#ts lucas

Heart-Shaped Cookies

Mo

Protection at Night

Experiments

Movie Night

Janus

Paying the Price

We're All Stories in the Beginning

After We Touch

Curiosity Killed the Cat

And Satisfaction Brought Him Back

Out of the Closet

Protection and Vigilance

Happy Anniversary, Lee and Mary Lee!

A Stolen Bit of Softness

Smells Like…

Deceit and Paranoia

Wash Day

Preparing to Put Others First

When All You Have Left is Rage

And the Oscar Goes to…

Catharsis

Paint it Red

What Goes Bump-Crack in the Night

Confronting the Truth

I Lied to You

📣 Shout Outs!

Please check out the art and stories of @starsinger, the amazing artist I worked with on this project. His art is featured in Chapters 2 and 7.

And a special shout out and extra thanks to the beta readers who helped with this monster of a story, @thewickedcompanion, who read an early draft (remember when this beast was barely 25k?), @typically-untypical, who encouraged me when I'd feared I'd written nothing but drivel, @fullrainbowallthetime for some super valuable feedback, and two anonymous and talented beta readers, Red Pen Satan and The Duckling with a Knife.

Preview link view… go check out Starsinger's work!

Lips so often drawn into a tight, thin line or—increasingly—a trembling frown, now puffed out, pink and oh-so-slightly parting with each exhalation. Brow unfurrowed and lids smooth, Logan's big eyes flicked gently from side to side; the dance of a pleasant dream. No longer hidden behind thick black frames, Logan's lashes kissed the still-barely shadowed skin beneath his eyes; soft, sculpted cheekbones arched over his square jaw, uncommonly, blessedly unclenched.

How long had it been since Janus had seen Logan so relaxed? Years?

Too long, certainly.

As if in agreement, Logan's eyebrows twitched beneath a fallen lock of hair. Carefully, Janus brushed it back, just barely stifling a gasp at his hair's softness. With his hair always so prim and proper, neatly combed back and away from his face, Janus had always assumed Logan's liberal use of some sort of product, a shellac or wax or spray he'd summoned from Thomas' memories.

Janus bit back a chuckle even as his fingers danced along the edges of Logan's hair. No, it appeared, as with all other parts of himself, Logan kept each strand in place through sheer force of will and discipline.

Now, in sleep, his hair fell haphazardly across his forehead, free and lovely.

Silk between Janus' fingers.

Logan shifted and Janus froze, hand mid-stroke. But Logan merely sighed, a half-smile curling up his lips. Another lock of hair spilled over his ear and Janus slowly, diligently, tucked it back into place.

Again, though, his fingers lingered, basking in the soft warmth pouring off Logan's temple, along his hairline, the curve of his neck.

Gradually, Janus lowered his hand until it rested on Logan's shoulder, forearm draped over his. The rest of Logan's arm disappeared between the bed and Janus' back, tucked firmly beneath him, even in sleep.

They lay like that as the Mindscape's sunrise slowly bled through the slits in Janus' blinds and Janus' alarm began its quiet chime.

Soft, less insistent than it usually sounded, it was like the alarm itself was muffled by the peace of Logan's sleep, the calm of their shared repose. Given the strangeness of his own room, Janus' imagining that the alarm itself was reluctant to disturb Logan's much-needed rest did not seem all that impossible.

Eventually, Logan's breathing changed, a deep inhalation followed by a low groan, muffled by Janus' pajama top. Logan shifted, eyes slowly blinking open until they snapped open with a start.

"Janus!" he gasped—croaked, really. Rough with sleep and pitched even lower than usual, Logan's voice rumbled in his chest, vibrations shooting right through Janus' body beneath it. "I… I apologize. I did n—" He started to pull away and Janus reached for him before he could move too quickly.

"No apologies needed… or desired, Logan."

Logan stilled, eyes flicking around the room. Janus could practically see the gears turning in his mind, recalling their conversation from last night. "I shou—Shou—"

Janus watched that worried wrinkle press itself between Logan's eyebrows as the room held back his less-than-honest words.

"I believe I should get up," he finally finished. A glorious spark of pride glimmered behind his eyes at his little honesty workaround. "Don't you agree?"

Janus smiled but didn't make a move to get up. "Only if you wish to." He waved a hand in the direction of the soft strings playing from his clock, then returned it to its place resting in the middle of Logan's back. "Even my alarm seems loathe to force up before you are ready."

Logan squinted in the direction of the alarm clock and Janus plucked up Logan's glasses. Before Logan could move, Janus tucked them carefully into place.

"Thank you," he murmured and shifted to face the alarm. Cheek pressed against Janus' thick flannel top, the mystery had supplanted his instinct to rise. "I do not understand," he said after a moment, turning back and meeting Janus' eyes.

"My typical morning alarm is considerably more… grating. It ensures I am not tempted to linger in the comfort of my bed past when I need to wake." He shrugged, fingers flexing against the blanket draped over both of them.

The electric coils were still warm.

"Your room changes to accommodate your needs?"

"Doesn't yours? The extra soundproofing when you work?" Janus pressed down the smirk trying to force its way onto his face. Ensconced in the thick, soundless space, Remus had spent an hour shouting and pounding out in the hall, trying his damnedest to draw the Logical Side out for that video until finally he ambushed him in the kitchen. "Research materials appearing when you need them? Paper and—"

"The book," Logan finished. He lifted his head just enough to scan the room and his gaze landed on the copy of Einstein's Dream still sitting beside Janus' chair.

"But I ended up reading your book," he said.

Janus smiled. "And did you enjoy it?"

"Immensely," he blurted out, turning back to fully face him.

It seemed Logan was just as reluctant to separate but Janus swallowed that particular observation and nodding, listened.

"There was a poem, Absence… " Logan paused, searching for words with a little frown, but then he closed his eyes and repeated with perfect accuracy,

'My love, we have found each other thirsty and we have drunk up all the water and the blood, we found each other hungry and we bit each other as fire bites leaving wounds in us'

"You'd marked it. Is that you feel about—"

Logan flinched when a dull scrape against the other side of the door interrupted him.

"Shhh!" Lucas' voice hissed from the hall. "You'll wake up the warden, Pup."

"He should be awake!" Remus' cranky morning voice was pitched an octave too low. "Don't care if he has company."

Still curled over Janus chest, Logan stiffened, breath held. Janus hummed softly, an almost purr, and drew his arm a little firmer over Logan's back. "You're safe," he murmured.

Remus continued to kvetch on the other side of the door. "I'm hungry and I need coffee and you took my deodorant away."

The fear painted on Logan's face shifted into… recognition.

Janus couldn't resist leaning closer to whisper by his ear, "Sounds just like Roman, doesn't he?" Logan huffed, an almost laugh.

"And I'm not a pup." Remus' pout was audible. "I'm a hellhound."

Lucas' laughed, low and happy and muffled. "You're my hellhound."

"Ruff, ruff."

"Good boy."

Remus sniffed the air, loudly huffing at the edges of Janus' door. "I can smell his company." There was a scuffle and Remus' voice was quieter. "He's got the Nerd in there."

"How can you—Well…" Lucas sighed. "Listen, pup, if you can make it downstairs without dragging that thing against the walls, you might even earn back a treat."

