-shaped plush couch that dominated the space. As they walked, he pulled a pair of clear nitrile gloves from his pocket and slipped them on and pressed his star-struck smile back on his face by the time Tosh looked in his direction again. The man sat down near the center of the couch and took another sip of his drink.

Sunlight flooded into the living room from the adjacent terrace, and Logan could clearly see where the man had applied foundation to his face and neck and forearms, ineffectively covering the scratches Roman had given him. It looked like they hurt. Good. Logan's simpering smile wavered slightly and he felt a coiling hatred burning in his bones when Tosh grinned lazily, openly ogling his body while his last victim lay in a hospital bed.

Tosh tossed a pillow at his feet and leaned back against the thick backrest of the couch. “Don’t ever say I wasn’t a gentleman.” He winked, then finished his drink and set the glass down on the table in front of him.

Logan cleared his throat, forcing his voice up an octave. “Oh… you want me to—”

Tosh stared at him. “I don’t have all night and neither do you.”

Logan approached the couch, shuffling his feet, and placed the small stack of manila folders and notepads on the coffee table next to Tosh’s tumbler. He waited until the man had leaned his head back and closed his eyes, then knelt on the pillow between his legs, pulling a modified Epipen auto-injector from his back pocket as he did so. Inside was 2.19 CCs of a 62.5% solution of rocuronium bromide.

Based on Logan’s calculations, a dose sufficient to paralyze a horse.

He brushed his free hand against Tosh's knee and smiled up at him, then dug his fingers between the quadriceps tendon and the vastus to hold him steady while he jammed the device against the fleshy part of his outer thigh. “You’re right, Mr. Tosh. You don’t have all night.”

---

Patton tugged off his glasses and slouched over his desk, elbows resting on a haphazard stack of case files, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. The normally energizing buzz of the precinct’s typical ambient noise had begun to give him a headache but he refused to go home until he’d heard from the lab at Bellevue. He picked up his mug and frowned into the greyish dregs of this morning’s—last night’s?—coffee. Sighing, he stood and stretched, then stumbled his way to the break room for a fresher cup.

He was still walking back to his desk, blowing on the slightly-burnt tasting brew when he heard his desk phone ring. A few drops of coffee splashed over the edge of the mug as he raced to the phone, snatching up the receiver before it could go to voicemail. “This is Detective Sanders!” he near-shouted into the mouthpiece.

“Hi, Detective, this is Elizabeth Sadiq from the SAFE lab at Bellevue. You had a rush order for forensic analysis and DNA sampling?”

Scrambling to open Roman’s case file, Patton yanked the pen from his front pocket and held it over the inner cover of the folder. He also brought up his terminal to search the State’s database. “Yes, yes, thank you, we’ve been waiting for those results. I can send an officer to sign off on the chain of custody, but what can you tell me over the phone?”

She took a deep breath. “Well, yes, I can fax you the full summary, as well… and we did get a hit in the DNA index when we uploaded the results to the data warehouse.” She cleared her throat and lowered her voice. “You did not hear this from me, but… it’s ID #9826474.”

Patton typed into the search field as she read. Mars Tosh’s profile filled the screen. He had to scroll twice to see all of the times the man had been associated with a case in the State DNA index.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“Well, thanks, Dr. Sadiq. I gotta call the DA.”

Patton hung up and had just begun to dial his favorite paralegal in the District Attorney’s office when the desk sergeant tapped his shoulder. He covered the mouthpiece as he listened to the phone ring.

“Hey, Sanders, Captain’s got something for you.” He reached over and depressed the plunger on Patton’s phone.

"What the—" Patton started.

Sergeant Bittman muttered, “Captain's orders.”

---

Logan's eyes widened when the needle on the auto-injector didn't engage. He jumped to his feet and leaned over Tosh, driving his knee into his groin as he tried it again. The needle wouldn't click.

Fuck. Initial shock and pain dissolving in a roar, Tosh pushed against Logan hard, knocking him to the floor. He landed with a heavy thud, his sternum frozen as he gasped for breath.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Tosh pulled a phone from his trouser pocket and started to unlock it. Still gripping the auto-injector, Logan kicked at Tosh's shins, landing a few blows more through luck than strategy while he struggled to get out from the tight space between the coffee table and the adjacent side of the couch. Logan got one more good kick in at Tosh's knee and he dropped to the floor with a cry. Logan scrambled to his feet and stomped on Tosh's hand, freeing the phone from his grip. He kicked it away and under the couch just as Tosh swung at his face, the blow knocking off his glasses. The frames hit the edge of the coffee table with a small crack.

Logan ran from the living room, fighting to recall the apartment floorplan he’d found on Zillow while he’d waited across the street for Tosh to be home and alone. Tosh was only a few feet behind him when he finally spotted a blurry stainless steel and glass reflection glinting from a framed mirror along the long hallway. He darted into the room and rushed toward a counter filled with gadgets.

Tosh growled as he barreled into the room behind him. “You fucking little punk, go ahead and run. We’re going to have some fun tonight.” Logan’s hand brushed against a large butcher’s block and his fingers closed around a heavy knife handle. The man’s eyes widened slightly but then he licked his lips, teeth showing in a nasty smile. “Oh, you like knives, honey? Me, too.”

Shoving the Epipen back into his pocket, Logan cried out and ran at the man, knife held high. The tactic worked and Tosh instinctively ducked, allowing Logan to slip past him and back toward the living room.

