#loceit week

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Janus only smiled, “Is that a no?”

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

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

~~~

tag @flowercrownsandtrauma hiya :3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Patton smiled back.

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

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

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

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

The little boy nodded, looking around the room.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Patton nodded, eyes wide.

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

After a long moment, he nodded once more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Comics.

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

“Mr. Janus?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine, Jan,” he smiled. “Truly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry folks, I need the room.”

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

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

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

She shook her head, frowning.

“I can carry you or Miss Grace—”

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

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

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

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

“Logan,” Janus called suddenly in a sweet tone as the trash’s lid closed. 

The Side in question stayed silent; either to finish the line his eyes were currently on or to give Janus a taste of his own uncomfortable medicine. Either way, Janus rounded the kitchen corner and balanced a hip against the arm rest next to Remus. A gloved hand idly found its way into his partner’s curls; thoughtlessly, Remus leaned into the feeling, but remained otherwise unresponsive, clearly content with his scribbling. Logan finally blinked up. His expression seemed indecisive between exasperated and dubious, with a predictable amount of disinterest.

“What is it you’re reading?” Janus asked, brows and chin raised with an amount of intrigue that Logan didn’t immediately trust. Not to say Logan didn’t trust Janus individually, but even if he was the Side who understood Deceit the best, there was still quite a bit of water under this particular bridge -- or, uh, whatever idiom would fit here.

Instead of responding verbally, Logan held up the blue and black cover for Janus to read himself; which he then did. With a slightly cocked head, the words were enunciated slowly.

“Born Under Saturn. The Character and Conduct of Artists; A Documented History From Antiquity to The French Revolution,” Janus blinked back up at Logan’s face, digesting the rather wordy sentence. “An analysis of historical artists?” He attempted to boil the topic down to something more … succinct as Logan lowered the book again.

“Basically,” He allowed, eyes poised to resume his reading.

Janus hummed with peaked interest and continued to watch as Logan’s demeanor receded from vaguely conversational to studiously mute once more. In truth, it sounded like a rather compelling read. Being Thomas’ Sides, of course, they were all inclined to art in some way; for the more left-brained Sides such as Janus and Logan however, the critique and reasoning behind the art and associated artists compelled them more frequently than the act of creating art, itself. 

“What’s the part about Saturn?” Janus asked with knitted brows, the hand in Remus’ hair going still as he interrupted again after a moment. This question seemed to get Logan going as he shifted in his seat.

“Well, I had assumed from the title that the study would be centered around evidence pertaining to when and where artists were born, alluding to the hypothesis that Saturnian positions and dispositions resulted in a certain type of artistic character,” Logan explained, annoyance bleeding into his tone as he placed the back of his hand on the page he was currently on in a humorless gesture.

“And I take it from your very contented mood that that’s exactly what the book is about,” Janus teased reflexively, taken aback by Logan’s sudden enthusiasm. Perhaps, Janus thought, he hadn’t been so bothered by being stared at and was simply wrestling with his expectations of the text.

“Ha ha,” He laughed dryly; the sound made Janus smirk. “Saturn is, unfortunately,” Logan waved his hand at the book, “Just a metaphor here.”

“A metaphor for what?” Janus pressed gently, giving a final tug of affection to Remus’ hair before retracting his hand; sensing the appendage being stolen, the distracted Creativity leaned to follow the stimulus until it was far out of reach. Janus turned away and sat delicately on the shallow coffee table in front of Logan, who then paused.

He didn’t wonder why Janus was interested in this topic; after all, he thought, philosophy and theoretical debate were right up Janus’ alley. Additionally, they were speaking about metaphors, he rationalized. Logan didn’t need to understand nor regularly use the literary device to know its practical application, particularly to Deceit who always spoke in those encumbering and roundabout ways. What Logan really paused for was a moment of recognition that after years of distant silence, they were embarking on a rather cordial discussion.

“The melancholic,” Logan explained.

“So not the Roman god?”