"You sweet-talker, you."

Logan's eyes followed their retreat down the hall.

"If you're feeling ready, we can join them for breakfast," Janus offered. Logan's stomach grumbled, but he only stared, like at any moment Remus might smash through the wall with his morningstar.

"Or I could bring you something to eat," Janus tried again. "You could stay here."

Logan eyed the door and Janus' hand twitched—the urge to stroke away the worry creasing his brow, to tug away the lip snagged between his teeth nearly overwhelming.

And completely inappropriate.

"No-one can enter this room without my permission."

Logan finally faced him.

"You're safe here."

Face a riot of thoughts and flickers of quickly suppressed emotions, Logan looked down where his fingers still clung to Janus' pajamas. Slowly, he relaxed his grip and drew in a metered breath. "They both know I'm here. I… I don't suppose I can delay the inevitable forever."

"A tautology," Janus chuckled. "Very safe statement in this room. Touché."

Logan's face glowed, soft pink rising up on his cheeks and all the way to the tips of his ears as he looked away. "Under other circumstances, I would think you were poking fun at me, however…"

"However you may be experiencing some of the positives of this room, hmm?"

"Indeed." Leaning to one side, Logan pulled his arm free and pushed to sit.

Like he was tied to him by a string, Janus followed his movement, then forced his legs to swing over the other side of his bed. "Let's prepare to meet this day, then."

~

With Logan dressing in the ensuite, Janus dressed quickly in his room. He lingered over making his bed, though, slow to tidy and smooth away the evidence of Logan's presence the previous night; the untucked corner, the way he'd scrunched the pillow on one side.

Janus waved away their tea cups but left the books where they sat.

Surely by the time night fell, they would have gotten all this sorted and Logan would read his own books tonight. Sleep in his own bed. But Janus' truth whispered to him in the empty room.

And even he couldn't pretend he didn't hope Logan might stay longer.

The door to the ensuite cracked open and Janus dragged his mind away from his musing. "All clear," he called quietly and Logan stepped inside, clad once again in his neatly pressed jeans and polo, tie perfectly knotted. Shoulders curled in, one arm hugged Janus' pajamas to his chest. The other alternated between hanging stiff at his side. And wrapping tight around his belly.

Janus smiled and accepted the pajamas. "Feel better to be back in your own clothes?"

"No." Logan's hand came up to cover his own mouth, eyes wide in horror at the too-honest answer. He shivered and looked away.

"I believe I may have a solution for that." Janus moved quickly to his closet, noting the disappointment flash across Logan's face when he didn't return the pajamas. Instead, he pulled out a thick black cardigan from the back of his closet and presented it to Logan. "Would you like to see how this fits?"

Face scrunched, Logan took the sweater. "We are all the same size, we, share a metaphysical form and—"

"Just put it on, Logan," Janus laughed.

To his surprise, Logan let out a little chuckle. "Thank you," he said, stroking the fluffy knit. He pushed one arm through and let out a low sigh as the black knit enveloped him.

Janus pretended not to notice the way he subtly sniffed at the fabric. Nor the way whatever he smelled made his lips curl up in a brighter smile. Logan hugged the sweater around himself before buttoning it and Janus reached out to tap where the collar nicely framed his tie.

"Better?" he asked again.

"Much," Logan answered quickly, cheeks reddening.

One hand on each shoulder, Janus carefully turned him so he could see his own reflection above Janus' dresser. "Your truth doesn't need to embarrass you, Logan." He winked when their eyes met in the mirror. "Certainly not in here."

~

After one last check of his reflection, Logan waited while Janus donned his gloves and hat. Together they listened when he carefully cracked open the door.

Dishes rattled downstairs, punctuated by a steady thunk-thunk-thunk. Janus sighed and, shaking his head, beckoned Logan to follow him out in the hall.

"That doesn't sound good," he murmured close to Janus' ear. In the chill of the hall, his breath was warm against Janus' skin. Welcome.

Janus shook his head again. "It's not." Then he gave Logan as reassuring of a smile as he could manage. "But I've heard worse."

The thunking stopped and heavy boots pounded up the stairs. Arms out and crook in his hand, Janus moved between Logan and the top of the staircase just as a familiar grey-streaked head popped into view. "You two finally done doing the nasty?" Remus grinned, too-wide eyes taking in Janus' protective stance. And Logan's sweater.

"Re, what're you—" Just behind him, Lucas stopped short.

"Told ya he had company," Remus taunted, shifting his morningstar from one shoulder to the other.

Lucas peered over Remus' shoulder and flicked away the spiky end. "Well, fuck. You were right."

"So how was it?" Remus laughed, sauntering up the final few steps.

"Remus…" Janus loosely fisted his hand, a tug on the leash.

"Rude," he sucked his teeth, forcing the word out. Remus stared back, defiant. "You didn't invite us to watch."

"Re," Lucas began, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, me to watch. We always—"

Lucas' voice came out in a growl. "Re!"

"Fine!" He laughed, one hand pressed to his heart in an uncanny impression of his brother. "I always invite you, Jannie. Somebody around here's got manners." He licked his lips and let his eyes trail up and down Logan's body. "So did you get railed last night or did Jannie take it like a champ?"

"I didn't just fuck Lo—" "That's none of your—"

They each fell silent and Janus' ears buzzed with the differences in their responses. He kept his crook raised high between the dynamic duo and Logan, one hand ready to silence Remus if he started in on him again.

"Yeah, I coulda told you that," Lucas shrugged. "You're both entirely too pissed to have freshly fucked." He looped one arm around Remus' waist. Holding him back or claiming him, Janus couldn't tell.

"Oh, well, if that's the case," Remus shimmied his shoulders and disappeared, popping up again just behind Logan.

To his credit, Logan barely flinched.

"If Big D doesn't do it for ya, I'd be happy to take anything you had to offer."

"Re!" "Remus!"

Lucas and Janus whipped around, crook raised and orange fire crackling between Lucas' fingers.

But Logan's response stilled them. "Doubtful." He adjusted his glasses and turned to face Remus, back ram-rod straight. "I am uncertain you could properly receive all I have to offer."

"Woo-wee, Logan!" Remus cackled as Lucas stomped forward and grabbed him by the back of the neck. "Didn't know you had it in you. Well—" He laughed, eyes darting over to Lucas. "Well, that I coulda had in me? Pretty please, Lukey? With Logan on top?"

"No!" Lucas and Logan said together.

"Well, poopy," he pouted, again looking more like his brother than the big bad scary Intrusive Thoughts of Thomas' psyche.

He inched closer to Logan. "Can't hurt to ask."

"It can if you keep it up," Lucas glowered.

"Oh, you promise?" He clapped his hands together as Lucas dragged him away from Logan's side.

Lucas growled but even Logan seemed to note how carefully he gripped Remus. "I might but it's not much of a punishment when you just enjoy it."

Remus beamed like he'd been given a prize. "I do, don't I?" Wiggling free of Lucas' admittedly lax grip, he faced him, lips pursed and leaning in for a kiss.

Orange flames extinguished, Lucas carded his hand through Remus' hair and kissed him softly.

Logan watched them for a moment, expression smooth and unreadable. Guarded. He tugged Janus' sweater a little tighter around himself and eventually looked away.