Swearing loudly, Tosh pursued.

---

Patton poked his head into the Captain’s office. “Cap’n? Bittman said you wanted to see me?”

He sighed. “Sit down.” He plucked a report from the printer sitting behind his desk. “The Commissioner’s little predictive policing program just flagged another potential vic.” He crossed his arms. “As you well know, we missed the last one—”

“Sir, that ‘vic’ was an accused child molester who offed himself!”

The captain sighed again. “We can’t afford to show up after the fact on this one.”

Patton leaned forward, pressing his hands against the Captain’s desk. “Sir, I’m right in the middle of something on the King case.”

“And that’s why I called you. A couple days ago you said your victim in that case identified Mars Tosh, right?”

“Yes, and we just got the lab report and the… the evidence is there.” Patton shuddered, recalling that long list of previous cases. "We might actually have a chance to put this slimeball away with this one."

The captain slapped the printout on the desk. “Well, now your perp is coming up as a predicted vic.” Patton scanned the report, lips curled in disgust.

“But, Captain—”

“You know who this guy is. We don’t need any more news cameras down here.” Patton stared at the floor. “Moss and Cortez will meet you up there. Go check it out. Bittman will request a warrant for the King case but in the meantime," he pointed a thick finger at the report in Patton's hands. "This is your case now.”

---

Logan raced across the living room and pushed through the patio doors out to the terrace. The rain had finally stopped sometime yesterday, but the stone tiles outside were still slippery. He skidded to the side, nearly falling as he rushed to get into defensible position. Tosh’s loud swearing carried through the open door, followed by a heavy thud and a pained groan. Logan swallowed and tried to slow his breathing as he tightened his grip on the knife.

Tosh burst through the doorway and Logan leaped at his back, holding the knife against his side and struggling to grasp the man's hand until he finally got a good grip on his wrist and twisted. He pulled upward, forcing his hand up and past his scapula.

The hulking man roared in pain and threw Logan off his back. Logan landed hard, the impact loosening his grip on the knife. Tosh kicked him until he tossed the knife away and curled up in a ball to protect his ribs, his stomach, and his groin, arms criss-crossed over his head. Leaving him there for a moment, Tosh found the knife and plucked it up with one hand and grabbed Logan’s hair with the other, yanking him up to his feet.

“You want it rough, honey? Oh, I can give you rough.”

Fighting to ignore the pain in his ribs and his head, Logan kicked at the man’s legs but Tosh just pulled harder on his hair. His longer arms effectively kept himself out of range of Logan’s shorter reach, preventing the sharp blows from landing. Tosh dragged him over to the terrace railing and pushed him against it, letting the stone features of a gargoyle planter dig into his lower back. “Now, time for you to learn some manners.” Shoving his knee into Logan’s stomach, Tosh sliced down with the knife, the long cut leaving a burning trail down his chest. He leaned in close, lips curled in a sneer. “Play nicely or the next cut will matter.” Turning his head away from the man’s hot, vodka-infused breath, Logan squinted, desperately seeking anything on the terrace to use as a weapon, anything at all he could use to get away and buy himself time to come up with a new plan.

Fingers still tangled in his hair, Tosh twisted Logan’s head to face him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Even through his daze, vision blurred from the blows and the pain, Logan could see the hatred burning in the man’s eyes. He thought about Roman facing down those same eyes, and the fear and worry and hurt in Remus’ face in the hospital from he he'd done.

Whatever you have to do.

Logan stopped struggling. He held his breath, fire shooting through his ribs, then slowly released it, forcing his muscles to relax. His skin crawled. Tosh's fingers in his hair burned like acid, and his whole body started to shake. “There, that’s better,” Tosh crooned with a smile. “This doesn’t have to hurt. Much.”

Still grinning, he leaned over and placed the knife on a patio chair out of Logan’s reach. Logan felt the taller man’s center of gravity shift as he moved back to fully face him. Taking a chance, he ducked, feeling hair rip from his scalp as Tosh leaned forward to grab at him. Twisting his shoulder and catching Tosh just under his belt, Logan suddenly pushed up with his legs and stood, lifting the man off his feet high enough to get his head, arms, and chest over the side of the rail.

Twisting back the other way, Logan shoved once more and Tosh flipped over the railing and down to the street below.

---

The crowd gathering on the sidewalk a few dozen yards from the lobby doors of Mars Tosh’s building reminded Patton of a circle of vultures. He shuddered as he engaged the parking brake. Slamming the car door closed behind him, he held his badge. “Okay, folks, let’s not block the sidewalk, please…”

A few tourists stepped aside, and Patton sidled past the hardened native New Yorkers who would need more than a ‘please’ to clear the way. Deeper in the crowd, Patton encountered two officers from his precinct. “Detective…”

Patton caught sight of the awkwardly bent form laid out on the sidewalk and draped in a sheet, a foot poking out at an unnatural angle. He bowed his head for a moment then asked the closest officer. “From the building?”

“Yes. Um, Detective… We talked to the doorman.” He jerked his head over to a man in one of those ridiculous hats talking to a detective from the 19th precinct. “It’s Mars Tosh.” Patton looked up at the building above them.

He whistled lowly. “His apartment's on the 18th floor.”

“Yeah. There's not much left.” The officer turned to nudge a few braver on-lookers further from the body. “There’s a team up there now.”

Patton gnawed at his lip. “Thanks. I’ll head up, too.”

