#written for the sleepy bean fanfic cafe

[edupunkn00b]

I Love You Heart and Mind, Ch. 3: Moving In

Prev - Moving In - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

What happened after Logan left Patton's room. -

"All this because Patton can't let go of one person?"

Two people.

Logan's shout still ringing in his ears, Patton couldn't force his smile to return. "Logan, can you stop?" Anger buzzed in the air between them but Patton couldn't keep the words from spilling out. "Please?" He tried and failed to meet Logan's eyes, looking everywhere but.

You don't have to see me. You don't even have to care. Just… stop. For a little while?

He did stop. And then he left. Hugging a framed photo of Thomas' kindergarten graduation, Patton stared at Logan's empty spot and, for a moment, considered going after him. The others… they'd be okay in his room without him… Wouldn't they? It wouldn't be like when they'd gone to Virgil's, right. Right?

The only person he could ask had gone.

"Patton, what happened back there?"

Logan hates me for getting stuck on old feelings I should've let go of a long time ago and he knows I'm just hurting everyone and so he left.

Thomas sounded scared and worried and… Pulling in a deep breath, Patton dragged his eyes back from Logan's spot and grinned. "Oh, that was nothing, Thomas!"  He conjured another set of photos from Thomas' class trip to Sea World. "Sometimes I just get to actin' little silly, that's all…"

Patton looked up from the photos. No-one was buying it, least of all Thomas. And he was right, the literal voice of reason had left and, no matter how many times Patton tried to call him back even though there, he wasn't coming back.

He stumbled his way through the rest of their conversation, dancing on the edges of the growing pit in the center of his chest. What would they say if they really knew how far it went?

They rose back up from his room, the living room a little… sharper than he'd remembered it. He looked up at Logan's empty spot and instead saw—

"Logan!"

As Logan explained he'd never really been gone, Patton fiddled with the sleeves on his hoodie. It sure had seemed like he'd been gone, even if Thomas' quiet 'Falsehood' had shaken him free of a quiet upward spiral into another round of jokes.

Patton was just about to find a way to sneak off and finish baking those cookies he'd started earlier that morning when Logan surprised them all again, especially him.

"You got me a gift?" Patton hugged the cat hoodie close. It smelled like Logan's room, paper and ink, pencil shavings and coffee. Half his mind kept his mouth moving, the quips and jokes that were keeping Thomas happy. The other half of his mind raced, barely registering the puppies Roman seemed to pull out of thin air.

He got me a gift. He doesn't hate me. Even after everything. He doesn't hate me.

~

After eating only half his dinner, Logan excused himself, explaining that, now that Thomas was beginning to feel a little better—the sidelong glance his way made it clear which part of Thomas Logan was referring to—he had to catch up on. Patton watched him go, sticking his thumbs in and out of the little gaps in his cuffs. Roman was quieter than usual and Virgil chattier.

"Padre?" Roman was speaking, tapping Patton's hand where he'd twisted his sleeve around and around. "I asked if you were done."

"Oh?" Patton looked up, blinking. Save for his own plate and water glass, the table had been cleared. Steam poured up from the sink where Virgil was washing the big stock pot and Roman was smiling down at him, looking at his mostly-empty dish. "Oh, um, yes… Thank you," he nodded. "I—I think I am. I…" his eyes darted over to the staircase and he nodded to himself before grinning up at Roman. "I think I might go check on Logan, y'know…" Patton gave a little shrug as he pushed up to his feet. "Just to…"

Head tilted to one side, Roman smiled. "That sounds like a most worthy use of your time this evening, Padre."

Patton was halfway to the stairs before he raced back to the kitchen and grabbed a napkin and the cookie tin. Virgil watched him over his shoulder and chuckled. "Nice," he murmured, and returned to his work.

"Okay, now I'm ready," he grinned and skipped up the stairs. He stopped in front of Logan's door, knuckles inches from the indigo wood. Was this really a good idea? What if Logan was really busy and all he'd be doing was interrupting his train of thought and making it that much harder for him to get everything done in time to go to sleep at a reasonable hour? Was he about to make Logan hate him even more?

Patton looked down at the fuzzy pom poms at the ends of his hoodie strings. Logan didn't hate him. He wouldn't've given him this hoodie if did. Logan might not share his feelings, but he didn't hate him. And maybe… just maybe it would make Logan smile to know that, even after he left the room, Patton was still thinking about him.

He closed his eyes and knocked.

The door opened almost immediately. "Patton?" His glasses didn't quite hide the tiny crinkly between his eyebrows as he looked Patton up and down before peering into his eyes. "Are you quite alright?"

"Yeah, I'm a-okay, Logan," Patton quickly cheered, bouncing on his toes and giving him his best jazz hands. "I'm great, I…" Logan's gaze flicked back to his desk, covered in papers and two open calendars. "I don't want to keep you, I just wanted to tell you…"

Head tilted, Logan peered at him like a puzzle he was nowhere close to solving.