“Well, yes and no, but for the comparison to make sense, no is easier,” Janus nodded and crossed his legs, listening with intent held in his brows. “It is a tad convoluted but the theory relates to the history of the four humors,” Janus gave a soft, one-noted hum and Logan nodded. “After all, the Greek etymology for the word melancholy is melas, meaning black and kholé meaning bile; black bile, of course--”

“Being one of the four … fluids,” Janus scrunched his nose distastefully, “Associated with the four humors,” He finished his interruption, gesturing with a loose wrist. 

“Exactly,” Logan breathed with a surprised half smile.

“So what does Saturn have to do with black bile?” Janus asked reasonably.

“Well that part goes back to the interpretive study of Astrology,” Janus tilted his head with surprised interest. “Which, despite its dubious plausibility today, played a frequently understated role in the founding of modern science, especially modern psychology.” Logan paused, watching Janus’ face shift subtly in thought. 

“Forgive my relatively ignorant knowledge of Astrology,” Logan nodded permissibly as Janus began to piece the theory together with slow words, “But I guess what you’re saying, or rather, what you expected the book to say, is that artists all suffer from a melancholic disposition?” Logan hummed and shook his head, causing Janus to purse his lips. 

“Again, yes and no. The book is saying that, to some extent.”

“You had just been expecting the evidence to be reliant on literal Saturn rather than...whatever they’re actually using,” Janus tried again and was rewarded with another half smile.

“Are you nerds done yet?” Remus piped up suddenly as Logan opened his mouth to continue. Janus’ head turned and the awareness in his partner’s eyes made his own narrow; how long had he been attentive to their conversation? “I wanna show Lolo what I made.”

“Quite, then,” Janus smiled curtly at Remus who beamed with knowing sarcasm in a way that only Janus would be able to detect. Rat bastard. “Another time,” He promised almost provocatively as a parting to Logan, who looked rather miffed and torn between continuing this unexpectedly stimulating conversation and tending to his boyfriend’s desires.

Janus stood before brushing invisible dirt off himself. “Have a wonderful afternoon, lovebirds,” Janus lilted, fingers wiggling in a goodbye wave as his back disappeared down the hall.

Logan blinked several times before inhaling and turning to Remus, who seemed a few moments more patient and perhaps a little more amused than usual.

- - - - -

Remus’ door having gone unanswered, when music began to softly crackle from the direction of the kitchen, Logan followed it with a vague intrigue. He paused in the entry, blinking at the four black-sleeved and yellow-gloved hands that flitted about the counter spaces. They rifled through the fridge and plucked from the cabinets with a sense of mindlessness from their owner, who stood at the sink. Using his natural two arms, Janus filled various bowls with water as he hummed along to the quiet, bouncy swing song that played from an antique looking gramophone Logan could’ve sworn wasn’t there yesterday. The scene was fascinating, from a scientific point of view; he had never considered how Janus’ many arms worked and seeing them here, stretching out and acting as though they had their own sentience piqued his interest immensely. 

For long moments, Logan watched silently before the arms retracted, bringing various items back to the workspace closest to Janus. Packets of gelatin, food coloring -- Logan squinted from his position; corn syrup? The answer to a question he hadn’t asked made itself apparent as he recalled a few various tidbits Remus had given him about his partner. Logan cleared his throat to get Janus’ attention, satisfied with his distant examinations.

“Oh,” The baker turned around, excess arms disappearing inside him with a flourish as they completed their purpose of fetching. “Logan, good morning,” Janus greeted in a sunny tone, though confusion hinted in his eyes.

“Good morning,” He returned, taking conservative steps into the kitchen. He nodded at the gelatin packets. “So this is the gelatin art Remus talks about,” Logan observed without question.

“Remus talks about it?” Janus asked, reserved happiness in his distracted tone as he stepped from the sink to the counter and began measuring out tablespoons of corn syrup.

“Frequently,” Logan confirmed, crossing his arms casually. The conversation came to a peaceful lull as Janus began to stir the syrup and water. Concluding that, he turned and took steps that placed him closer than usual to the other.