---

Logan crouched in an electrical closet next to the service elevator on the 18th floor, listening to police radios beep and crackle while the NYPD team scoured Tosh’s apartment. He’d already counted at least five officers inspecting the space and the ding of the guest elevators on the other side of the wall signaled the arrival of more. He shifted and grit his teeth, fire radiating from his likely cracked ribs. He strove to avoid further jostling where his bloodied shirt clung to the wound from Tosh’s knife. The last time he’d pulled at the shirt, the long gash had reopened, causing a fresh round of blood to seep through the material. He cursed his decision to wear a white shirt. Black would have better obscured the stain.

In the first few breathless moments after Tosh’s feet had cleared the railing, Logan had collapsed on the stone tiles, panting heavily. Each jagged breath had sent stabbing pains through his ribcage, his stomach, his head. He’d counted to sixty, giving himself one minute of rest before he’d rolled over and worked out his next steps.

With gratitude, he looked down at his hands, still gloved, so at least fingerprints were not an issue.

Logan felt a warm wetness dripping down his chest and lifted his jacket. The front of his shirt was red. Careful to avoid touching his shirt or his own skin, he turned up his collar and closed his blazer closer around himself to ensure he didn’t leave a trail in Tosh’s apartment. He pulled himself to his knees and scanned the patio.

He blinked, the headrush from the sudden movement fuzzing his vision. At last, his eyes landed on the knife and he stood and picked it up. Using his sleeve, he wiped away the blood—his blood—from the patio chair where it had laid, then grabbed a bit of soil from the closest planter and sprinkled a small amount over the surrounding tiles, table, and chair. He brushed most of the dirt aside, too, hoping to make any spots picked up by a blacklight look like phosphorus from the soil.

Temporarily satisfied, Logan stumbled to the kitchen to wash and clean the knife.

Logan then returned to the living room. His ribs protested angrily as he bent to grab the stack of files he’d brought as a prop. He stumbled as he tucked them under his arm, knocking over Tosh’s empty tumbler. He fell to one knee and knelt for a moment, gripping the folders tightly as he struggled to breathe past the pain. He stared at the empty glass on the floor.

Hurry.

Sudden inspiration drove Logan to pick up the glass. He smelled the contents, shuddering when it brought back the memory of Tosh pressing him against the railing just a few minutes ago. Ignoring the icy, irrational fear squeezing his stomach, he checked the bar and found a half-empty bottle of vodka. He brought both back out to the terrace and poured some in the glass, then set the bottle on the ground, equidistant from the patio table and the spot where he’d fought with Tosh. He gently kicked over the bottle, rolling it slightly to let the vodka spill over the tiles, filling the terrace with the odor of alcohol. He worked quickly, the pain from his injuries already affecting his vision.

Hurry.

Logan returned to the living room once more, scanning the room for anything he may have missed. He squinted and reached up to adjust his glasses, wondering if he had time to clean them.

His hand closed on nothing.

He slapped at his temples and the bridge of his nose. His glasses! His mind flashed to Tosh striking him in the living room, knocking the glasses from his face.

Fuck. He looked around the room, but his compromised vision made it a daunting task. He’d just dropped to his knees and begun to feel around the floor for the missing frames when he heard the elevator ding.

Hurry.

Panicked, Logan jumped to his feet and limped back through the living room door into the rest of the house. Not to the right not to the right not to the right not to the right, he chanted, closing his eyes for a moment to envision the apartment layout. Go left.

He’d just slipped through to the corridor that led to the service elevators when the guest elevator dinged again and the doors had slid open. The crackle and chatter of police radios filled the space as Logan had slid to the floor in the electrical closet, biting his lip to stifle his pained whine as he'd tried to quiet his breaths.

That had been almost an hour ago.

Another ding announced the arrival of yet more officers and Logan grit his teeth, pushing back against the panic bubbling in his stomach. The elevator doors slid opened and a single set of footsteps echoed as the occupant left the elevator. He listened as an officer intercepted the new arrival. “I’m sorry, sir, but this is an active—Oh, sorry, Detective Sanders, didn’t recognize you there.”

---

Patton stepped off the elevator and suppressed a smile when an eager young rookie stopped him. The younger man’s eyes widened when he realized his mistake. “Protecting the inner perimeter, well done, Officer.” Patton nodded at him, then followed the sound of radios into the rest of the apartment.

He walked down a long, gleaming hallway toward a formal living room. A large, white L-shaped couch, dotted with coral and puce accent pillows was at one end. A bar was at the other, two rows of top-shelf spirits lined up along the back edge. There was an open space on the back row and a lowball glass appeared to be missing from what was otherwise a fully stocked shelf of stemware.

Patton stepped out onto the terrace.

The majority of the officers were there, measuring the height of the railing, peering over the edge, and speculating on whether Tosh had actually jumped or merely fell. The strong stench of alcohol and the half-drunk glass outside seemed to indicate the latter. His eyes caught on an empty bottle of vodka, just about the right size to fit in the gap he saw on the bar.

Patton shuddered as he went back inside. Was the slimeball having a celebratory drink?

Forcing his thoughts back to a more professional track, Patton walked around the living room, standing in front of the bar, miming the motions of pouring a drink and then turned toward the patio doors.

He tilted his head, staring at the pillows on the couch. One of the puce-colored pillows also appeared to be missing, breaking the orange-puke-orange-puke pattern. He walked around the short side of the couch and found the pillow on the floor. As he stared at it, his eye caught on a thin, long, bit of familiar dark blue plastic sticking out from under the coffee table.