Finally, Lucas gave them a little wave and led Remus back to his room. Logan then turned to him, a riot of emotions hiding behind his eyes. "You said there might be coffee?"

Dismissing Lucas—and Remus—with a nod, Janus smiled back at him. "Right this way."

Even after Lucas' bedroom door slammed shut, Logan remained quiet as they made their way downstairs to the kitchen. The counter was barely visible beneath teetering stacks of sticky mixing bowls and kitchen gadgets and the sink was filled past the faucet with crud-crusted pots and pans.

Biting back a growl at the state of things, Janus swept the lot of it into the dishwasher and set it for a pre-wash.

"It will be easier to deal with after that," he muttered to Logan, who was already nodding.

"I do the same after one of Roman's 'artistic' dinner nights," he said, rummaging around under the sink. "Just be sure to set it to—"

"No heat?"

"Patton's pancakes." Logan chuckled and rose, clutching a miraculously clean stack of dish cloths he'd apparently found in some hidden corner of the cabinet. "Lessons we never forget, I suppose."

Despite hours of effort and a gallon of soap and hot water, neither had been able to scour away the remaining pancake batter they'd effectively baked onto the beaters the first time Heart had tried his hand at breakfast. The first time they'd attempted to use the Mindscape's version of a dishwasher.

Janus hummed as he filled the coffee carafe at the sink. "I… I didn't think you remembered anything… before," he finished vaguely.

"Of course I do. I'm Thomas' knowledge." Janus watched Logan pause his cleaning, eyes faraway. ""If he remembers, if any of us remember, so do I." He caught Janus watching him and renewed his efforts to scrub away a sticky spot from the edge of the counter.

A door swung open upstairs and raucous laughter, from Remus and Lucas both, poured down. "See ya, Nerds!" Remus called. "We're headed to my castle! Do everything I would do!" he added. The solid thunk of his door to the Imagination swallowed most of Lucas' response but his tone left its contents clear.

Cheeks pink, Logan's gaze lingered on the stairs, a question burning behind his eyes.

Janus left him to his private thoughts and loaded up the machine with coffee. The coffee scoop scraped the bottom of the bag and Janus turned to search for another. Logan stood behind him, fresh beans in hand.

"Thank you," he nodded, then quietly filled the machine and set it to brew. And waited for Logan to be ready to speak.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Has it always been just the two of them in a relationship? I mean… since…"

"Since Virgil left?"

Logan looked down, hiding his expression behind his glasses. "Well, yes, and…" Trailing off, he opened the cabinet over the sink and scanned the contents for a moment before taking two plain black mugs. "After Lucas… emerged."

"They…" Janus weighed the truth and finally shrugged. Virgil's business was his own and if he hadn't shared his past relationships with the others, Janus wouldn't be the one to reveal his secrets. "Essentially, yes."

"Were you and Virgil—"

"Are you and Virgil together?" Janus asked rather than think about that particular less-than-gentle rejection.

Logan tilted his head to one side, searching Janus' eyes as though he was the one who could tell truth from lies. Finally he shook his head. "No. Never."

Sharp truth cut through the space between them and Janus would've taken back the question if it could erase the frown pulling down the edges Logan's mouth. "Neither have I," he answered. Belated. Too late. "Not with any of them," he added, honesty burning his tongue. "I have not been compatible with…" He waved his hand, letting the gesture speak and, absurdly, wishing Logan's curiosity had struck him upstairs where honesty came easier for him.

Seeming to misinterpret Janus' reluctance, Logan sounded contrite. "I… I apologize for such a personal quest—" his footsteps drew nearer.

"What about you?" Janus whipped around, eyes widening when he saw Logan held sugar and vanilla, cinnamon, and milk.

Where had he found milk?

"I…" he squared his shoulders, throat bobbing above his tie. "I suppose it's only fair to ask," he said with a tight smile. A false smile. "No. I have never been involved romantically or sexually with… any of the others. I am…" Logan set down the collection of bottles and tugged his sweater closer. "I am not 'partner' material."

Janus regarded him for a long moment, dropping his gaze only when the coffee maker gurgled its completion. He filled the first mug and set it before Logan on the counter. As he filled his own cup, Janus watched Logan from the corner of his eye as he first stirred in a teaspoon and a half of sugar before adding several drops of vanilla and milk. He popped in two cinnamon sticks and blew on the brew.

"Excellent taste," Janus murmured.

"Indeed," Logan said with a chuckle.

Using the same teaspoon, Janus scooped up sugar for his own coffee but Logan stopped him, handing him the cup he'd just prepared.

"No, thank you," he said with a small smile, picking up the coffee Janus had just poured. "I take it black."

"Then why—" Janus frowned. He let his words fall away, staring at the little swirls of milk in his cup. "How did you know how I…"

Logan smiled and sipped his plain coffee. "You made yourself coffee the morning Virgil's room reappeared next to mine."

He'd had to lay on the whole Scooby Doo villain routine thick that morning, making a show of swiping bacon fresh from the pan and pouring himself a giant mug of coffee as the others had run about, panicked at the change in the Mindscape. With everyone too consumed with figuring out why Virgil's room had moved again, Janus was certain no-one had even noticed him.

It seemed someone had.

"You know, I think you're right," Janus winked, lingering on Logan's eyes until he was sure his sarcasm was clear. "This isn't at all the behavior of a thoughtful partner."

Logan froze, mug half-way to his mouth for another sip. "I—" He looked away and gulped at his coffee as though he'd find the right words at the bottom of the cup. "I merely remembered how you took your coffee and wanted you to have an enjoyable—ah…"

Janus blew at the steaming rising up before taking a slow sip. "You're doing little to deny the allegations you are a kind and thoughtful person, Logan. In fact, I—"

Their eyes met, the tug of Thomas' sudden call for Logan flickering through the Mindcape. "Excuse me," he said, setting down his nearly finished coffee. "I must go. Thank you for the coffee and… Well, for everything."

"You were such an imposition," Janus said, raising his own cup with a smile.

Logan gave him one more nod and—

And remained in the kitchen.

"Oh, no," he muttered, then closed his eyes, hands fisted at his sides.

Logan didn't budge.

"I… I can't—I—"

Thomas' summons grew stronger and tears pricked Logan's eyes. He trembled, the effort of sinking out draining him.

"Here." Janus set down his cup and offered his hands. "I can take you, I'll—"

"No." Logan shook his head, panic sharpening his voice. "No, they'll know something is wrong with me." He straightened his tie, face wet with tears and sweat. "Go. Go for me. You can…" He make a whooshing gesture between them, his meaning clear.

"Are you sure?"

Logan shrugged but the tremble in his jaw revealed how much this pained him. "You've done it before."

The first time he'd impersonated Logan, Janus had wanted to get caught. And even with his glaring, intentional mistakes; the tie, the slips in language, the sour glances at Virgil… It had taken the others an unbearably long time to recognize he was not actually Logan.

What had been intended as a demonstration of how much the others valued Logan's input and recognized the importance of his presence had instead backfired spectacularly, achieving opposite. Much as the rest of that day had.

