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edupunkn00b · 23 days ago

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I Love You Heart and Mind, Ch. 6: Plushies Are Rather Pleasant

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A lot happened after the Sides went to sleep, plushies held close.

Rated: G - WC: 1895 - CW: none We're so close to the end of this tale. Editing has returned this story to the originally planned seven chapters, even as it's switched things around quite a bit. @always-anais, I hope you're still enjoying the story you requested even if it's taking much longer than planned.

Logan took his time returning to his room, the image of the others’ tiny stuffed replicas figuratively burning into his synapses. Not much smaller than Thomas’ Benjamin, the plushies were overstuffed and rotund—chibi, his mind less-than helpfully supplied—and so very soft-looking. His hands twitched at his sides, the increasingly distant memory of the last time he’d touched any of them pushing out all other thoughts, driving him to reach, to stroke, to hold…

The familiar syncopation of Patton skipping up the stairs just behind him, Logan slipped into his room and closed the door firmly. Shaking, he let out a slow breath and dragged his mind away from the soft warmth of Patton’s skin under his palms, away from tense joints and muscles melting with his ministrations, away from Patton's sweet little sigh as he'd drifted off to sleep.

Sleep. Yes, sleep. That was what Logan needed. And perhaps… perhaps the others made a valid point. While he had not intended to speak aloud his supposition that plushies could indeed function as atypical tools fending off loneliness, his words had been true. Concentrating on Thomas’ sensory recall of the plushies, Logan focused his thoughts and conjured facsimiles of each of them. Thomas, Roman, Virgil, even himself. And Patton.

One by one, he placed them on his nightstand, crowded together, justifying their closeness with the size of the available surface. Once he’d finished, he stepped back and surveyed his work. Logan frowned when he realized he’d placed Patton next to his, practically in his plushie’s lap. If any of the others had seen—no. He shifted his over, closer to his puzzles, then nodded to himself. That would do.

He quickly changed into sleepwear and, after he climbed into bed, readjusted the Thomas plushie to ensure he was at the center and arranged the others around him. Finally, eye mask on and lights off, he counted his breaths until sleep began to take him.

Virgil’s nightmare roused the Mindscape. Chased by a twenty-foot tall Benjamin through teetering stacks of moving boxes, Thomas narrowly escaped the giant bear’s dripping maw, his hair and sleep pants snagging on jagged, rusted teeth. Patton woke with a scream, jarring the others loose from the vision.

Their nightmare recovery routine was, unfortunately, well-practiced. Janus brought Remus to a distant corner of the Imagination, near the border of the sub-conscious, where he could battle the lingering shadows haunting Thomas’ mind. Roman and Virgil were with Thomas, calming and being calmed in turn. Tucked safely in the ersatz glow of his room, Patton avoided the brunt of the processing, allowing Thomas and the others to eventually slip back into more peaceful dreams.

Once Logan was confident everyone else was secure, he, too, retreated to his room to step through his evening routine and try to return to sleep.

He was on the one-hundred and seventy-third term in the fibonacci series when a quiet knock at the door broke his concentration. Rising quickly, he opened it, expecting Virgil or perhaps even Remus. It wouldn’t’ve been the first time either Side had sought solace from the more fantastical parts of their roles in his room and, after the evening’s nightmare, he would be foolish to deny them.

He could never have anticipated who was actually at his door.

“Hiya, Logan,” Patton whispered, smile shaky and fingers twisting in the sleeves of his cat hoodie.

“Patton?” Logan frowned at the tears welling at the corners of Patton's eyes. And at the darkened spots in his hair and at his collar, evidence those tears were far from his first. “Patton, what’s wrong?”

“I…” He looked away, mouth twitching but never fully turning up into his typical grin. “Um… I can’t sleep. I… Can…” He shrugged, both arms curled over his belly. “You can say no, but… Can I stay here tonight? Just…” Shrugging again, Patton met his eyes. “Everyone else is…”

“You have been impacted by Virgil’s nightmare,” Logan stated. “And you do not wish to be alone.”

Patton nodded, eyes cast down on the floor. “Yeah.”

“And you are here because everyone else is occupied with another Side,” Logan finished.

“Well, I…” Patton looked up at him, mouth opening and closing as though he wanted to deny the facts of his predicament.

But he could not.

Why can’t it simply be me he needs?

Fighting to ignore the cold sliver in his his chest, Logan shook away the errant thought.

Patton’s expression crumpled. He nodded and began to turn away. “Oh, of course, Logan. I’m sorry to—”

Hand snapping out to grab his sleeve, Logan stopped him. “Patton?”

Glossy, hopeful eyes looked back at him.

“Patton, I did not deny your request,” he said. “Of course you may come in.”

“Really?” Patton grinned, cheeks pink and lips parted.

Clouds severed, the storm hath passed and a summer’s sun breaks through the gloom…

Logan nodded once and opened the door completely, gesturing toward his bed. “Please make yourself comfortable. I shall take the floor.”