“What does he say?” Janus asked like a teen greedy for rumors, giving a sly glance from under his lashes as he paused. The moment lingered as he reached around Logan for the gelatin packets he stood in front of, meeting his eyes all the while. Suddenly, Logan couldn’t remember a single thing Remus had ever said. The tips of his ears reddened with a blush that creeped up the back of his neck. He swallowed against the dryness of his throat.

“Just that you enjoy making gelatin,” Logan responded after Janus had made his way back to the counter, his posture feeling as stiff and unnatural as his answer. He could see the disappointment in the way Janus’ lips pursed as he began dumping the neutral colored gelatin into the solution.

“Is that so.”

“Yes,” Logan cleared his throat and again felt that his response was lame. It made the air between them go stale. How did Remus manage to speak with Janus so casually and with so much enthusiasm? Of course, he wouldn't be Remus without an absence of shame, but still; Logan found himself envying the fact. 

He was appreciative of the cheerful music that eased the awkwardness. Also that Janus didn’t seem to mind how apparently awful he was at idle conversations despite his desire to engage in them. After a few moments, Janus went back to humming as he repeated the task of pouring gelatin into the bowls and discarding the packets. As the heat in his face receded, Logan recalled more of Remus’ words over the time they had been dating. 

He always spoke very highly of his partner, which was to be expected. Janus was graceful, patient, and, quote, ridiculously smart. Despite taking everything Remus had to say with mounded tablespoons of realism flavored salt, examining Janus now and through the lens of their recent interactions, Logan would have to agree. 

“He has an awful habit,” Janus revived the conversation as one song faded into the next. He turned and leaned back against the counter; as he spoke, he slowly began turning the knob of a manual can opener against a can of condensed milk. “Of eating various inedible things,” Janus scrunched his nose and Logan exhaled. “You won’t believe the things he’s consumed over the years.”

“That’s why you make the gelatin, correct?” Logan asked, hoping this time his phrasing opened up the possibility for more elaboration.

“Mhm,” Janus hummed with a shallow nod and twisted the lid off before throwing it in the trash as well. He turned and stirred the thickened milk into the largest bowl of water and corn syrup. Discomfort washed over Logan once more as he began to realize the conversation had died again. His head fell but soon snapped up as Janus thankfully continued after a moment.

“Of course it doesn’t negate the problem entirely,” His tone was less annoyed than Logan would’ve thought. Though there was plenty of quiet frustration, mostly he sounded concerned and tired. “But I like to imagine it helps some at least.” 

“I think it helps more than you realize,” Logan offered slowly in a tone that was sure of itself despite the confusion in his brow. Did Janus not realize his instrumental intervention?

Remus never really shut up about how much he appreciated Janus. The various ways Janus managed him and his mental health over their lifetime together, how effortless Janus made it all look; Logan had to admit, hearing about it constantly was rather intimidating, especially at the beginning of their relationship. He had high expectations to meet if everything Remus said was true, and like he thought before, it was beginning to look that way as Logan got to know Janus for himself. Remus talked a fair amount about how much he appreciated Logan as well though, so he never did have much of a chance to get demoralized about it. Even so, gauging the dynamic between Janus and Remus without his interference was a bit startling as everything came into focus.

They flowed together easily; in the interactions Logan had witnessed, their affection always had a sense of routine and familiarity, but not in the stale way that felt boring after years of repetition. Perhaps, Logan began to think, it had clouded his view a bit and prevented him from questioning if Remus ever expressed his gratitude to Janus, directly. The likelihood that he didn’t seemed infinitesimal, and yet the doubt was still clear in Janus’ words. Was it that he didn’t believe Remus then?

Janus cautioned a look at Logan from over his shoulder, surprise and then confusion flashed across his features; exactly how much did Remus talk about him? He didn’t mind being complimented of course, he adored praise, but something about the idea of Remus jumping into a new relationship only to gush about him constantly didn’t sit right with him. Especially if that person was Logan. Who knew how Logan felt after all this time? Janus scrunched his nose and tossed the now empty can with a sense of distaste.