And the second time he'd replaced Logan…

Thomas' summons grew insistent, a rough pull strong enough to rattle their mugs on the counter. "Please, Janus!"

The panic in Logan's eyes decided for him and, in a flash, Janus' capelet, gloves, and hat sloughed off and disappeared, revealing a replica of Logan's black polo and jeans. His scales dissolved, leaving behind two matching brown eyes and dark Warby Parkers. He smoothed back his hair into Logan's typical style and began to sink out.

"Wait!" Logan grabbed his shoulder, then tapped the tie knotted around his neck. It was pale blue, the wrong color.

The purple stripes in Logan's tie were the one color he couldn't mimic.

"Take this." Logan tugged at his own tie and looped it around Janus' neck. Carefully knotting it, he smoothed it down, then nodded. "There." His hand lingered over Janus' heart. Could he feel its pounding?

Drumming his fingers to hide the tremble in his own hand, Janus covered Logan's. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I know."

Shoulders slumped and hugging Janus' sweater tight around his body, Logan's eyes followed him as he sunk down.

Janus shook his head. Surely they were simply trying to get away with something… untoward. That was all. No need for worry.

Already shivering as he peeled away his electric blanket, Janus stood and wrapped himself in his warmest robe. If the dynamic duo was taking such pains to keep their return from the Imagination quiet, the duo had some mischief to hide. The longer Janus took to ready himself, the less likely he would be to catch them in the act—and the more havoc they could cause. There was no time to dress completely.

He opened his door, hand raised and ready to silence any of their excuses. But instead of spying Remus and Lucas, bloodied and muddied from whatever trouble they'd gotten up to in the Imagination, Janus found Logan.

Alone in the hallway, smoky shadows etched under confused eyes, Logan whipped around to face him. His hands shook and the ordinarily loquacious Side seemed struck dumb. Logan looked past him and into his room, eyes widening at whatever he saw.

"Logic?"

Logan's eyes darted down to his scaled hands and Janus quickly covered them with the spare gloves he kept in all his pockets just in case. In case of impossibilities such as this.

Janus pulled his robe a little closer around himself. "Was there something you needed, Logic?" The other's silence had begun to unnerve him and Janus stepped closer. "Rather late for a social call, don't you think?"

"I—" Logan looked around himself as though he didn't know where he was. How the hell had he gotten here if not intentionally? The others could come here, of course. Janus guarded the doors between their halves of the Mindscape in only direction. And even then, that was only for Lucas and Remus.

Logan's eyes traced the latest path of destruction Remus's dear Lucie had traced along the hall.

The scales running up Janus' leg had only grown back thicker after the one morning the Creative Side had caught him off guard. "Yes. Remus isn't always careful with his Morningstar in the mornings." Some mistakes Janus only made once. "Mind your ankles if you're ever around when he wakes."

Silenced by some force Janus did not control, Logan opened and closed and opened his mouth again, wordless, speechless.

He ran.

And Janus followed. But before he could warn him, Logan tripped on the last step, the hidden damage from Virgil's final betrayal just one of many Janus could not repair.

Logan leaned heavily against the back of the sofa and Janus slid behind him to the wall switch and slowly turned up the lights. With his eyes already adjusted to the dim light upstairs, the last thing the Logical Side needed was to be blinded by sudden illumination.

He squinted through crooked glasses at the stained carpet, the dirty patio doors that resisted every attempt Janus made to clean them. The ruined "Big Picture" painting.

With each inhalation catching in his chest, Logan's shoulders heaved, straining to draw in enough air to speak or even stand.

The all-too familiar sounds of a blooming panic attack shook Janus into action. He moved to Logan's side before he could really think about it, hands reaching to steady him without asking.

"Logic?" He kept his voice low but still Logan looked up like he'd forgotten he was there. "Logic, breathe," Janus said, tapping the 4-7-8 pattern that used to be the only thing that could get through to Virgil in this state.

"Good," he nodded when Logan complied. "And hold," Janus said, stroking Logan's back when he couldn't sustain a breath for longer than three seconds.

"That's okay, let's try again," Janus murmured.

Watching Logan, the Sides' logic, speechless with panic was jarring. A bit like when Roman apologized or when Lucas cried. Or every time Virgil's shadows turned purple. But Janus remained close, gently drawing Logan nearer when he leaned in to his touch, head bowed and resting lightly on Janus' shoulder.

"You're safe," Janus whispered as he tapped the steady beat, not sure how much Logan could even hear over his wheezing. "You're safe with me, Logic."

Slowly, Logan's breathing quieted, deepening bit by bit until he straightened and stood tall, shoulders squared. "Thank you," he said tightly, pulling away from Janus' hold.

Janus smiled and hid his shiver at the loss of closeness. "Anytime, Logic," he murmured.

Logan swayed every so slightly and Janus stood with hands ready, merely to catch him, of course. Finally he lowered his hands when Logan seemed certain not to fall and Janus had run out of excuses to hold him.

Still, Janus couldn't move away completely. Even through the gloves, Logan's body heat had been a welcome comfort to Janus' perpetually frigid hands. Not even he could deny he missed the warmth.

"I—I apologize." Logan continued to avoid his gaze. "I… I don't know what came over me. I'll be going—" Head down and shoulders rounding, he remained otherwise motionless, rooted to the frayed carpet.

Janus stepped closer, consciously relaxing his hands at his sides. But he had no hold on the Logical Side, no tethers keeping him here; the gates between their corners of the Mindscape were wide open.

"It…" Logan's voice was thick with tears and his body trembled with effort as he appeared to try to force himself right through the floor. "It seems I cannot."

The floor remained dull and solid beneath his feet, with none of the springiness it got when Remus or Lucas would try to sneak off without Janus' release.

This wasn't him.

Not knowing what else to do, Janus extended his hand. "Perhaps I may assist you?"

Logan wouldn't even look at him.

"I could bring you to your room," he coaxed gently. Despite the timelessness of evenings in this part of the Mindscape, Logan's exhausted appearance led Janus to believe it was quite late. He was fairly certain none of the others would be awake.

He was equally certain Logan wouldn't dare risk rising up in the middle of them in the living room or the hall, tears dripping down his cheeks. Rising up directly in his own room was likely worth the loss of privacy Janus' brief presence would inflict.

Logan's fingers twitched closer, reaching. He didn't take his hand, though, until the loud creak of Remus' doorway to the Imagination spilled down the stairs.

With a firm grip on Logan's hand, Janus sank them both down and, for just a second, he smelled the rich coffee-and-ink scent of Logan's room. Something pushed him back and, with Remus and Lucas' voices in his ears, Janus shifted and brought Logan up into his own room.

"Why—" Logan began, shaking as he looked around. "Why have you—"

Someone banged on the bedroom door and Janus' hand automatically closed in a loose fist, silencing Logan's questions. His face twisted in rage at the violation only to pale, eyes wide, when Remus' voice filtered through the closed door. "Hey, Jannie!"

Thank Thomas he'd remembered to lock it or Remus surely would have barged right in.

"Jannie, we're back!" he crowed. "And we brought you something!"

"Re, you maniac," Lucas chuckled from the other side of the door. Janus heard a wet smacking sound followed by Remus' cackle. "If Janus has any sense at all, he's asleep."