Moving automatically, he bent to retrieve it and nearly choked.

Patton had teased Logan for unknowingly selecting matching frames the last time they’d both purchased fresh pairs online. Their orders had arrived the same day and they'd laughed as they'd tried on each other's glasses, wincing at the instant eye pain the incorrect prescriptions had triggered.

Logan had insisted on labeling his frames to distinguish them, using an Exact-o knife to carve his initials on the inner arms to ensure he could tell the difference even with blurred vision.

Holding his breath, Patton's hands shook as he looked down at the eyeglasses in his hand, one lens cracked. He traced the tiny LS on the inside edge of the frames.

"Detective?" The rookies' voice in the hall startled him and he shoved the frames into his pocket without thinking.

He cleared his throat and turned to face him. "Yes, Officer?" Patton asked in a voice far calmer than he felt.

"Captain's on the radio for you," he said as he stretched his receiver over to Patton, pressing it into his clammy hand.

“The detective from the One-Nine says she thinks this looks like a tragic accident.” The captain cleared his throat and Patton could feel his glare coming through the radio. “What’s your take, Detective?”

Patton licked his lips and gripped the radio a little tighter. “It… it looks like Tosh got drunk and fell off his terrace, sir.”

“Hmph.” The captain was quiet for a few moments, keeping the radio open. Finally, he muttered, “Keep your guys quiet. No media. Not until we get a hold of his family. Got it?”

“Yes, Captain.” Patton met the rookie’s eyes and he nodded rapidly.

“Wrap things up there before the paparazzi get word.”

“Yes, Captain,” he said again. “Thank you, sir.” The radio squawked and then fell silent.

Patton sucked in a deep breath. “You heard the Captain.” He raised his voice, walking toward the terrace as he spoke. “Pack it in. Captain's sending us home."

---

Logan grimaced, breathing shallowly in the closet, ignoring the advice to take deep breaths after breaking ribs. Deep breaths meant pain, and deep breaths meant another coughing fit, and he could afford neither while he continued to hide, listening as the NYPD team shut down their investigation and, bit by bit, left Tosh’s apartment.

He listening closely to their chatter, seeking any indication that they had found his glasses, but none ever came. He’d been able to surmise that the alcohol he’d left out on the terrace had helped convince them that Tosh had gotten drunk and fallen over the railing. And it sounded as though he’d succeeded in preventing any blood from dripping around the floor as he’d cleaned the scene.

The presence of his glasses, however, would prove more than incriminating. Particularly given that detective leading the investigation would recognize them in an instant.

He waited a long time in the electrical closet, counting out the seconds for several more minutes after the apartment grew silent, needing to be certain everyone had gone. Finally, he stood. A whimper escaped the back of his throat with the movement, a line of fire shooting through his ribcage as the muscles around his injured ribs shifted and stretched. Logan leaned against the doorway for a moment to catch his breath, then slipped through and began to hunt for his eyeglasses.

Logan allotted himself five minutes for his search. He didn’t know how much time he might have before someone from Tosh’s family or staff might appear. He counted out the seconds from 300 and by the time he’d gotten to zero, he still hadn’t found them. They could not have simply disappeared. In all likelihood, the police had found them during the investigation and they were sitting in an evidence bag at the precinct.

He wanted to make sure he didn’t follow to a holding cell, so Logan took the service elevator down to the basement, then slipped through a propped door leading to the alley behind the swanky apartment building. Tucking his blazer closely around his blood-stained shirt, he started walking downtown.

---

Roman shifted in his hospital bed, groaning slightly. Earlier that morning, a nurse had come in and disconnected him from the monitors and removed the oxygen tube, giving Roman a near-complete return of his mobility. That didn’t stop Janus from rearing up like an angry bear when the hospital staff prodded him or from doting on him once they were gone.

Janus tugged at his blanket a bit where his foot was catching at an awkward angle. "Hmm…" Roman hummed. "Okay, truth."

Janus rolled his eyes with a little smile.

"Oh, c'mon, Ro Bro. That's your third 'truth' in a row. I already know all your secrets. Show some chutzpah." He waggled his eyebrows. "Say dare."

"Okay, 'dare,'" Roman said, a little glint in his eye.

"The two of you!" Janus cried, a grin peeking out from the sides of his scowl. "You are in a hospital!" Remus winked at Roman.

"He's an angry elf," he whispered loudly.

Janus flung his arms up in the air feigning exasperation as Roman reached for his hand with a tiny smirk. Stretching his upper lip too much tugged at the stitches and they'd already had to have a few of them redone in the last two days.

Patton knocked on the half-open door. "Am I interrupting anything?"

"Oh, Detective." Roman's voice cracked, laughter dying on the twins lips. Janus moved closer to Roman, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Please, come in."

Remus' knee began to bounce and he pushed against his thigh, forcing his heel to the floor. "Is there news?"

Patton nodded slowly. "There've been some... developments in the case." Roman pulled Janus a little closer and Remus reached for his hand. All three stared at the detective.

"I just got back from Tosh's apartment." He took a deep breath. "He's dead."

Remus' ears filled with static as he held his breath, watching Patton's face carefully for any sign of news about Logan. He gradually became aware of Roman's voice.

"... you sure?" Janus held Roman's hand to his lips, not speaking.

"I saw the body." Patton swallowed hard and bowed his head. "I'm sure."