Patton stepped a little closer and almost reached for his hand. At the last second, though, he tugged at the little puppy pouch on his cat hoodie. Cat cardian. Catigan. He giggled. "I just wanted to tell you thank you again for the hoodie. It's really nice and warm and…" He hugged his own arms shrugged. "Thank you, Logan. It was really nice of you."

"Oh," Logan nodded, lips twitching into a tight smile. He tugged at his collar before nodding again and beginning to step back into his room. "It is quite unnecessary to thank me again, you've already thanked me sufficiently."

"Well, I…" Patton mirrored his step, shrinking some of the distance between them. "Wait, I, um…" Arms out, he turned around so his back—and his hood—was facing Logan. "I brought you something!" He pointed to his hood and laughed. "Inside!"

"This is an unconventional mechanism," Logan murmured, fumbling with the hood. As soon as Patton felt the weight lift, he spun back to watch Logan's face as he unwrapped the little packet. "You've brought me cookies?"

"Mm-hm," Patton grinned. "They're oatmeal chocolate chip. With—with walnuts."

Logan stared back at him, expression still and completely unreadable. Even for him.

"You know…" Patton squared his shoulders and tried to look stern. "Extra protein and fiber," he said, smile cracking at the end. "Nutritious cookies. Well," he admitted with a laugh. "More nutritious cookies."

Cookies cradled in his cupped hands, Logan silently blinked down at the cookies. Patton nearly reached to take them back when he finally looked up and whispered, "You listened." Logan's eyes had never looked bigger.

"Well, yeah," Patton said, giving him another little shrug. "I… try to, at least."

Face expressionless, Logan wrapped the cookies in their napkin. "Thank you, Patton," he said before stepping all the way back into his room. "I…" Shaking his head, Logan cut himself off. "I must return to my work before bed."

"Oh—okay, Logan, I'll—"

Logan closed the door before he could finish.

Patton hugged himself again, pretending the plush sleeves beneath his hands meant more than just a hoodie. "See you in the morning?"

The only answer was the squeak of Logan's chair.

[tsspromptmonth]

Hello! I'm going to take a stab at finding a secret menu item. Ahem... I'd like to have a rooibos herbal tea with strawberry milk, a blend of peach and cranberry with crushed raspberries and topped with mulberry-flavoured whipped cream.

(Magic au with vampires, darkly romantic tone, Virgil/Patton ship, hiding a fatal injury, only one bed but the one bed is a coffin.)

Here's your payment, and thank you in advance!

I'm Awake Now - Enough To Share - Marriage to the Serpent King- Down the Rushy Glen

Order up!

So… the barista had to find a bigger cup to fit your order. Hope that's okay.

Taking Care of You by @edupunkn00b

[queerchoicesblog]

Mi Luz, Mi Princesa (Secret Santa MoTY Fanfic, Thomas x MC)

So, Christmas is just around the corner: time to take off my dark glasses, wear my brand new Santa hat and...wish @quiero-mas-bean-yo-te-quiero a Merry Christmas from her Secret Santa! 

I don’t know you and to be honest, I’m not fully familiar with the type of fanfic you requested but the gracious host and friend @andi-the-cat paired us and I really hope this Christmassy fluff starring Thomas Mendez I wrote for you will make you happy! Hope you don’t mind if I tagged my tag list too!

Word Count: 1452

Perma Tag: @brightpinkpeppercorn @bhavf @melodyofgraves @abunchofbadchoices @silverhawkenzie @strangerofbraidwood @kamilahmykween @desiree-0816 @universallypizzataco @gayestchoices @embarrassingsmartphonegame  @lilyofchoices @somewillwin @allaboutchoices

___________________________-

Christmas had finally come. Well, almost but with Christmas's Eve just a couple of days away, the jolly festive atmosphere was all around: bright lights in the gardens, the tantalizing smell of hot cocoa and candies in the streets, Christmas songs playing non-stop at the malls. It was that time of the year.

"Thank you for joining me and helping me out today. It truly means a lot" Thomas said with a shy grateful smile, placing a steamy cup of hot chocolate in front of Tara before taking a seat himself.

They got the last free table at the mall cafe after a last-minute Christmas shopping blitz.

Tara smiled back, taking off her scarf.

"No need to thank me, it was my pleasure. And thank you for this lovely treat"

Thomas shrugged, gesturing that it was nothing.

"It's the least I could do after you kindly agreed to endure this desperate enterprise and face the Christmas hysteria with me"

The look on his face as he finished the sentence made Tara chuckle.

"It's okay, I've been through worse shopping blitz"

"For real? What's worse than the pre-Christmas rush?"

"Your question tells me you have never fought your way through a Black Friday" she raised an eyebrow at him, amused, taking a first sip of hot cocoa.

"God no! And I'm positive I never will" Thomas erupted into a cheerful laugh and raised his hands in surrender. 

"Ah, you're an amateur, Mr. Lawyer!" Tara teased him once more, shaking her head.

Then she took a moment to observe him, a hint of amusement and cheer still on his lips as he finally sipped his cappuccino. A perfect exemplification of what her mother would have called "a fine man" who went above and beyond to help her out through the court ordeal against Guy. The nicest and most caring man she had ever met, probably. And soon fell for as if they were meant to be from the very start.