"Aw," Remus whined and banged on the door again. Logan shuddered behind him, stuttered breath pitching up. Janus reached for his hand and, in his desperation, Logan took it. "But I wanna give it to him tonight!"

"Come on… I'll give you something tonight."

Remus cackled again and the pounding on Janus' door stopped. "You promise?"

"Don't I always?"

Janus heard their footsteps recede from the door. "Say goodnight, Re."

"'Goodnight, Re'" Remus laughed. "We'll keep the door unlocked if you wanna watch!"

Lucas' door—it squealed less than Remus'—closed and the hallway fell silent again. Janus sighed, shoulders dropping down in relief. He realized he was still holding Logan's hand and he loosened his grip, not quite able to force himself to be the first to move away. Even in his room, the warmest in this part of the Mindscape, Logan's hand burned against his palm. The heat of a good shower or the campfire from Thomas' scouting days.

A hot coffee.

Logan was slow to let go.

"Are they always so… demonstrative?" Logan finally asked.

Janus shook his head and finally dared to look over his shoulder. Posture stiff and arms crossed over his chest, Logan had taken on the pose of a stern teacher. But to Janus, he just looked liked he was hugging himself.

Still pale and still sporting shadows that rivaled Virgil's, at least Logan was breathing normally now. The chance to observe and learn about the Sides Janus kept most under wraps seemed to have set aside a bit of his earlier panic. Janus smiled. "They're usually worse. Ever since I locked them in Lucas' room for a month after one particularly energetic evening, now they at least close the door."

Logan's eyes widened and he stepped back, eyeing the door and the window. The vaguely threatening words had tumbled past Janus' lips, the power of his room forcing more transparency than he was accustomed to.

Janus didn't get a lot of guests in his room. Remus and Lucas preferred not to spend time there and Roman had only come to see him twice. It had been years since Patton—or Virgil, for that matter—had dared set foot past his threshold, let alone linger long enough for an actual conversation.

This was Logan's first visit.

"The walls of my room ensure a certain level of… honesty," Janus said slowly, taking greater care with his words. "It requires some getting used to. But I promise you," he added, meeting Logan's eyes. "I will not lock you away."

"Then why am I here?" He edged closer to the door but started at a sudden slam from across the hall. "Why did you bring me to your room instead of mine?"

"I tried!" Janus hissed, calm shattering. What if he couldn't ever bring Logan back? He took a deep breath and offered his hand. "We can try gain, I'll—"

"But I don't wa—" Logan's mouth closed and he shook his head slightly before trying again. "I don't wa—" He sighed, almost a growl, and turned away. "I don't believe you."

Silence sat heavy between them as Janus parsed through the real truth his room was trying to push past Logan's control. Remus' partial acceptance had allowed Janus to loosen his reins and Janus had gotten quite the earful of all the goings on in the other half of the Mindscape.

Finally, he nodded at the Logical Side. "I would be surprised if you did."

Jaw tight, Logan stood tall, hands fisted and tucked beneath his arms. His gaze was steady but his mouth still trembled, glasses fogged, as he looked back at him over his shoulder.

Poor little Mo. He spun in a circle, his tiny ‘heavy dirt’ light blinking furiously as he passed over the same area again and again, trying his darnedest to brush up all the flour into his collection bin.

It wasn’t going well.

“Uh, Popstar?” Virgil hopped down and nudged Patton with his elbow. “I don’t think these things were made to pick up flour.” Patton looked over his shoulder and saw that Mo had only succeeded in smearing the flour out into a larger circle and it was now caked in the treads of its wheels, leaving a long track of white powder all over the floor as he pivoted and trundled off to his next mess.

Patton and Virgil making cookies as Mo fails to clean up the flour. Art by @starsinger, shared with permission.

“Oh! That’s not good!” He raced to stop the robot, chasing after him for a moment before picking him up and turning him over. Mo made a musical sound of protest, playing his sad ‘Help, I’m trapped’ melody, as Patton set him upside down on the counter. Using a wet dishcloth, he attempted to clear the wheels while Virgil swept up the remaining flour with a broom. “Ah, thanks, Kiddo—er, Virge.” Patton quickly corrected himself.

Virgil bumped shoulders with him after dumping the dustpan of flour—and three dropped chocolate chips—into the trash and actually smiled. “Thanks, Pat. You know… I don’t always mind it when you call me Kiddo.”

Grinning, Patton set the Roomba back down on the floor and pressed the restart button. They both smiled as they watched the little robot scoot across the floor, bumping twice into the edge of the refrigerator, before he scooted his way out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

And right between Janus’ unwitting feet.

He stumbled against the doorway with a dull thud and the Roomba’s wheels skidded before he resumed his previous path. “Goddammit!”

Virgil’s eyes widened and Patton reached for his arm. “It’s okay Ki—”

He sunk out of the kitchen before Patton could stop him. 

“We have got to get this damn thing properly programmed. I swear to god it is intentionally trying to trip me!” Janus entered the kitchen, rubbing his shoulder. “Oh!” He looked up and tugged at his capelet before checking his hat. “Ah, good morning, Patton. I—I didn’t… I didn’t actually think anyone was awake.”

Patton raised an eyebrow and quickly glanced at the clock above the stove. “Good afternoon, Janus. I think it’s probably a little later than you realized.”

Blinking at the bright blue LED clock reading 1:15, Janus slowly nodded, then winced like the movement hurt. He smiled, smooth and bright, like he was in on the joke. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He swallowed and folded his hands in front of himself. “Well, yes, then… I… Oh.” 

He looked down at Patton’s flour-dusted apron and the partially filled tray of unbaked oatmeal cookies in front of him. His smile shrank. “Well,” he repeated, waving toward the tray. “You’re busy. Don’t let me keep you from what you were doing. I’ll just grab a cup of coffee.” He stepped closer to the cabinet to retrieve a mug and Patton dropped another mound of dough onto the tray. 

But Janus didn’t seem to be in a big rush to get his coffee. Instead, he slowly took down a cup and watched him scoop out the cookie dough as he poured. It felt almost like when they were kids and they would’ve spent a quiet afternoon making cookies together. Almost.

Patton couldn’t really remember the last time they’d baked together.

Now Janus was just standing there, still watching him. Did he miss it, too? Patton glanced at the soft cotton gloves Janus wore all the time now. Making cookies would just make them dirty. Maybe he needed something?

He looked up and smiled. “Did you need help with that, Jan?”

Clearly startled out of his train of thought, Janus fumbled and nearly dropped the mug. He looked up, only then realizing Patton had been watching him, well, watch him.

“Ah, no, no, of course not.” He turned away from Patton as he finished pouring, hiding his face. “I believe I can manage a cup of coffee.” The back of his neck was red.

Probably overheating under all his layers in a kitchen well-warmed by the oven he’d been running all morning.

Maybe it was a good thing Janus looked away because there was no way Patton could've hidden his disappointment. A not so tiny part of himself hoped Janus was lingering on purpose, wanting to stay, wanting to just… hang out, but just wasn't sure how to say it.

And, for just a moment there, he almost thought he felt a little disappointment from Janus, too, but… No. No, he was just projecting his feelings onto him. Again. 