Tears sprung to Roman's eyes and his hands shook. Remus gave his hand a little squeeze, eyes darting to his quiet phone charging on a counter across the room. "What—what happened? Did the arrest—"

Patton shook his head. "He, um… It looks like he'd been drinking… a lot... out on his terrace and he must've tripped or became disoriented and… he fell." Patton grimaced. "It was 18 storeys."

Janus rubbed the back of Roman's hand against his cheek. "I would like to pretend to be saddened by the loss of life, but…"

Remus remained silent, watching the seemingly permanent crimp in Roman's forehead begin to melt away, and his eyes soften. Roman took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, leaning back against the raised top half of his hospital bed.

"I… " Patton clasped his hands in front of him, also watching Roman's expression. "I wanted to make sure you knew that… that you don't have to worry about him anymore."

He nodded, wincing as his tears stung a healing scrape on his cheekbone. "Thank you Detective, um... Patton."

Reaching for the tissues, Remus carefully blotted the tears from Roman's face as Janus kissed the side of his head. Remus silently handed Janus a few tissues for his own tears.

He cleared his throat, still clutching his husband's bruised hand to his chest. "So what now?

"Well," Patton smiled for the first time that afternoon. "Roman was medically cleared to leave the hospital this morning. Landis from Victims Services pulled some strings and had the nurses slow walk it…" He shrugged. "The discharge order is still sitting in their inbox."

He tilted his head toward Roman. "I imagine you'd be more comfortable in your own bed?"

"Oh, dear Zeus, yes!" He poked at the mattress, making a face. "Not to complain but, well, these beds really could really use firmer mattresses and…" his voice trailed off, a slight flush covering his face as Remus raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Not to complain, though, right, Ro Bro?" Janus chuckled and shook his head at the twins.

"I'll let Landis know. She would also like to get you set up with some trauma counseling. It would be a good idea." He included both Janus and Remus in his gaze. "For all of you."

Patton finally looked around the room, lingering on the coat rack containing only Janus and Remus' outerwear. "Where's Logan? I figured he'd be in here with you."

Janus started to shrug but Remus quickly interjected, "He went searching for some decent coffee. Have you tried the bean water from the break room?" Roman narrowed his eyes at his brother. Remus put on an exaggerated shudder to hide the tremor in his voice. "I mean, it beats caffeine withdrawal but not by much," he laughed a little too loudly.

Patton nodded, looking down at Remus' shaking hands as he felt the weight of Logan's broken eyeglasses in his pocket. "I guess I'll have to I'll catch him at home after my shift ends, then."

"I'll let him know you're looking for him," Remus grinned at him with a bright and brittle smile.

"Thanks." Patton nodded again, curling his lips into a tight grin. "Well, I'll go talk to Landis. You have my card and hers. Call me when you're settled at home, if you like, to check in." He slipped back through the door.

"Re, what was—” Janus began quietly once Patton was out of earshot.

Roman suddenly turned to Janus, interrupting. "Oh, Sweetheart, would you mind handing me my water?" He smiled carefully at Janus.

"Of course, my dear." When Janus turned to fetch Roman's water cup, the latter met Remus' eye and winked.

"Fill me in later?" he later asked his brother when Janus had left to refill his water pitcher.

"You got it, Ro Bro."

---

Remus checked his phone for at least the tenth time since leaving Roman and Janus' place. And for the tenth time, there was still no message or call from Logan.

The mechanics of Roman's hospital discharge had been anticlimactic. The speed with which Landis arrived with a thick set of pamphlets, group therapy schedules and therapist referrals for each of them, plus a joint series for Roman and Janus, revealed just how much she had been holding back while she waited for an arrest.

Roman groaned, leaning heavily against Remus as they stepped off the elevator. "C'mon, Ro Bro, just a few more feet. You got this!"

"It's not my fault the meds make me so damned tired," Roman whined at first and then frowned as they waited for Janus to unlock the door. "I'm sorry. I feel like a child."

Janus turned as he pushed the door open. He smiled at Roman and lifted his palm to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against the unbroken skin. "My dear, we are here for you no matter what." Remus looked down at the floor as Roman allowed Janus to lead him inside their apartment.

"Wait," Roman interrupted them. "Are you both sure we have everything? And the wound check isn't until Friday? I really don't want to have to go all the way downstairs again."

"Hey, be grateful you and Jannie have an elevator and you don't have to walk up three flights! Remember that time I sprained my ankle? That fucking suuuuucked."

Roman chuckled.

"Yes, my dear." Janus kissed his hand again. "All you need to concern yourself with is relaxing and letting us take care of you."

Watching carefully as Remus shifted, putting his hands in his pockets, Roman leaned a little closer to Janus. "What I'd like to do most of all is sleep in my own bed." He raised an eyebrow at Remus. "You look pretty beat yourself there, Re."

"Wow, Ro Bro, you wound me," he grinned. "We can't all manage to look as fabulous as you and Jannie after zero sleep."

Roman's smile softened as he met Remus' gaze. "Go home and get some sleep, Re, so you don’t fall asleep on our floor.” He reached out and fussed with Remus' windswept waves. "I don't want to have to step over in the dark."

He'd huffed out a quiet laugh and had raised his hands in mock defeat. “All right, all right, you’ve convinced me. But you won’t get rid of me so easily when I come by later in the week.”

Roman had just laughed over his shoulder as Janus had waved and carefully led him into their apartment. “Damn right, I won’t.”