“I suppose he talks about me too much if you think that,” His tone was apologetic as he gave the mixture a final stir before turning to meet Logan’s eyes with a flashy smile. “Enough about all that though; would you like to help?”

Logan blinked, his mind catching up to the topic dismissal. “Help?” He repeated automatically before realizing what Janus meant. “Oh. No,” He unfolded his arms to wave a hand, shaking his head. “I’m not one for baking, I’ll just get in the way.”

“Nonsense,” Janus insisted, reaching forward to gently steal Logan by his sleeve. “If you need more motivation than just my requesting, think about how thrilled Remus will surely be knowing you had a hand in this batch.”

Logan let himself be pulled towards the workstation, not having it in him to refuse Janus’ smile and persistence more than once.

“I suppose you have a point,” He conceded with a sigh and Janus clapped his hands together quietly.

“Splendid,” he plucked the box of food coloring from the counter and pushed the dark blue dropper into Logan’s hands. “This is the easy part anyway. I trust you completely.”

Somehow, the implication of Janus trusting him made him pause, feeling his chest going warm. Logan stared down at the small bottle in his hands, feeling even more clueless now being involved than he had simply watching Janus; but Janus still trusted him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that Janus was trusting him on reputation alone, something the others consistently seem to find inconceivable. Not often was Logan trusted so explicitly, which was concerning to say the least, but function aside, the sentiment filled him with unexpected happiness. 

“Just get this,” Janus tapped one of bowls filled with water, corn syrup, and gelatin, “As close to this shade,” He then pointed to the blue swirl part of the Tide Pod resting between the various ingredients, “As you can get,” Janus finished with another disarming smile. Forcing himself to look away, Logan thought that at the rate Janus used that sort of charm on him like that, he’d never remember anything ever again.

“Okay,” He asserted slowly with a nod and unscrewed the small bottle. As he set to dropping small amounts of the dye before stirring and comparing the colors, Janus seemed to be doing the same with a shade of bright orange. “I suppose that’s good,” Logan ascertained after a few silent moments, holding the clear bowl up to his face for closer inspection.

“Flawless, I would say,” Janus complimented, completing his own color a second later. “Next,” He said slowly and reached to gather several of one kind of item that Logan didn’t immediately recognize, “We set the molds,” Janus explained as he neatly lined about a dozen purple, palm sized squares between them. Logan uttered a small, ah, in understanding.

He scanned the counter for a tool that would be useful here; the idea of pouring the liquid straight into the molds seemed rather silly and messy. If this were Patton, Logan wouldn’t put it past him, but Janus was far more structured, far more sensible.

“Should we use those?” Logan asked, reaching for the rather thick gauge baking syringes set to the side as Janus opened the molds to reveal a swirl shape identical to the signature Tide Pod.

“A step ahead of me,” Janus lilted with a nod, raising his eyes just enough to spot the syringes he planned on retrieving next. “Go on then,” He pointed his chin at the gelatin, reaching over Logan for a needle of his own. “I trust it’s fairly self explanatory for you.”

And it was; the entire procedure wasn’t particularly challenging, as long as Janus wasn’t smiling at him or charming him out of his brain cells. Logan drew up about half the syringe’s barrel and then held one half of the mold in his palm. Comparing it to the Tide Pod, he began to gently squeeze the blue solution along half of the swirl pattern, dragging it across the material for an even consistency. Janus smiled to himself, watching from the corner of his eye and began to do the same with his own orange gelatin, working from the opposite end of the line. 

“When it comes to the ones already filled,” Janus began as they approached meeting in the middle, though before he could finish, Logan interrupted knowingly.

“I suppose I should avoid picking the mold up so as to not disrupt the other side,” He guessed and positioned his syringe at a different angle, experimenting with how he should go about it now before settling on a method.