"And I knew it was important for you" she added, her voice soft, no longer teasing.

Thomas met her gaze and gave her another smile. His face immediately brightened and softened perceiving the implication in Tara's words. It was as if the mere, veiled mention to it spread inside him that was reflected in the dreamy twinkle gleaming in his eyes that never once failed to make Tara's knees weak.

"It was. I know it's silly, I've been a single parent for a while, I should know how it works but I'm still a bit nervous when it comes to buying clothes for Luz. She's just so independent and strong-willed...and Soledad used to take care of things like this. I was too busy working and I thought she could do way better than me, you know...they were so close and-"

"Luz is close to you too, Thomas" Tara interrupted him, refraining him to dwell into such grim considerations: he gave himself too little credit and too much blame. 

"And as I was saying, I'm glad I could help. I'm sure Luz will love her surprise underneath the Christmas tree and, for the record, I think she loves you pretty much. Don't sell yourself short, you're fun to have around" she added, hoping to cheer him up a little bit.

Thomas smiled, showing that her effort had been noted and appreciated.

"I certainly hope so, Tara. I mean, both for you and Luz. I know that Luz makes a show of being the tough cynical girl but Christmas is a big thing for her. Gosh, I still remember how she used to wake up all the family when we used to spend the holidays at my parents. A little jolly banshee" he laughed softly, reminiscing the past. "She still does it though, to be honest. The first to wish everybody 'feliz Navidad' and to remind her poor father that it's time to put on lights and decorations and the tree, oh Daddy do not forget the tree! You should have seen the purest joy written all over her face when we bought it. And how thoughtful and meticulous she is about the treat for Santa. She prepares it herself every year, I can't tell if it's one last chance to get into the good ones list or because she truly loves it but nah, who am I kidding? She adores this time of the year, despite the memories that bring along...so I just can't let her down for Christmas, I just can't..."

"You won't, Thomas, I promise you" Tara reassured him, but he seemed lost in his own train of thoughts.

He made a pause and looked out of the window into the main hall. She couldn't tell whether he was pondering her words or letting his mind wander. She was about to say something when he spoke again.

"She's...everything to me, I don't know where I'd be, who I'd be now without her" his lips curled in another affectionate smile as he continued. "Mi Luz, Mi princesa...that's how I call her. Even though she hates the last one"

"How come?" Tara inquired, slightly amused but not surprised at all that her little girl's bestie would reject such a cute nickname.

"I'm not a princess, Daddy: princesses are so booooring!" Thomas explained in his best impression of Luz's voice that made the two of them laugh again.

"Well, she could be a warrior princess like Xena" she noted.

"I didn't know you were a fan" he mocked a shocked expression.

"What can I say? I am a woman full of surprises, Mr. Lawyer" she teased, shrugging.

"You are indeed"

His hand reached for hers and his thumb drew circles over her palm before he raised it to his face and placed a kiss on her knuckles, a tender smile on his lips as they brushed her skin. A simple, gentlemanly gesture filled with devotion and adoration that was rather new to Tara: she couldn't remember the last time Guy, "her wrong guy" ever did anything even close to that. That was just one of the many differences between her past and the bright future ahead.

"I can't thank you enough for coming here with me today and for well...choosing me" a light blush reddened lawyer Mendez's cheeks and there was nothing cuter in this world to Tara. Okay, maybe Zoey's sleepy smile and pouty face when she concentrated. "I wasn't expecting any of this, us to happen. After Dolores' death, I devoted myself to Luz, my luz in the dark of all the grief and sorrow and decided to give up on love. How could I love again after that? I had a beautiful, volcanic girl to look after to, to give all my love to...but then I did. When I saw you and got to know you, I did. There is nothing I could do to prevent it, I just fell in love again. I brightened up every time I spotted you, having you around makes me so happy and a better person, I think."

He sighed as if he could feel the weight of his own words. Tara instinctively stroke his cheek as if to reassure him or encourage him to keep going. He leaned gratefully to the touch before continuing.

"You and Luz are the most important people in my life. In different ways you both showed me, no taught me how to live again. To live and love again and I know I'm being sappy-"

"You're not sappy, Thomas" Tara smiled to conceal the lump forming in her throat.

"-but it's Christmas, right?" he said, gesturing at the shiny Santa's cabin and the long cue of excited kids in the main hall. "It's the right time to be sappy, living our personal Hallmark movie...so I just want you to know that I'm so happy that you are part of my life, my life and Luz's life as well"

He straightened up on his chair and leaned a bit closer across the table. Looking at Tara right in the eyes, gleaming with joy and affection he whispered:

"Te quiero con todo mi corazón, Woman of Steel"

Tara pressed one finger over his smiling lips, catching him by surprise.

"No, not Woman of Steel"

Seeing his puzzled look, she leaned closer and added:

"Your Woman of Steel, Thomas"

Then she cupped his face and claimed his lips into a hard kiss. As they kissed once, twice a jolly romantic Christmas tune played on the radio, framing their newfound happiness.