Remus put his phone in his pocket and unlocked his door, fumbling briefly with the keys and dropping them with a loud clang. He bent to retrieve them and noticed a small reddish-brown circle on the tile outside his door. He scratched at it with his thumbnail and it easily scraped away. Frowning, he smelled it, then swallowed, his throat gone dry. Blood.

Remus looked around him and saw another few drops leading away from his apartment. He re-locked his door and followed the drops. He hadn’t noticed them when he’d first come up the stairs and walked down the hallway, but now that he was looking for them, they seemed to pop out on the tile. Some of the drops were smaller than the others, with the larger drops interspersed with the smaller, and increasing in frequency as he got closer to the staircase.

He got to the landing and froze. Both the steps leading downstairs and those leading up were dotted in drops. The steps leading up had more of them and each was larger. Remus bit his lip and he started up the stairs, following the browning splotches of blood.

Remus followed them all the way to the top, the trail seeming to end a few feet from the door to the roof. He'd taken a step toward the roof door, about to pull it open when he was interrupted by a small groan. Turning, he saw Logan sitting on the floor, tucked into the space between the wall and a large, floor-to-ceiling fire controls box. Remus’ eyes widened when he saw the broad swath of red down his shirt and he rushed over and knelt in front of him.

“Lo?” His voice cracked as he reached for his hand and Logan's eyes turned and slowly focused on Remus. “Lo, is that… is that blood?"

He shook his head, blinking slowly. “Don’t worry, it’s mine…”

“What?!” Remus ripped open his shirt, the blood beginning to coagulate along the long, angry cut. The rest of Logan’s chest and sides are littered with deep purple bruises. “Oh my god, Lo, you’re hurt. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I did not wish to concern you,” he said quietly. He leaned his head back against the wall, a small whine escaping the back of his throat with each inhalation. “Besides, you have my phone.”

“What? I don’t have your phone.”

Logan smiled and winced. “Check your pocket with the torn seam.” Remus fished through the lining of his coat, his hand finally closing on the small device and his missing button. He stared down at them. “It is almost unfair how easy it is to pull a sleight of hand trick on someone who’s crying.”

“What? Why would you do that, Lo?”

He shrugged and grimaced at the wave of pain that small gesture triggered. “GPS. And I needed it somewhere you wouldn’t happen upon it by accident in case you weren’t alone when you did.”

“But, Lo, what if you needed something?”

“I would… improvise.”

“But Lo.” Remus tentatively touched Logan's ribs, wincing when Logan flinched back in pain. "Lo, you need to go to the hospital."

"No. No, no hospital. Too suspicious." He panted and stared at a spot on the floor. "I am fine, I… I will be fine. I…" He paused, the effort of speaking and breathing seeming to be a bit too much. "I simply needed to rest a bit to work out what to do." He looked down at his chest and tried to pull his shirt closed. "I did not think I could hide the shirt on the train and I didn’t… I didn’t know where else to go."

His voice grew quieter. "I'm sorry… I did not intend to trouble you, Remus…” He leaned his head against the side of the fire box and closed his eyes. A few tears began to trail down his face. Remus had just begun to think that perhaps Logan had passed out when he asked, “How did you find me?”

“You were bleeding in the hall.” Remus wiped away Logan’s tears and then his own. “I followed the trail.”

His brow furrowed and Remus thought he could see Logan calculating.“What time is it?”

“Almost 9.”

“Oh, no,” he opened his eyes and tried to straighten, groaning as he leaned against the wall. He panted and began to breathe more shallowly. “I have been here considerably longer than I'd planned. It is fortunate you found me and no other residents did.”

Remus chuckled. “Yeah, nobody likes to go on the roof. The view was ruined when they built the towers… you can't hardly see anything now.”

“I apologize for the stains in your hall. I will return tomorrow and clean them.”

“Oh my god Lo! You're so smart but you’re such an idiot. I don't care about the floor. I care that you're bleeding.” Remus scrubbed at the tears dripping from his own eyes. “Lo, let me bring you home.”

“Very well, thank you.” He waved toward Remus’ pocket where he’d slipped Logan’s phone and let his eyes fall closed. “Would you mind getting the Lyft?”

“No, Love. Let me bring you home. C'mon.” Remus reached for Logan’s hands as he stood. Logan sat, frozen, eyes fixed on Remus. His mouth fell open a little as he stared up at him.

“You called me Love.”

Remus smiled sadly at him. “Of course I did. I’m sorry that… I’m so, so sorry." Remus knelt again and cupped Logan’s face in his hands. "Of course I love you, Lo. I love all of you.” He gently brushed away the tears that started to tumble down his cheeks.

He stood again, carefully helping Logan to his feet. He wrapped one arm around his waist, letting Logan lean against him. “Let’s go home, Love.”

---

Logan slowly opened his eyes. He was in bed. His head and his ribs still hurt but considerably less than before. He felt a half-frozen gel icepack pressed against the most painful part of his side and the aching line on his chest was covered in gauze, held in place with light blue sensitive skin tape.

And pressed against his back was Remus, one arm draped over his hips, the other tucked in the crook of his neck, loosely cradling him. Logan listened to his quiet, steady breathing for several minutes as he gathered his strength to rise.

He shifted, a flash of pain in his side forcing a small groan from the back of his throat.

Remus inhaled sharply and raised up in his elbow, peering closely down at him. “Lo, what is it?” His voice was rough and gravelly from sleep. “What can I do?”