“Precisely,” Janus delighted quietly, moving behind Logan and out of his way to fill in the orange sides of the already completed blue ones. “Typically,” He continued as they settled back into a rhythm, “I just do both colors at once, holding it as you had started,” Janus glanced out of the corner of his eye; Logan looked so concentrated, it was impossible not to find the focus in his eyes adorable. For a brief moment, before Janus continued, Logan began to worry that he was getting in the way as he feared. If Janus had a certain way of doing this and he was doing it wrong, comparatively, then it was just as he thought; that he shouldn’t have gotten involved. 

“But I don’t quite mind this either,” Janus finished softly and Logan exhaled the breath he didn’t realize was being held. As the silence began to press on, he started to wish he could figure out something to say to Janus’ kindness. Then he wondered if this was how Remus often felt.

As Janus took Logan’s empty syringe and quickly rinsed both of theirs in the sink, he explained their next and final step before they would be placed in the fridge until completion. Sealing the molds with their domed, other half, they would repeat the filling action with the condensed milk and gelatin mixture.

“Simple enough,” Logan said as he accepted the syringe that Janus handed him with a smile. This time, Logan offered his own small expression before the two set to work. After a few silent moments, he continued with a rather impulsive question. “Does Remus ever help you with this?” Surely he did; in the same way Logan found it impossible that Remus never expressed his gratitude to Janus, he couldn’t fathom that the two didn’t enjoy this together.

“Oh, no, never,” Janus answered immediately with an appalled tone. Logan blinked, his hand going still as he again reevaluated how he perceived their relationship. “The first and only time I tried to get him to help,” He continued, his own hands pausing to stare wide eyed and offended at Logan, “He ate three of my molds!”

Logan couldn’t help the small smile that curved his lips, though he tried to dismiss it quickly by pursing them and looking away. The distress Janus clearly felt for something so simple was … a bit bewildering, but also very him, Logan decided. He got the sense that Remus would love to help, if he could, but that he had the habit of ruining Janus’ things in the process. With a heavy sigh, Janus went back to filling the molds and when Logan could keep the smile out of his voice, he continued.

“The other day he brought a few rocks from the Imagination to my room and asked what they were. He does that,” Logan glanced at Janus, “Stops by and asks questions like that, but when I located my geology kit, the first thing he did,” Logan smiled again, fondness creeping into his tone despite himself, “Was tear the handbook pages in excitement,” Janus clicked his tongue and shook his head, empathizing with the tragedy, but Logan continued, gesturing in small ways now. “It was completely illegible,” Logan paused, recalling the fear in Remus’ expression as he apologized profusely, handing the torn book back by the tips of his fingers. 

“Was?” Janus prompted quietly, watching Logan’s faintly passionate storytelling from the corner of his eye.

“At least for its intended use as a portable guide. If you pushed the papers together, you could piece the sentences but,” Logan paused again and shook his head, “He insisted on writing it, all of it. He took one of my notebooks right there and stared down at the little book and wrote everything he could make out,” Logan laughed dryly and resumed filling the mold he had stopped on. “I bet he has the entire handbook memorized now.”

“He adores you very much then,” Janus said without reservation, without even looking away from the molds. The conclusion caught Logan off guard and silence persisted as he waited for Janus to elaborate; but no such continuation came. Again Logan found himself holding his breath, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know that Remus loved him. He said it at least ten times a day. It just felt very different coming from someone who’s known Remus for so long, Logan guessed. It’s different when someone else can see love that easily.

“I know,” Logan whispered sentimentally after a while, and wondered in the enduring silence of their work if he should’ve said that Remus loved Janus very much, too.

- - - - -

Janus paused on the bottom step of the Dark Side stairs as he spotted Logan, bent slightly at the waist and jotting something down on a rather large stack of white paper. The astringent smell of Sharpies was unavoidable. While it certainly wasn’t new at this point for Logan to be found here on a casual basis, it was a bit strange that Remus wasn’t in the immediate area.

“Hello, Logan,” Janus greeted in a smiling tone as he continued into the room and approached the workspace that was their dining table. 