Love is how we do, let no judgment overrule it

Love I look to youx and I sing

Let love lead us, love is Christmas

Let love lead us, love is Christmas 

[edupunkn00b]

I Love You Heart and Mind Masterpost

Patton and Logan, Morality and Logic, the Heart and the Mind, were just… well. Sometimes they were peanut butter and jelly, caramel and salt, dark chocolate and strawberries. Sometimes, they were a bit like oil and water. And then there were the times they were little more than gasoline and fire.

Still, there was no-one else in the Mindscape who held a bigger piece of Patton's, well, heart. And his mind.

Logan knew his limitations. He knew the boundaries of his role and he knew what happened when his… demeanor crossed those boundaries. He knew how to handle it. What he didn't know was how to handle his growing difficulty keeping it all under control.

Especially around Patton.

Written for @tsspromptmonth‘s Sleepy Bean Fanfic Café event, for @always-anais.

Chapters - [ AO3 ]

The Mind and the Heart

Moving Back

Moving In

In a Legal Setting

Putting Your Self First

Plushies Are Rather Pleasant

We Did It!

[edupunkn00b]

I Love You Heart and Mind, Ch. 4: In a Legal Setting

Prev - In a Legal Setting - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Logan comes to a fresh conclusion in a courtroom.

Everything changed that night.

Well, perhaps that was a bit exaggerative, Logan mused as he crouched, knees to chin, in the center of his room. There, too large to fit, and too small to change, his mind replayed his failure in Patton's room.

The hurt pouring off the tenderest of them all, the crack in his voice as he pleaded with him to cease his overly harsh assessment of his lingering feelings. The diamond glitter of tears in the corners of his eyes all demonstrated to Logan the primary failing of his technique to remain grounded.

Simply—over simplistically—put, Logan's anger not only had begun to serve as a poor deterrent to his inconvenient changes in size, but was now hurting the Side least equipped to weather his rage.

Thankfully, Logan had been able to escape before any of the others noticed the stretching seams on his polo or his sloped shoulders, hunched low to make himself appear smaller. He sank down, eyes closed, Patton's expression figuratively burned into his mind.

Safe and alone in his room, he managed to tear off his eyeglasses and his clothes before they'd be ruined. Walls and ceiling pressing in against him, he struggled to control his heart.

As a distraction, Logan pushed himself into Thomas' perspective, delaying his own perceptions of the chilly air against his bare skin, the sharp poke of his desk where it dug into his shin.

The tears soaking his floor.

Both hands covering his mouth, he failed to even name what caused his sobs he couldn't stop. Guilt for hurting Patton so? Frustration that, despite his efforts, they all still remained in Patton's room? An undignified whimper squeezed past Logan's lips as he shot up further, back of his head smacking against the ceiling.

He let out a slow breath and focused again on Thomas' senses.

His chest was tight but warm, a spark of melancholic joy as he recollected that damned fishing trip with Uncle Buck. Logan saw through his eyes and the others listened.

Everyone except Patton.

"Say," he said, shoulders dancing in his warning of impending pun. "What's 'Buck' short for?"

"Ah…" Logan shivered as he experienced the stereoscopic thrill of Thomas sifting through his memories from both of their perspectives.

"'Cause he's got little legs!"

Patton's giggle came out choked—thin and forced, his sweet goofy smile failing to brighten his eyes.

"You know you don't have to do that, Patton." There was no sign Thomas was at all aware of how completely Logan had taken control of his speech.

Patton certainly wasn't. He looked back at Thomas' eyes, open and thoroughly unshielded. Was that how he looked at everyone? Vulnerable? Listening with his full heart?

"Try to... hide what you're feeling with jokes. It's okay to be sad sometimes." Logan hugged his knees to his chest and let himself imagine he was holding Patton instead.

"I'm never sad! I'm your happy Pappy Patton! Just a fun-loving father figure figment."

"Falsehood." Spoken in Thomas' voice, Logan's correction came out far gentler than he could have ever managed on his own.

"You said yourself," Patton argued back. "I'm at the core of a lot of your happy feelings."

"You're at the core of a lot of hi—my feelings... Happy or otherwise." Logan watched Patton carefully, waiting to see if he'd caught the slip. He looked too busy trying not to cry to have noticed. Logan's heart clenched.

"When I was younger, my uncle used to take me fishing… and I HATED it. It was boring, throwing the living fish in the cooler upset me... There was no escape for them or for me. On the boat, I was stranded with miles of H2-Open water in every direction…"

Logan smiled to himself when Patton huffed out a tiny laugh at the pun. Eyes screwed shut, he rested his head against the door jam and slowly let slip his hold on Thomas' speech.

By the time the others made motions to return, Logan had shrunk enough to dress. He appeared in his spot just in time for their return.

Along with the fuzzy hoodie he'd intended to give Patton on his birthday.