Logan shook his head and started to sit up, “I should—” he grunted, the sharp pain in his chest pushing him back on the bed. He lay against the mattress, panting. He allowed Remus to carefully pull him back against his chest.

“You should lie down,” Remus whispered near his ear. Logan nodded slowly and surrendered to the prickly softness of Remus’ lips as he pressed tender kisses against his shoulder, and to the heat in his hands as Remus stroked his arms, carefully avoiding the bruising on his left hand and arm. Logan closed his eyes and relished the comfort and warmth and safety of Remus’ embrace. He hoped it could last forever.

He knew it could not.

“Do you need anything?” Remus asked.

Logan gripped Remus’ hands in front of him, resting his cheek against the knuckles, blinking back hot tears. “Just this.”

Remus curved his body closer to him as he gently kissed the back of Logan's neck.

"Then go back to sleep, Love. I've got you."

---

Logan woke again, Remus' low voice washing over his sleep fuzzed thoughts.

“Yeah, Pat, he’s fine, just sleeping. I don’t think he slept a wink the whole time Ro was in the hospital. … Yeah, yeah your little brother takes good care of me. I’ll have him call you when he wakes up, okay?”

Remus ended the call and climbed back into bed, again curling himself against Logan’s back. “I think he still believes me, but…”

“I’ll need to go home and see him soon,” Logan whispered. He sighed and closed his eyes against his blurry vision, that constant reminder that the worst was yet to come.

Remus’ warm hands traced his arms, his hip, then finally rested on his belly, letting the heat sooth his bruises. “I don’t want to let go of you.”

Logan turned his face from him to hide the tears dripping down his cheeks. “Maybe just a little while longer.” He let himself melt into Remus' arms.

---

They waited together in Remus’ lobby for Logan's rideshare back to Brooklyn. Remus chuckled, looking over Logan's shoulder at the app screen. "How does no-one see that 38th is a one-way?"

Realization dawned on Remus’ face. “Oh! Oh, god, Lo! How could I not notice? Your glasses! Are they upstairs?” He started to turn toward the staircase.

Logan shook his head. “I… I left them at my apartment.”

“Oh. Oh, good.” Remus drew him close once again, gently wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing the side of Logan’s head, avoiding the tender spots on the back and top of his scalp.

His phone buzzed. “Car's here,” Remus frowned. “Can… can we get together soon? I mean, I want you to rest but…”

Logan pressed a smile on his face. “Can I call you in the morning and we'll make a plan?”

“I'd like that,” Remus murmured against his neck and he turned Logan around in his arms. He stroked his hair and pulled him in for a long kiss.

Letting his eyes drift closed, Logan fell into the kiss, relishing the heat and the softness, sinking into Remus' gentle grip as he held back from crushing their bodies together, but tight enough to never slip away.

He broke away and whispered against his lips, “I love you so much, Remus.”

“And I love you, Lo.” He smiled down at him. “See you later.”

Logan left his building and got into the Lyft and before he whispered, “Goodbye,” and lowered his head as the tears started to fall.

---

“Lo, you’re home!” Patton had rushed to the door at the sound of Logan’s key in the lock and he stood now in the hallway, holding the door open for his brother. The key still hung in the lock and Patton watched as Logan carefully twisted it back out. He moved slowly, avoiding the twisting motion he knew would trigger the sharp pains he could not hide, or worse, a coughing spell that would leave him crying and breathless.

Patton stepped back, giving him room to remove his shoes. Logan felt his brother’s eyes on him as he turned his back, jaw tightening as he toed off his shoes and removed the borrowed sweater they'd found in the back of Remus’ closet. “How are you this evening, Patton?” he asked quietly, a little breathless from the effort of masking the shooting pain every breath sent through his ribs.

“Relieved that you’re home.” He nodded. He tugged at Logan’s, or, rather, Remus’ long-sleeved thermal. “Is this new?”

“Ah, no, it belongs to Remus.” Logan carefully turned to face Patton. “He was kind enough to lend me a change of clothes. My own are at the cleaners down the street from his building.”

Logan could just make out Patton’s broadening grin. “Hey, is it too warm out for hot cocoa?” Logan forced a small smile, shaking his head. “Then two hot cocoas, coming up. I’ll make them if you keep me company in the kitchen.”

Patton returned to the kitchen faster than Logan could reply, so he followed wordlessly and sat in his usual seat at the kitchen table. Patton took out the saucepan and the milk. He hummed quietly as he poured in the milk and chocolate, then turned on the heat and started to stir. He waited until the chocolate began to melt before speaking again, still facing the stove.

“So I guess Remus told you about Tosh.”

Logan nodded. “Yes. Yes, he did.” He cleared his throat, “I, um, I apologize for staying out so long without checking in. Remus also told me you called his phone this morning while I was asleep.”

Patton quietly nodded, stirring the chocolatey mixture, letting the wooden spoon scrape along the bottom and the edges of the pot so the hot chocolate wouldn’t stick. “You were really looking out for him and his family while Roman was in the hospital. Remus is lucky to have someone like you by his side.” He added a little more chocolate to the mixture.

“I’ve seen a lot of evil out there in the world,“ he said as he clicked off the stove and continued to stir the steaming mixture. “It felt good to be able to tell Roman that he didn’t have to worry about him any more.”

Logan nodded, wrapping his arms around himself. “I can imagine.”