Out of politeness, Janus hung around the kitchen while he blew on his coffee, waiting until it was cool enough to sip, maybe? Still mostly turned away, Janus hummed, “Is there a special occasion?” 

Patton shrugged and inhaled the sugary scent wafting up from the still-unbaked cookies as he opened the oven and slid in the tray. “Nothing special. Just a Tuesday… I thought it might be fun to have a nice treat for dessert tonight… just because.” He frowned, suddenly realizing why Janus might be lingering so. “You don’t think it’s too much sugar, do you?”

It was only then Janus turned, cheeks still a little flushed from the heat. He reached for him—had he gotten too close to the open oven? But Janus lowered his hand before he could be sure.

Still, Janus smiled. Softer this time. “No, Pat—Patton, I think a little indulgence would be a welcome act of self-care for everyone tonight.” Janus sipped at his coffee, closing his eyes against the steam. Or the pain twitching at the edges of his thoughts. “We can all go for a run or something in the morning tomorrow.”

“Ha! I thought it was the cookies that are supposed to run from us!” Patton laid a fresh piece of parchment onto the next baking sheet and plopped another scoop of cookie dough on top of it. “You know…” He danced his shoulders side to side, waiting for Janus to get the reference. “Run, run, run, as fast as you can…"

“Perhaps next time you can make gingerbread men,” Janus murmured. 

Patton grinned back at him over his shoulder, but Janus was looking down at his coffee. Finally he said, “I’ll… let you return to your baking, Patton.” He raised the cup. “Thank you for the coffee and…” He drank a bit more, eyes darting over to the cabinet under the sink.

Patton turned to look but didn’t see anything there.

“Thank you,” he finally said, slipping back out of the kitchen and taking the stairs up to his room. Definitely had a headache if he was avoiding sinking in and out.

“See you later?” Patton called back, trying not to be too loud. He didn’t hear if Janus responded.

Patton waited another moment before calling out to Virgil, “Hey, Kiddo, wanna come help me with this next tray?”

In a second, Virgil was back, peering over the counter into the living room and around the corner into the hallway. “Is he gone?” 

Nodding and painting on a smile, he patted the counter next to him and Virgil leapt up onto it, white-tipped fingers gripping the edge.

“Thanks, Pat.”

“No problemo, Virge,” Patton made himself grin. Maybe he could catch up with Janus later, see if he needed anything else for his headache. In the meantime, Virgil was here and ready for more baking.

Patton caught Virgil’s eye, then nodded and stepped back to the oven. He flipped on the oven light and peered through the glass. The tops had gotten puffy but the centers were still a little shiny. “Hm, these need a few more minutes. Hey, I have an idea!” He tapped Virgil’s knee and scooped up a bit of dry oatmeal from its box. “C’mon…”

~

A half hour later, Logan stepped into the living room and stared at the floor. He crouched down and touched the trail of debris leading from the kitchen to the coffee table before standing. “Does anyone have a reason for spreading uncooked oatmeal on the floor?” Patton looked up from behind the couch, blushing lightly. Virgil stood up as well, moving to the top of the couch after greeting Logan with a little two-fingered salute.

“It’s, uh, an experiment?”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “An experiment?” He crossed his arms. “And what hypothesis are you testing?”

Patton clasped his hands in front of his heart. “That it would be really cute if Mo followed the trail back to us over here!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose to hide his smile, Logan asked, “‘Mo?’”

“Yeah, I”—Patton glanced at Virgil, who nodded in agreement—“We thought it was a cute name, you know, the robot—“

“From WALL-e, yes. Got it.” Sighing and no longer able to hide a small smirk, Logan nodded as he made his way to the kitchen for another cup of coffee.  “Far be it from me to interfere with science." Back turned to the pair, he could safely smile at Patton's quiet—for him—cheer. "Carry on.” 

~

Back in his room, Janus set down his coffee and sunk into his desk chair. Exhausted from even the tiny illusion to conceal his state, he let it slip away then took off his hat and capelet.

Bloodshot eyes and what had become a perpetually dark shadow under his human eye sneered back at him from the mirror hanging on his door. He raked a gloved hand through his bedhead, attempting to tame the bit that refused to lay flat. Snarling, he folded his arms on the edge of the desk, then let his head rest on them. Facing away from he mirror, he laid his human cheek against his arms.

His eyes fell on his bottom dresser drawer. It wasn't the whiskey hidden under the kitchen sink, but it would do. Without really thinking, he turned in his chair, rising slightly and moving toward the drawer. “No,” he said aloud to himself. “It’s one o’clock in the afternoon. Stop.”

Shaking out his hands, he turned his chair to face the desk fully and took out his laptop. He lifted the cover and powered it on, eyes darting back over to the bottom drawer. No. You just need to keep busy.

He shook his head and found the schedule Logan had sent everyone at the start of the week. It was Tuesday now—when had that happened?—so he scrolled through each remaining day, looking for batches of time that would permit Thomas—and his Sides—windows of time for relaxation. Logan had made the changes he’d suggested, skipping a less-than-necessary meeting with the merchandiser, consolidating their open time on that day to allow for a trip to the Imagination.

Janus turned in his seat, again facing the bottom drawer. Perhaps just a little in his coffee would be okay… Janus sipped a bit more the hot brew, then stood, bringing the cup with him. Setting the mug on the dresser top, Janus bent down and opened his bottom drawer, shoving aside the stack of matching yellow sweaters and fished around in the last sweater of the stack, retrieving the small, half-empty bottle of Everclear he’d swiped from Remus’ side of the Imagination.

Where Roman favored old fashioned taverns ripped from the pages of a D&D campaign, Remus’ realm hosted clubs and bars of every imaginable style. This one was from a hole in the wall establishment designed to look like pictures of an old punk club Thomas had come across online during a marathon Wikipedia binge. Remus’ version was a pixel-perfect replica of the club in the photo, complete with the graffitied awning, strung out junkies milling about inside and out.

And a fully stocked bar.

Janus twisted the cap and sniffed, letting his eyes slip shut. He savored the sharp aroma, the volatile liquid almost enough to give him a little buzz simply by breathing it in. Finally, he stood and topped off his half-empty mug. He started to twist the cap back on then stopped, opening the bottle again before lifting it to his lips and sipping directly from the mouth. The alcohol blazed his lips, his tongue and his throat as it washed over him, leaving behind a welcome warmth. He sighed, shoulders sinking down, headache easing at last.

He took one more sip, then wiped the mouth of the bottle with a handkerchief from his pocket and re-capped it, hiding the bottle away in his sweaters and sliding the drawer closed.

Because everyone liked to hear 'I told you so.'

Reassured, though, Thomas still wasn't banshing him. Instead he played along. "You're right," he said, louder and not quite hiding a smile.

Villain time. "Ah, yes!" Janus cried. "Ha! It feels so good! So good!!" Let them use that for the videos and set off a thousand ships. A crash from the other side of the Mindscape's veil broke through but Thomas didn't hear it over his proud crows. "And I know how much you love these constant dilemmas so please... keep overthinking everything…" Finally, without waiting for an actual dismissal from Thomas, Janus sank down with a pleased smirk.

His smile faded in the darkness of his hidden pocket of the Mindscape.