“Hello,” He returned the friendly gesture without tearing his eyes away or stopping his hand from drawing a simplistic symbol in one of the dated squares.

“What brings you here without your typical consort?” Now peering over Logan’s shoulder, Janus realized it wasn’t just any stack of paper he was writing on, but a wall calendar.

“Remus just went to the bathroom. He’ll probably be back in a few moments.”

Janus made a soft sound of understanding and continued to watch. Capping the silvery marker he had been using, Logan switched it out for a dark blue one. Intrigue growing, Janus observed as he neatly drew an open circle, then some complex looking arrow shape beside it. Next Logan drew an odd arch shape on the other side of the square beside another open circle, this one with a dot in the center. Then two smaller circles diagonal from each other connected with a single line. Finally, next to that symbol, he drew a half crescent moon. Janus’ brows furrowed delicately. 

“Logan, dear?” 

“Hm?”

“What on Earth are you doing?”

Logan blinked and paused before slowly standing from his leaning position. He … didn’t really know where to begin. Talking about his hobby with Remus was one thing; while his boyfriend readily listened to his enthusing and had even offered his artistic expertise in ‘livening up’ the calendar today, the idea of explaining it to Janus felt like a different beast altogether. Why was that? Logan observed his feelings on the matter, staring down at the calendar. The writing there was neither impressive nor sloppy, but a typical middle ground of insignificantly informative, in his opinion. Mindlessly, he brought the marker up to his chest and capped it with a decisive click. His stomach became uneasy imagining himself divulging eagerly, about anything, to Janus. Why was that?

“I’m,” Indulging in a pseudoscience? Partaking in something that is unreliable and interpretive at best? Having an indemonstrable belief system? Being less than serious? Logan turned to face Janus, his arms falling to his sides. “Calculating planetary positions and hypothesizing on their potential,” Spiritual? Emotional? “Financial, political, and interpersonal ramifications,” Logan’s heart raced. He counted the beats. One, two, three, fourfivesixseveneight--

“I see,” Janus said reflexively but then paused to digest the sentence. It sounded interesting enough to him; foresight was high on his list of well regarded practices. Whatever helped in that pursuit, Janus found at least a little compelling. Though he cocked his head slightly and gave Logan a once over. Was he acting rather … defensive? There was no lie in his words, Janus would’ve immediately known after all, but he got the sense that he wasn’t being painted the full picture here. 

A bead of sweat dripped down the back of Logan’s collar. Janus wasn’t looking at him in any specific way, there wasn’t anything interrogative about the silence, in fact Janus’ expression was rather polite. Logan had noticed at some point that Janus looked at him more like an equal than any of the other accepted Sides. In return, he had come to trust the intrigue frequently found in his expressions. And yet he was anxious. Why? Historically, talking to Janus had never made him nervous before, sharing in pastimes together hadn’t either, so … why did he feel like sinking through the soles of his shoes and never speaking about this, ever again?

“Well,” Janus broke the silence with his entertained tone. “You were always into space and such, I shouldn’t be surprised.” 

Logan inhaled through his nose, more suddenly than he meant to, and realized only now there was a tension in his hands as they twitched to relax. Janus didn’t see anything wrong with his description of the hobby, but the fact was that he didn’t know the whole story. Logan’s explanation was, of course, accurate; accurate enough to not count as a lie, but Janus’ suspicion was warranted. A suspicion that was much closer to curiosity than Logan realized in his paranoid attempt to seem and sound more serious than necessary.

“Yes,” He mumbled and turned back around to the calendar. Janus watched with narrowed eyes as Logan placed the marker back with the rest, seeming to have a particular order that they belonged in. After a pause, he diverted his attention to the open, beige colored notebook on the other side of the table. Logan began to lightly drag a finger along the bottom of a written line of symbols there. Janus could only assume he was committing their exact meaning to memory in a way only someone like Logan could.