Patton took down two mugs and filled them both before setting one down in front of Logan and settling into the chair opposite him with his own cup. He blew on the cocoa, not looking at Logan.

“All that evil, all those people doing horrible things. Murders, assaults…“ Patton sighed and took a sip from his mug. “You know what I mean?” He finally looked up at Logan.

Logan felt his throat clench. He couldn't read his expression, but there was no mistaking Patton's stare. He knows. They must have found my glasses at his apartment. Oh my god, Patton knows. He nodded wordlessly, afraid his shaking voice would be the final confirmation Patton seemed to be seeking.

“I’m glad there are still good men out there, too. Men willing to fight back against it. It’s why I joined the force. It helps me know I’m fighting on the right side, fighting alongside real heroes every day.” He quietly drank more of his cocoa. Logan forcibly pushed his heels against the legs of the chair to control the tremor in his calves.

“And the heroes are out there.” Patton turned his cup around on the table, the heavy ceramic causing vibrations to buzz up through Logan’s arms where they pressed against the surface of the table. “Sometimes it feels like the bad guys outnumber us. That they're just everywhere and we don't even know it. And you can’t always tell from the outside.”

He stared at Logan. “But the good guys are out there, too. And we can’t let the evil defeat us.” Logan lifted his cup to his lips, hoping to hide his shudder. He set down the cup before his trembling grip caused it to fall.

Humming, Patton finished his hot cocoa and brought his empty cup to the sink. He kept his back to Logan as he washed and dried the cup before returning it to the cupboard.

Logan stared down into his cup, afraid if he lifted it with his shaking hands it would spill. He silently counted his breaths, fighting back against the panic he felt rising up his chest and throat, tiny scrabbling claws digging into his him, threatening to tear through his mouth and pour all over the table.

Patton stopped next to Logan’s chair on his way out of the kitchen. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Logan’s broken eyeglasses and set them down next to Logan’s hand. He gently brushed the bruise on his left hand that shone through the foundation Remus had helped him apply on the marks that peeked out beyond the sleeves and collar of the borrowed shirt.

Logan stared down at the glasses, hands shaking. His shoulders slumped and he fought for breath. His eyes filled with tears as he squinted up at Patton. Between the tears and the uncorrected vision, he couldn’t make out Patton’s features.

Patton picked up the glasses and gently put them on Logan’s face. Despite the cracked lens, Logan could now clearly see the broad smile drawn across Patton’s face. "Remus isn't the only one who's lucky to have you on his side."

He tenderly pushed Logan’s hair from his eyes, wincing a bit when he spotted some of the bruising on his scalp. He leaned forward and softly kissed his forehead. “I love you, Kiddo." Logan gasped and reached for Patton's hand. He held his little brother's hand then gave it a gentle shake. "Big brother rights… don’t stay up too late.”

---

Logan sat at the kitchen table, half-way through his second cup of coffee. He smiled when he heard the radiator’s soft hiss grow louder. Winter did not want to let go of its grip on the city. It was already March and they'd just had three consecutive nights of below-freezing temperatures. It was a relief to know that the old building’s furnace was still powering through another long winter.

He scrolled through his phone, continuing to check his email, quickly swiping away the spam and scanning the auto-notifications for anything to flag. He’d just deleted another spam email when a text notification took over his screen. Taking another sip of his coffee, his brow furrowed slightly.

Remus walked into their kitchen and stood behind him, running his fingers through his damp hair, gently massaging his scalp and his temples. Remus smiled when Logan leaned into his touch, lowering his phone and closing his eyes. The tense line running across his forehead remained, though. Remus bent over and nuzzled his neck, “What’s wrong, Love?”

“It’s Patton. He wants me to meet him at Starbucks at 11.”

Remus nodded, then asked, “For coffee or cocoa?”

“Cocoa.”

Remus hummed and rubbed his shoulders as Logan let his head fall back against his stomach. “Home late tonight, then?” He bent down, pressing soft kisses against Logan’s temple, his cheek, then down to his neck.

He nodded. “Most likely.” Logan turned in his seat, looking up and meeting Remus’ eyes. “It’s a good night to meet up with Roman and Janus after therapy. Maybe take them to a show or to Pio’s?”

“‘Or both. Both. Both is good,’” he winked. Remus lifted Logan’s hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “Should I reschedule our dinner with them on Saturday?”

“Reschedule your birthday dinner?” Logan shook his head. “No, of course not. I will not let anything interfere with that.”

A blushing smile played at his lips as he nodded again. Remus trailed his hands through Logan’s hair and down the back of his neck, lacing his fingers together. He stepped closer and slipped one leg between Logan’s knees. “See you after, then?” Logan melted under the heat of Remus’ gaze.

“Most definitely,” Logan whispered.

The soft grin spread across Remus’ face. “Have I told you that I love you?”

Logan chuckled, “Not in the past fifteen minutes or so.”

“Oh, well then.” Remus pulled Logan to his feet and drew him close, wrapping his arms around his waist to close the distance between them. “I must rectify that egregious gap in my communications immediately.” He first kissed the sliver of skin at Logan’s open collar, catching just the edge of the scar on his chest. Raising his head, he kissed a soft trail up Logan’s neck and across his jaw until he hovered over his love’s mouth. “I love you, Lo,” he whispered against his lips before capturing his mouth in a long, slow kiss.

When they broke away for air, Logan whispered back, “And I love you.”

Remus grinned, “Can I show you how much?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Logan laughed. “What did you have in mind?”