Patton took to wearing his gift as a proper sweater whenever they were off camera. The first morning Logan came downstairs and saw him, sturdy blue apron tied tightly around his waist, plush sleeves rolled up, Logan could barely manage a few words before the warmth in his chest grew too large and his collar tightened until he couldn't speak. He excused himself with a gesture and a wave.

Eventually, Logan strengthened his ability to maintain his composure and the pair began to spend most quiet mornings together. Logan would loiter in the kitchen, sipping his coffee. Eventually, the his control grew and they'd stand side by side, mixing and chopping and blending together.

Everything had changed.

So much so that Logan had begun a new project, a personal project. Hunched over his desk, favorite pen in hand, he worked to plot out different tactics he might use to begin to reveal his core problem to Patton.

Gradually, Patton had begun to listen to him like none of the others did. He did not always completely understand, but was always willing to try. Perhaps sharing this difficulty with him could reveal some new insight into how Logan could better manage his condition.

At the very least, Logan hoped to finally explain the increasingly loud and caustic outbursts he used to prevent his literal growth spurts from interfering with their videos.

Thoughts churning, his pen wandered across the page and when Logan next looked down, he deciphered a familiar verse.

…love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

Smiling, Logan copied out the rest of the sonnet by memory. He'd nearly finished the final phrase when he felt the summons. With just enough time to think, he grabbed the first book he saw so he wouldn't appear before Thomas with his personal planner—and the sonnet—in view.

He rose up in the witness bench of a large, wood-paneled courtroom. Roman sat next to him in a gleaming white judge's robe, sash cut across it. Blood red. Virgil was a juror, a sharp tie over a long sleeved black shirt similar to his. Virgil's hoodie topped it off.

Patton's did not. His gift, his ever-present cat hoodie was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a three-piece suit.

Logan fought not to stare at him. "You guys are doing a courtroom scenario... without me?" No-one had insisted he be part of this exercise? None of them? Not even… He dragged his eyes away from the bright blue tie so perfectly knotted at Patton's collar and shoved his sour hurt into a tiny steel box in his chest. "Unacceptable."

He let their explanations wash over him as he played his role. Facts and information. Logic. That was all he needed in this moment.

It was all any of them needed from him.

J—Deceit carried on. "I feel like 'which event could cost us more to miss?' is a less interesting question than... 'which event has more to offer us?' Don't you?"

"I don't feel anything," Logan said. Irritation, perhaps. Frustration and annoyance. Those are mere sensation, not a feeling.

Deceit continued his argument and Logan only half-listened to his own responses. It was in his nature to rattle off the details he retained.

"There's always room for me," he said. There should be, at least. It was simple oversight that they hadn't included him sooner.

I don't feel anything.

Deceit smiled back at him. "I know, that's what I said, but Patton insisted we leave you alone. "

Patton said that? Logan wasn't certain if he'd actually spoken aloud. He watched his objection, waiting for an actual denial, waiting for any sort of evidence that J—Deceit had lied.

But Logan knew Deceit didn't always lie. He only got to decide when their truths could be revealed.

I don't feel anything.

Logan fumbled through the rest of the hearing, facts at the ready as a bright hot coal burned in the center of his chest. He was getting sloppy, soon these metaphors might take root. Or they would if anyone listened long enough to him. Eventually the hearing was done, Roman's judgement passed and, numb, Logan slipped back to his room.

His personal planner still sat open on his desk, foolhardy plans taunting him. A waste of paper and ink.

He picked up his pen and crossed out all but the final two lines of the sonnet.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Then he closed the book and crawled into bed.

I don't feel anything.

[edupunkn00b]

I Love You Heart and Mind, Ch. 1: The Mind and the Heart

The Mind and the Heart - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

This chapter takes place around the time of The Mind vs. the Heart. - Rated: G, WC: 2093 -

Zipped up and purrfectly cozy in his fuzzy cat onesie, Patton refilled his hot cocoa and settled back into his cookie corner sofa. Fresh from the oven, two chocolate chip cookies sat cooling on the side table. Hoodie drawn down over his head and a blanket pulled up over his lap, he bowed his head and breathed in the steamy, chocolately goodness in his hands. This was exactly what he needed.

The past few months had been… Well, alone in his room, Patton could safely admit the past few months had been rough. Not that anything really bad had been happening in Thomas' life. In fact, with friends and videos and plays filling his days, everything had been going super-dee-duper for him.

The problem had been, well, Logan.

Okay, Patton thought to himself, sipping his cocoa. Logan himself wasn't the problem. The problem was what happened any time he and Logan were in the same room.

"Hey there, Logan!" Patton had cheered, grinning over his shoulder when the Logical Side had stumbled, bleary eyed, into the kitchen last week. Patton held up a stack of still-steaming chocolate-banana pancakes with a smile. "Are you hungry?" He carefully wiggled the spatula to help make the sweet scent waft through the air. "Hot off the griddle just for your hot grill…" His voice fell away at Logan's confused frown.

"I do not own a grill, Patton," he'd said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Of any temperature."