Janus had emerged in a duplicate room, notable only for its dissimilarities to Thomas’ living room. Dust and cobwebs gathered in every corner and cranny. The “big picture” hung crooked on the dingy wall, the painting’s shredded center marking where Remus’ morning star had been embedded. Repeatedly.

The big L-shaped sofa was in no better shape, with frayed armrests and stains whose origins Janus knew better than to investigate. Flickering light from the kitchen spilled over the space and the strobing effect granted eerie motion to the cabinet doors where they hung off loose hinges.

A timer ticked, loudly and unevenly, Remus’ latest “experiment” seemingly designed to test… test what? Their patience? Their calm?

Their sanity?

How long had Remus known exactly who’d been lurking just on the edges of Logan’s mind, Patton’s heart, and Roman’s ego? How long had Remus known precisely who’d been waiting in the wings for tonight’s excision? 

Air heavy and thick with the twang just moments after a rubber band snapped, Janus shivered. For however long Remus had been waiting for the new Side to emerge, he was certainly here now.

“You can come out,” Janus called, sitting gingerly on the cleanest spot on the ruined sofa. Listening to the floorboards creak down the hall, Janus kept his eyes trained on his gloves, examining his nails. “I know you’re there, of course… Even if the others don’t.” Don’t want to know, at least.

“What the fuck am I doing down here, Janus?”

In a voice so like Patton’s, Anger’s shout shook the Mindscape, rattling the photos lining the hallway, the broken frame of the painting above the couch. Janus looked up.

Rough where Patton was soft, Anger stood seething in front of the broken blinds. Cold starlight spilled in from the patio and gave him a silvery halo. His eyes glowed orange, dimly matched by a tattered amber henley. Matching glasses, a filthy grey hoodie draped over his shoulders, and ripped khakis completed his imperfect impression of the Moral Side. Hair unkempt and the left lens cracked, he stood with hands loosely fisted at his sides, fingers taped and ready for a brawl.

Janus took a slow breath. “I am not your enemy, Anger.”

“Fuck that, Jan." Cold fire spilled from his eyes, his heart and Janus shivered. "You’re the reason I’m here!”

Bowing his head, Janus conceded the point. “And yet I am not your enemy.”

Anger stomped closer. “Then who the fuck is?”

Let Patton say ‘fuck,’ indeed.

Janus waved his hand, crooked smile feigned. “Society’s expectations?”

Growling, Anger kicked the sofa and started to sink down. “Fuck this bullshit, I’m outta—“

Hand slapped over his own mouth, Anger froze, then rose back up into the room. Fire blazed in his eyes as he jerked his arm, fighting to remove his hand from his own mouth, fighting to get away.

Janus curled his lips into a perfect smile, left hand closed in a fist. “Have a seat,” he said, watching Anger as he marched, stiff and fighting each forced step.

He stopped in front of the seat adjacent to Janus' and trembled, defying his instruction.

Janus shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said and sat back in his own seat, legs primly crossed. His hand remained tight, with full control over the new Side’s movements.

“So. ‘Anger,’ is it?”

Anger grunted from behind his own hand.

“What was that?” Janus asked, hand cupped behind his ear. He took no pleasure in repeating the gesture he'd just used with Thomas. “Try enunciating, my dear.”

“Hmph—I said,” he stuttered when Janus suddenly released control of his hand. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Anger glared at him as he sat down. “I said, ‘Fuck. You.’”

“Language,” Janus chided. “Really, that’s the fifth time you’ve used the ‘fuck’ word. Pick up a thesaurus already. I’m sure Logan has at least one to spare.”

“Who the fu—hell are you to lecture me on language?” Anger spat back. “You wouldn’t know an honest word if it bit you in your bony scaled ass!”

“Mmm… interesting,” Janus murmured and rose from his seat. The air hung heavy with Anger’s words, his lies thick and syrupy. “You do know that I taste the truth—your truth, at least, and… the others’.” Head tilted, he assessed Anger’s posture, his expression.

The sickly sour sweetness of untruth seeping from every pore.

“And you also know that lying can keep me close to you,” Janus continued, watching Anger the way he might a lion with an open cage. “Yet you still choose bullshit insults over saying something sincere.”

Janus dropped down into the seat closest to him. “It’s almost…”

Anger trembled next to him, hands twitching with the effort to break free from Janus’ touchless hold. “It’s almost as though you don’t want me to go.”

“That’s bullshit,” Anger lied, avoiding his eyes.

“No, darling,” Janus said, reaching for his chin. Holding him gently, it didn’t take much pressure to turn Anger’s head to face him. “It’s not.”

Tears glistened in Anger’s bright orange eyes.

“Did my crook hurt you during our battle?” he asked, searching his eyes. Janus was nearly confident enough to gamble, to release his hold completely now. If Anger wished, this close, he could do quite a bit of damage before Janus could do anything to stop him.

“No,” Anger finally muttered, the single word pushed from his lips with visible effort.

The word was light, fresh, citrusy.

The truth.

“Did I hurt you?” Janus asked at last, letting loose his grip on Anger’s limbs even as he cupped Anger’s cheek in his hand.

The new Side melted against him, face buried in his capelet as stuttering sobs shook his body. Janus wrapped his arms around him, the warmth, the shape of him so like Patton, so familiar.

And yet not him.

Anger gripped him, more a wrestler’s hold than an embrace. Fingers twisting in his shirt, Anger’s arms trembled, push-pulling him away and closer at the same time.

“Anger, have I hurt you?” Janus asked again, feeling carefully for injuries.

“Only when you stay away,” he choked. “Why?” Half-growl, half-sob, Anger’s voice rumbled in his chest and Janus held him tighter. He smelled like cookies left in the oven for too long, crisp and smokey. Bitter sugar and charred flour.

Anger pulled back and his almost-Patton eyes met Janus'. “Why do you stay away? You want to see him, he knows that you do. But you—” Voice breaking, his words were lost to tears and he fell back into Janus' arms.

But that didn’t solve his immediate problem. It had been weeks since the Nerd had fallen asleep watching octopuses bone with him and Remus' skin burned every time he thought about it. It didn’t matter how many weighted blankets he used or how hot he made his room, he couldn’t make the feeling go away. Nothing felt right. 

Nothing felt the same.

Did Logan feel it, too? He had before, the same ache, the same empty, hungry arms.

But now Logan wasn’t even answering his door. Not even to tell him to fuck off.

Ear pressed to the thick wood—ha!—Remus closed his eyes and listened to the little shuffling sounds inside. A quiet curse, clinking of metal and plastic. The Nerd was definitely in there and he sounded busy.

Or maybe he just didn’t hear his knock?

Remus banged again, hard enough to rattle the door in its frame. “Logan?” he called. 

Something trilled from the other side of the door and Remus caught Logan’s rare genuine chuckle. “Yes, Remus, come in.”

He turned the knob. The door hadn’t been locked. And Remus hadn’t even tried it. A month ago that never would’ve stopped him. Remus blinked at the knob in his hand—ha ha!—for a moment, then hurried inside before Logan changed his mind.

“Logan, whatcha up…” Remus’ words fell away when he got a good look inside. Logan sat on the floor, legs criss-crossed like a little kid, surrounded by gears and servos and brushes, the guts of the little robot vacuum always chugging along in the common space. The robot sat beeping in front of him, spinning slowly.