“So tell me,” Janus interrupted again as he elegantly sat himself down at the table opposite Logan, whose train of thought halted abruptly. “What do those symbols mean?” Janus asked, cradling his cheek in his palm as he reached the other hand to point at the five dark blue markings Logan had made. Logan swallowed and blinked slowly, bracing himself. There was no way he made it out of this conversation with Janus’ opinion of him remaining positive.

Keeping his tone as neutral as possible, Logan then dragged his finger along each symbol as it was defined, meeting Janus’ inquisitive eyes with his own hesitant gaze.

“Full moon,” Open circle, “Sagittarius,” arrow. Logan directed his finger to the other side of the square, dictating that those two symbols didn’t correlate in a direct sense to the next three. “Gemini,” He continued, pointing to the odd arch shape, “Sun,” dotted open circle, “Opposition,” the two smaller circles connected by the thin line, “Moon,” Logan finished at the half crescent moon shape.

A puzzled look flashed across Janus’ face before the words connected like a puzzle, forming a sentence he understood theoretically but in no literal way; full moon in Sagittarius, Gemini sun, opposition moon … which was in Sagittarius then? Janus could only guess. These were phrases he’s heard before, of course, but Logan said them in a way that felt far more significant than any well-rated horoscope app had.

Logan let Janus ruminate on his explanation, hoping no more questions came at the detriment of his reputation. Again he started to consult his notebook, but it was only a few moments before Janus spoke again.

“So … what’s the significance of … all that?” He asked and Logan’s mind raced in the same way Remus, Roman, and Virgil could speak at a mile a minute.

“The significance,” Logan began after what felt like much longer than a moment of struggling to quiet his mind, “Is as I said; potential financial, political, and interpersonal ramifications,” He completed in a mumble before clearing his throat, unable to meet Janus’ eyes anymore, causing the latter to frown.

The fact that Logan was growing increasingly uncomfortable wasn’t lost on Janus, of course. He watched the gears churning in Logan’s mind as mental gymnastics were performed. It wasn’t a secret to Denial why he felt discontented currently; being taken seriously was paramount to this Side and everyone had a long history of finding Logic to be a joke. After years of being dismissed without advocacy, Janus could only hope to display a patience and interest deep enough for Logan to find himself comfortable in his presence again.

“As you said,” Janus agreed, dismissing that superficial statement. “But what about that one, specifically? It’s in blue so I assume it has some significance.”

Logan’s lips tightened; where did he even begin? Explaining the correspondence between phenomena and full moons? Diving into Jupiter’s mythology and Sagittarius’ significance to Thomas, personally, as his moon ruler? The unease in his stomach shifted up his throat.

“Oh hey, Dee!” Remus suddenly interrupted as he returned from down the hall. If Logan were a man of lesser self control, he may have jumped right out of his skin.

They both turned to blink at the entrance, Logan a second too late as Remus dotted an affectionate kiss to his cheek. Rigidly, he gave a half-lipped smile to the gesture.

“Lolo telling you about his nerdy Astrology stuff?” Remus plopped himself into a chair between them at the table.

“Just a little,” Janus said as he sat back and crossed his legs.  

“Booooo,” Remus cheered, giving Logan a thumbs down before grinning. He leaned over to peer at the dark blue symbols that were drawn while he was away. “Full moon in Sagittarius,” Remus read like he was fluent in this second language Janus had only just learned the existence of. “And uh,” He paused, cocked his head in order to read the markings easier, “Gemini sun, uh, what’s that one again, Lolo?” Remus pointed at the connected, diagonal circles. 

Janus narrowed his eyes. He got the sense that Remus could easily say what that sign meant, but had asked Logan in order to hear him talk about it. How sweet.

“Opposition,” Logan repeated like a sigh as he reached to scratch the back of his neck. “Since the sun is in Gemini for most of this month, it will be opposing the moon’s position in Sagittarius that day.”

“Does that spell trouble for Tommyboy?” Remus asked mischievously, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on the unused seat behind Logan.

“On the contrary,” Logan responded, opening his mouth to continue but then quickly closing it as the corner of his vision registered Janus again. 