"Oh, yeah, I know that…" Patton slowly lowered the spatula. "I just meant—"

"Furthermore, if I were hungry for breakfast, I am confident a more nutrient-dense meal would be more appropriate, perhaps something with protein and a little more fiber."

Keeping his smile, Patton plated the pancakes and turned off the stove. Maybe Roman or Anxiety might like them later. "Right you are, Logan!" he cheered. "You know I can make you anything you like. Eggs or…"

Logan frowned, that little crease between his eyebrows growing deeper. "I… I require nothing more than a simple cup of black coffee, Patton." He opened the cupboard and pulled down the mug Patton had given him last Christmas. Fingertips tracing its now-invisible glow-in-the-dark stars, he turned to Patton. "But… thank you, Patton."

Patton had felt his smile waver so he busied himself at the sink. "Of course," he'd said, turning on the water to hide the quiver in his voice. "Open offer!"

It was even worse when Thomas was around.

Patton had popped up as soon as he heard Thomas talking to his good buddy Pedro on the phone. Pedro's been having such a bad time with his roommates, Thomas was sure to need a little hand managing all the feelings that came with his vent sessions.

"Moving, huh?" Thomas smiled, looking relieved.

Patton tucked himself into a seat next to him on the couch. Oh, thank goodness! Pedro was getting a new place! And all the better if he needed a little help from Thomas! "Do it! They're such a good friend, you gotta be a good friend too."

Logan didn't agree, popping up, lips pursed in his 'very serious' face. "Don't do it! You already have two things going on that day and three the next day. You need optimal sleep and rest."

Thomas looked between them, phone still pressed to his ear. This wouldn't do at all.

Shooting Logan a look, he'd slid closer to Thomas. "They'd do the same for you," he'd reminded him.

Arms crossed over his chest, Logan shook his head. "You don't have the time."

The argument only got more heated after that. And if that had been the only time, Patton might have been less worried.

Beckoned by a wave of fuzzy, bubbly good feelings from Thomas, Patton had popped up into the living room, already smiling. "Look at all these cute dogs!" Thomas had cooed, his face the personification of the little pleading eyes emoji.

Caught up in the feeling and his mind filling with images of tiny puppies and big fluffers bounding up and down the stairs, Patton burst out, "Adopt them!"

Thomas stared at him. "What?"

"You need to adopt them!" He pointed to the screen where it showed one of the puppies had been at the shelter for over a month. "Who knows what might happen if you don't adopt them?" Logan would know, that's who. Where was he? Maybe he should summon him. "And they need a good home!" Oh and Thomas would be such a good doggie daddy! He'd be just like him!

"You are not going to adopt an animal." Logan didn't even look at Patton when he appeared.

And Thomas was listening. "Oh?"

"Do you have the time for one, let alone multiple, dogs?" Words clipped and expression stern, Logan threw darts right into Patton's plans. "Are you here in this house enough to give it the attention and love that it needs?

Lava pushed up out of his mouth and he shouted at Logan, "What do you even know about love?!"

Those had been his calmest words that night. Passions flying, Patton couldn't even remember everything he'd said. All he could remember was Logan's stiff frown and the way he'd stood taller and taller, as though straightening his posture might protect him from the onslaught.

It had taken Logan three days to come out of his room again. A week before he'd meet Patton's eyes.

Patton looked down at the mug he still cradled in his hands. He'd let it get cold again. Popping up to refresh it with a little hot water from the kettle, Patton stirred and sipped, waiting for the drink's warmth to spread from his belly to his chest.

This really was all pointless. Logan was right. Feeling this way, feeling this way for him was… pointless. It was only hurting everyone, most of all—

Patton felt the tug half a breath before rising up in Thomas' living room.

"What?" he asked dumbly, glancing quickly at the camera before sneaking a swipe at the wetness in his eyes.

Thomas seemed just as surprised as Patton that he'd been able to summon him. And after Thomas explained why he'd called him, Patton kinda hoped it hadn't actually worked.

Logan popped up just as quickly as he had… And, also just as he had, appeared wearing his onesie, soft blue tie looped over the top of it just like Patton had tied his cardigan over his onesie's shoulders.

Patton grinned, the tiny connection giving his heart a little boost. Between their identical glasses and the polo he'd picked to match with Logan's own style, their corrdinating outfits warmed Patton more than all the onesies in the world ever could.

The moment soon passed, though, and before Patton really understood, he found himself spiraling into an argument with Logan over… Whether or not they should talk to Thomas? What was he doing? There was no way Logan actually thought it was a waste of time to listen to Thomas' feelings, was there?

Caught between disbelief and a hollow ache in the center of his chest at Logan's harsh dismissal, Patton scolded when he should have listened, pushed when he should have followed, every minute, growing more and more insistent until finally Thomas had to show them the woven thread connecting them.

Smiling at Logan's newly calm face—and the bright glow he always got when he learned some new factoid or tidbit—Patton sank down and changed back into his onesie. Instead of retreating to his room, though, to bask in the cozy warmth of how their… discussion had ended, he loitered in the Mindscape common room. Was he hoping Logan might do the same?