“Shit.” Remus dropped to the floor in front of him, eyes wide. “Didja break it?”

“What?” Logan blinked up at him. “Oh,” he said after a moment when the little robot bumped into his knee. He smiled down at the thing like it was a pet. “No, I was seeking a way to improve his functioning. He seems to struggle with some of the more common kitchen messes and—”

“He?” Remus grinned, reaching out to pat the little bot. “You sound like Daddy.”

“Please do not call him that,” Logan murmured, pressing a button on the robot and flipping it—him—over. “Patton may not understand the context in which you use that title, but the rest of us do.”

“He’s not a child.” Remus laughed. “Don’t be so sure he's not in on the joke.”

Logan glanced up at him, brow furrowed and mouth ready with a question, but then seemed to dismiss his own thought and got back to the bot. He pried off the undercover and followed a wire from the motor. 

Remus wiggled a little closer until his knee touched Logan’s, grinning when the other Side drew even closer. Side-by-side now, Remus watched as Logan disconnected the bright yellow battery before loosening the screws around the motor casing.

“Aw,” he groaned. “When you do it that way, you won’t get a tasty little shock for your efforts.” Remus cackled when Logan looked up, frowning.

“Remus, you’re not meant to intentionally electroc—” He stopped when Remus waggled his eyebrows and bumped their shoulders together. A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he returned to his work. “Perhaps that’s an experiment for another day. For now, I would like to complete this iteration so that he’s ready for the morning.”

Remus shrugged and picked up a spare battery, tapping the contacts as Logan tackled a smaller servo on the other side of the little robot. He’d moved a few inches away so the jolt from the battery wouldn’t travel through him and reach Logan. Frowning, he realized he missed the warmth from the Nerd’s leg against his more than he enjoyed the jolt of the battery against his fingers, so he put down the battery and slid close again, thigh pressed right up against Logan’s.

Logan didn’t stop him, didn’t even seem to notice he’d done it, so Remus moved closer until he was just sort of laying against him. Logan’s only response was a little hum, so Remus let his head fall until it rested on his shoulder.

Humming again, Logan pointed to one of the wheels. “When the floor is particularly dirty, debris gets caught in the treads,” he began. “Then Mo tracks that debris all over the floor.”

“Like roadkill on a car tire,” he blurted out then froze, expecting Logan to gag or chastize him.

Or worse, move away.

But the Nerd just nodded. “Precisely.”

That’s when Remus noticed rubbery wedges bolted on the underside frame. “Where’d you get those?” He reached and tapped one. It had a little give and was curved kinda like those bouncy toys they’d get for a quarter in a gum ball machine.

Kinda like, but not exactly.

It didn’t look like anything Thommy-gun might have had laying around his house. Their favorite resident lab rat couldn’t just conjure whatever the fuck he could imagine. It had to be real for him to summon it.

Or he had to get it from him or Ro. And Logan hadn’t gotten the little wedges from him.

Remus' guts churned, sour jealousy twisting as he looked around Logan’s room. Was this Ro Bro’s project, too? Did Logan invite Ro in, show him his problem, and ask for help with a solution? Did they stay up late at night, trying and failing and trying again together?

And if they had, why the fuck did Remus care?

“It’s a tennis ball,” Logan said after a moment. A box sat behind him and he dragged it over. Inside were scraps of cut up tennis balls, bits of staticky yellow fuzz still clinging to handle of a capped X-acto knife nestled between them. “It took a bit of trial and error—more error than anything else, really—to find the proper angles.”

“You coulda just asked me,” Remus said, not sure what to do with the weird, warm relief fizzing under his skin. What the fuck did it matter if Logan had asked Ro instead of him?

“I…” Logan frowned and folded his hands in his lap. But not before Remus finally noticed the Band-aids criss-crossing his fingers and palms. “I did not wish to disturb you.”

“It’s fun to make shit,” Remus said, scanning the tennis ball scraps for signs of blood. The X-acto knife was clean and Logan would’ve disinfected the cuts, too. No chance any of that icky sticky clingy fuzz would’ve made it into his wounds to fester and swell. 

Logan liked to say he had no real world impact, but Logan’s creations did. If Thommy-gun had learned how to make a bomb and felt and seen and smelt the materials he needed, Logan could create it, too. And his would work.

Logan’s voice pulled him back. “You… you truly would not mind?”

“Nuh-huh.” Remus grinned back at the creative fire burning behind Logan’s eyes. “Whatcha need, Pocket Protector?”

“Well… These wheel guards are quite effective at directing the debris toward the dust intakes, however…”

Remus nodded, looking where Logan was pointing.

“However the fuzz of the tennis balls collects dust after time and prevents the material from being properly sucked“—his lips twitched at Remus' cackle—“up. The polarized fuzz then later falls behind the wheels, exacerbating the problem. I’d considered shaving the pieces to eliminate—”

“Ooooh, Lo Lo… You want me to shave your balls?”

That earned him a long stare, one dark eyebrow raised above those thick glasses.

“Here,” Remus laughed, opening his hand with a flourish. Four curved wheel shields lay nestled together in his palm, smooth and angled perfectly to fit around the robot’s wheels. He kept them the same kind of rubber as the tennis balls but instead of boring ass off-white, he gave them stripes the color of the Nerd’s tie.

“Is this whatcha need?”

Logan reached slowly for the shields, waiting for a trick, maybe?

“Don't worry—I’d only make them bite if they were for Ro Bro,” he said, dropping them into Logan’s hand. “Will these work?”

“Yes,” he said after inspecting them. He traced the edges of the bolt holes Remus had included in the same spots as the ones Logan had hand-carved. “Yes, I believe these will be more than adequate.” He glanced between the shields and his tie, lips twitching into a tiny smile. “Thank you, Remus.”

Remus clapped his hands together and resumed his position, head resting on Logan’s shoulder. “Well then get crackin’, Teach!”

~

Rather than a hindrance, the heavy warmth of Remus’ head on Logan’s shoulder was… an encouragement, a balm to the sour ache at the back of his throat when it had begun to seem the task before him was insurmountable.

The chaotic Side’s excitement beside him as he worked was palpable. And wonderfully contagious. It buzzed through the air and, oddly, miraculously, even as he hummed beside him, fidgeting and twitching, Remus allowed him to work. Watched him work, engaged and interested in the process. Logan found himself smiling as he adjusted and bolted the new wheel guards into place and reattached the power source.

He flipped Mo over and set him on his wheels. “Would you do the honors?” he turned to Remus.

Nodding, Remus’s hand shot out but, to Logan’s relief, pressed the green Clean button with far greater care than Logan might ever have imagined.

Mo powered on with a happy trill and spun on the spot before bumping into his leg and rolling off under the bed. They both scrambled to keep him in their sights, laying on their bellies to peer under the edge of the comforter.

“What are you using to test it?” An idea sparked behind Remus’ eyes.

“The lint and dust under my bed has served as a useful proxy for smaller messes,” Logan began cautiously. “I hadn’t planned much more than gathering some flour or crumbs from the kitchen.

Remus wiggled his fingers and grinned. “Oh, I can help with that.”