The frown on Janus’ lips grew deeper as he silently observed the two. It seemed to come down to him and his effects on Logan’s nerves; the assumption that he would dismiss him like Patton, Roman, and Thomas, or say that he was wrong like Virgil.

“Please,” Janus urged in his most genuine tone as he held up his hands like a white flag. “Pretend I’m not here, do carry on.”

Logan inhaled slowly and seemed to take his time believing that sentiment. Another mental stalemate began; Logan wrestled with the expectations he held himself to, the assumed expectations Janus had of him, and the misconception that his hobby would be seen as silly or less than in any way. The silence dragged on until Remus broke the tension once more.

“Yeah, c’mon Lolo. Dee listens to me rant about stupid shit all the time. He’s got the patience of a Saint, I swear,” Remus smirked at Janus, who then reached out to pull affectionately on his partner’s ear.

“Like I have a choice with you,” Janus mumbled fondly, lacing his voice with thick sarcasm. 

Quickly, Remus turned his head like a baited shark and bit after Janus’ hand as it was retracted, narrowly missing the appendages with his teeth. Janus rolled his eyes and Remus beamed before shifting in his seat and staring up at Logan expectantly.

Logan’s chest burned with some unfamiliar feeling as he watched the clearly loving display. Naming emotions certainly wasn’t his strong suit, but whatever it was tightened his throat and made swallowing difficult. As usual for him, the feeling was quickly pushed away.

Which caused it to land directly into Denial’s jurisdiction. Janus had long perfected the art of remaining stoic in the face of blindsiding emotions that weren’t his own; which of course included now, as the denial of jealousy swiftly punched him in the stomach. Janus’ breathing stopped as he waited for the familiar pang of envy to subside, knowing by instinct that the originator stood before him.

“I suppose,” Logan continued after a moment before clearing his throat. “It is on the contrary that Thomas will be experiencing anything negative on this day or the two previous days leading up to this full moon,” He reached to flip a page in his notebook, revealing a neatly drawn chart of dates and signs. His finger rested decisively next to three in particular. “The moon will be in Sagittarius, opposing the current sun sign; Gemini. This is particularly good for Thomas since he has a natal Sagittarius moon.”

“Laaaaaame,” Remus exaggerated belligerently. Having been through this before, Logan gave a renewed half smile, knowing Remus only found Thomas’ lack of misfortune ‘lame’ and not the inherency of his explanation.

Janus exhaled finally as the emotional turmoil in his stomach subsided with Logan’s contentment. His chin raised curiously, eyeing the revealed page. This all sounded fascinating. He got the feeling that there was so much more to this topic, and that he would be very willing and rather eager to listen to it all as long as it was coming from Logan.

“Tell me, Lolo,” Remus said in a dark voice, frantically leaning forward, splaying his palms on the table and disregarding the way his quick movement made Logan’s markers roll away. “Do your charts and shit say when he’ll die?”

“No,” Logan sighed and rolled his eyes. The air turned sweet and Janus’ brows raised despite himself. “Even if they did, I wouldn’t tell you. It’d be incredibly subjective anyway,” Logan gestured dismissively and turned away, catching sight of Janus’ intrigued smirk. The expression made him gulp. “It’s all incredibly subjective,” He continued, now in a mumble as he went to close his notebook. 

Hastily, Logan began to gather the haphazard markers like he planned on packing his project away for the day. Lie and jealousy aside, Janus found himself invested.

“Well,” He began as Logan took a step back from the table to stare at the floor, seeming to have lost a marker in Remus’ chaos. “I thought it was all rather … enchanting,” Janus flirted unashamedly, producing the green hued utensil between his fingers with a curled smile. Logan blinked, the tips of his ears going red. “You’ll tell me more sometime?” Janus insisted, turning the thing in his grip and offering it more pointedly.

Logan swallowed and reached to quickly pluck the object from Janus’ fingers. 

“Sure,” He sighed, suddenly feeling like he had agreed to something rather damning.

“Delightful.”