Maaaaaybe.

"Oh… Patton."

He grinned when his tiny unvoiced wish came true. "Hiya, Logan!"

Logan looked around the room, hood pulled up on his alicorn onesie, wings dancing with every gesture. He hugged his new Trivial Pursuit book close to his chest and Patton had to shake away the question of whether or not you could be jealous of a book.

"I…" Logan began carefully. "I planned to do a little more reading. Would…" He offered Patton a tight smile.

Patton was already nodding. Whatever Logan wanted was his.

Logan's smile grew, just a little. "Would it be acceptable to you if I were to read in here… with you?"

"Definitely!" Patton replied, a little louder than he'd intended. "Oops," he laughed, briefly covering his mouth. "I'll let you read," he said in a quieter voice.

Logan watched him over the top of his book for a moment before lowering it with another tiny smile. "I do not require silence to read this book."

"Thanks!" Patton giggled and hugged himself, hands covered his the paw-sleeves. "I'm glad you changed back, too," he said, matching Logan's little smile with his own grin. "These things are just so soft and secure."

Was he just imagining Logan's cheeks pinked when he looked up from his book? He definitely didn't imagine the way Logan's smile grew just a little larger. "You're very correct."

Relishing the light behind that rare soft smile, Patton nodded. "Always the best for taking a little nap..."

Logan chuckled, "Don't you mean a little cat nap?"

Patton's mouth hung open. "Did you just make a dad joke?"

He tried to deny it but a tiny bit of him looked… pleased Patton had caught it so quickly. "Um... no. I did not mean to—"

His heart soared. "I am so proud!" he shouted, happy bubbled popping in his chest.

Panic washed over Logan's face and he shook his head. "Please don't be proud..." He shifted in place, like he couldn't decide whether to sink out or not. "Or tell anyone."

The fear in Logan's eyes cut Patton's happy squeal short. "Oh, Logan, no, I—"

Eyes wide and tugging at his tie, Logan sank out of the room. A thud from Logan's room shook the ceiling just a few seconds later.

"Logan!" Patton cried. He tried to sink down, to follow him, but Logan had locked him out. If Patton wanted to see him, he'd have to do it on foot. "Logan, I'm sorry," he called, running up the stairs. He stopped in front of Logan's door, hand hovering above the doorknob. "Logan?" he said again, mouth close to the door to better be heard through the solid wood. He heard movement inside, the sound of Logan's chair being shoved aside, the squeak of his bedframe. Finally, he knocked. "Logan? Logan, I'm so sorry. Can I come in?"

"No!" Logan roared from inside his room. The door shook on its hinges, hallway floor rumbling under Patton's feet. "We can discuss this later!" he said, only slightly quieter this time.

"Please, Logan," Patton said, leaning close to the door. "Don't leave things like this, I—"

"Leave me be, Morality!" he warned, another heavy thud coming from inside the room.

Eyes burning, Patton stepped back. He fiddled with his onesie paws and watched the shadow just under Logan's door. "O—okay, Logi—" He couldn't make his mouth form the title. Not here. It had been hard enough in front of Thomas, but here? In their hallway, his own room just steps away? No. Here, he was more than just formal logic and cold knowledge. Here he was Logan.

"I'll be in my room," he said, plush-covered hand brushing down the door. "Y'know… if… if you need me?" He listened, waiting, hoping Logan might change his mind and let him in so they could talk this out without letting it fester. When Logan's door remained shut, Patton nodded to himself and made his way into his own room.

~

Head bowed with his knees tucked up to his chin, Logan listened as Patton's quiet footsteps finally retreated, leaving him alone. With a sigh, he shivered and the back of his head scraped against his ceiling light, cracking the glass light shade. Damn. He'd need to repair that.

His alicorn onesie lay in salty wet tatters on the floor beneath him and he was fairly certain he'd broken at least two of the casters on his desk chair. At least the reinforcements he'd made to his bed seemed to have served their purpose. Perhaps he could convince Remus he required similar structural improvements be made to his desk and chair for… extracurricular activities.

Later. For now, he needed to focus on calming down. Until he could recenter himself and reduce his size by at least three fold, he must stay remain where he was.

[edupunkn00b]

I Love You Heart and Mind, Ch. 2: Moving Back

Prev - I Love You Heart and Mind - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Logan develops new ways to… divert his emotional reactions and avoid repeated instances of his physical transformations.

"E equals MC scared!" Logan shouted, pushing his growing—and his growing—fear at the entire situation into a virtual box in his chest. Like Sherlock's mind palace, he'd found it a useful mental mechanism in, well, situations such as these. Sealed tight with a heavy chain wrapped around it, the inner box heaved and sizzled, searing hot when he thought too much about it or tried to examine it, but…

He took a careful breath. Only an infinitesimal tightening around his collar and the room appeared to be essentially the same size it had been when they'd first arrived.

It worked!

Continuing his explanation of their presence and the job ahead, Logan avoided Patton's eyes. Amplified under the influence of Anxiety's room, tender Patton was caught in the figurative grip of his arachnophobia, the fear overpowering his own thinking until an artistic rendering of the dreaded arthropods threatened to push him closer to the actual spiders hiding in the cobwebs littering the rest of the space.