“Oh…” And just as quickly, the clouds returned. Patton looked down at the floor, fingers twisting in his sleeves. “I was kinda hoping… I mean… Would…” He swallowed, audibly, and reached for him. Even here in his room, under the influence of the Logical center of Thomas’ mind, Patton’s fingers trembled, face pinched as though he feared Logan’s reaction to his words. “Maybe you could lay down in the bed, too? Just… Just so I know you’re there?”

Logan could not imagine how his presence might actually help Patton sleep, but the request appeared sincere. Before he could think better of it, he nodded and pulled back the covers. “I shall join you, then,” he said and laid down on one half of the bed.

Patton scurried to the other side and curled under the blankets, facing him. “Thanks, Logan!” With his hoodie pulled down and the blanket tucked up to his chin, his soft, bright face appeared to float in a sea of grey and blue. “‘Night, Logan” he added in a whisper.

The bed was warmer with Patton there and the little buzz from his exhalations and micro adjustments as he settled were far more soothing than reciting Fibonacci numbers. “Good night, Patton,” Logan replied, his own eyelids suddenly heavy. “Sleep well.”

Patton couldn’t stop thinking about the night Logan had come to his room. As the weeks and months went by, every time he struggled to sleep, every time that cold ache crept into his chest, he drew the memory of that evening close. Logan’s steady, gentle hands, his insistence it was alright to rest, that it was alright to feel better.

He’d fallen asleep so easily that night, gently pulled into dreams by the loosey goosey floppiness of his soothed muscles. The softness in his chest. His pain had gone away completely… with Logan’s help. And Patton knew it wasn’t just the massage that had done it. Patton knew it had been Logan himself. Knowing he cared, knowing that, despite it all, he was still worth Logan caring about him.

That feeling had carried Patton through more sad nights than he could count.

Earlier that day in Thomas' bedroom, when Logan had talked about plushies being tools to cope with loneliness, his gaze had felt targeted. Did he know? Logan seemed to know a lot of what went on around the Mindscape. Did he know how much Patton thought about that night? Did he know how much he had helped? How much the memory kept helping him?

Virgil’s nightmare had shaken them all. When Remus and Janus sought solace in the Imagination, and Virgil and Roman soothed each other—and Thomas—Patton had tried to stay in his room. Shielded from the worst of the visions, he’d wrapped himself in his memory of Logan.

And for a while it had worked. Holed up in Nostalgia Central, Patton could perfectly recall the warmth of Logan’s hands, his precision. His gentleness. The fresh scent of the balm and the way it tingled on his skin. The sound of Logan’s breathing as he worked, and his low, pleased hum when he thought Patton had fallen asleep.

Patton wasn’t sure when he finally admitted that what he really wanted wasn’t a massage or a special balm or any of that. What he really wanted was Logan.

Leaving his room hurt. Stepping out into the hallway was like stepping through a sheet of ice and falling into a cold, dark lake. The remnants of Virgil's—and Thomas'—fear poked at him from the shadows, Virgil's ragged breathing in his ears and the final cry that had woken them all echoing up and down the dark hall.

Logan's door had never seemed so far away. Patton took another step, pulled by the promise of what might be on the other side. That tiny half-smile and the surprise in his eyes he had every time Patton knocked. Well, almost every time.

Sharp, watchful eyes behind glasses that otherwise looked so much like his. Maybe even the promise of a borrowed book or a cup of tea. Or maybe…

Step after step, he made it across, not daring to look back at empty lure of his own room. He knocked, only then noticing the tears streaming down his face and neck. He scrubbed at his cheeks and pushed what he hoped looked like a smile onto his lips just in time for Logan to open his door.

He must have looked pathetic. And though a not-so-tiny part of him felt terrible he'd left Logan feeling so guilty he'd had to say yes, a larger than he wanted to admit part of him was thrilled.

As Logan turned, welcoming him inside, Patton noticed the plushies displayed on his nightstand. It wasn't all of the famILY—Roman was dragging his feet on helping create replicas of Janus and his brother—but it was most of them. But Patton had all of them and he was pretty sure Remus would happily make them for Logan, too.

Afraid it might make Logan change his mind, Patton didn't ask about them. Not yet. That could wait for the morning.

With the collection of plushies on the nightstand just behind him, Patton could pretend the little glances Logan cast at him were really at him. One of the plushies was him, after all. That meant he was at least part of those Logan chose to keep close. That definitely had to count for something.

After just a few minutes, Logan blinked slower and slower, the blue glow from his alarm clock sparkling against those long eyelashes he hid behind his glasses.

Finally, Logan sighed, low and soft, and his body sank into the bed as he let go of keeping his shoulders squared and his face serious. In the dark, Patton grinned and scooted just slightly closer. He wasn't trying to invade Logan's personal space—any more than he already was, at least. He just wanted to get close enough to hear him breathe.

Listening to the slow, gentle in-and-out of Logan's breaths, Patton's own racing heart began to slow. His whole body got heavy and the tight knot in the middle of his belly loosened. His eyes had just drifted shut when Logan rolled, one arm draped over his side, chin tucked over the top of Patton's head.

Patton fell asleep smiling.

#sanders sides #ts logan #ts patton #logan sanders #patton sanders #I Love You Heart and Mind #logicality #eventually #bits and pieces of the other sides #canonverse #canonverse with giant/tiny‚ that is

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