Logan eyed the unusually large Argiope aurantia working to repair the damage his own sudden appearance next to the banister had caused. He ignored Patton's request to switch positions and wordlessly willed Roman and Thomas to do the same. Patton was safer in his current position, even if his fear did not permit him to recognize it.

But even this intellectual understanding was insufficient to fight the draw of his plaintive requests, so Logan struggled to force his attention away from the Heart's shuddering fear. They had a task ahead and, once they'd convinced Anxiety of his enduring importance, they would all be able to leave.

~

Over the following months, Logan encountered additional opportunities to refine this new technique for emotional control. And, to varying degrees, his fellow Sides aided in this effort. Roman was rarely a genuine obstacle, his own emotional outbursts almost comically simple to reframe as annoyances. Expressions of irritation at the Princely Side, even when not all could honestly be characterized as provoked, provided Logan a useful outlet, a metaphorical steam valve of sorts.

Virgil’s typical dry sarcasm was similarly easy to allow to slip by unprocessed. He rarely triggered a true emotional reaction and the anxious Side’s need for calm, steady handling engendered itself to calm, steady responses.

The Others were such infrequent features in Logan’s days that their presence consumed him with curiosity, effortlessly pushing aside all other feelings.

And then there was Patton.

As Thomas’ Heart, Patton’s demeanor was a study in the vagaries of human emotional expression. Also, as Thomas’ Heart, Patton’s moods were remarkably transferrable to the other Sides, none more, it seemed than to him, Thomas’ Mind. Patton’s joy sparked a palpable warmth in the center of Logan’s chest, his laughter almost literally musical to his ears. It was challenging to resist an incomprehensible urge to join in, even when he did not know or understand the source of Patton’s mirth.

Equally, Patton’s sadness cut him deep in his core, sending a raw ache through his nerves that was difficult to ignore.

There appeared to be a visual element to the phenomenon. His empathetic reactions to Patton’s emotions were unlike other happenings in the Mindscape of which Logan was aware even when he was not witness to them. Roman’s—and Remus’—creative efforts registered in his mind regardless of where either twin was working. Virgil’s anxious spirals reached him from every spot in the Mindscape. It appeared, however, that Logan needed to visually—or auditorially—perceive Patton’s emotional expressions in order to feel them for himself.

Logan had also noted the other Sides did not appear to experience or otherwise be aware of the phenomenon, a finding he tucked away for eventual analysis. To be fully honest, Logan was in no rush to uncover the cause of the other Sides’ obliviousness. Their inattention had served him well in his attempts to conceal his more physical responses to his own overpowering emotions.

It seemed, in this instance at least, that the less the other Sides knew, the better.

“Good morning, Patton.”

For not the first time that week, Logan stepped into the kitchen in search of his morning coffee and discovered Patton staring out the window, lacidaisically stirring something sticky and sweet-smelling in a big metal bowl. On most previous mornings, Patton would greet him with a cheery smile and a boisterous salutation before he’d even gotten both feet on the linoleum tiled floor. Lately, though, Patton appeared so lost in thought it took spoken words or even a soft touch to break him of his reverie.

With any other Side, Logan would hesitate to initiate physical contact without express permission, however Patton’s frequent and spontaneous group hugs left Logan feeling slightly more comfortable reaching for him on his own accord. “Good morning, Patton,” he said again, lightly letting his hand rest on Patton’s shoulder.

He started, turning to Logan with a wide smile. Then Patton looked down at the bowl instead of meeting his eyes. “Oh, hiya, Logan! I didn’t hear you come in!” Still grinning, he lifted the bowl of a batter that appeared more chocolate chip than any other ingredient. “I was going to sneak a little batch of cookies into the oven before breakfast,” he said before giving the bowl one more stir. “Caught me bowl-handed!” he laughed, loudly.

If Patton was laughing, why did Logan’s eyes burn?

Logan dropped his hand before crossing his arms as though that might hold back the tightening he felt around his waist and throat. “I would recommend starting with a more balanced approach to the morning meal. Though… the batter does smell rather entic—”

“I’ve got it!” Roman cried, leaping into the kitchen and tearing the bowl from of Patton’s hands.

Patton blinked up at Roman, confusion pulling his expression down into a little frown.

Until the brainstorm hit them all.

A variety of stringed instruments played in the background, a rousing harmony crescendoing as a vision of Thomas and his last boyfriend appeared before them. Dressed in Roman’s tunic knelt down on one knee before him. Arm outstretched, he offered his ex a giant golden key tied with a red bow. “Mi amore! You’ve always held the key to my heart!” he cried, his other hand pressed to his chest. Suddenly, the music swelled and he broke into song. “Let’s go back to the way things used to be! Can’t you see we were always meant to be?”

“Whatcha doin’ there, Kiddo?” Patton asked, smile stretched so wide Logan could see his molars.

Logan had thought only Remus could do that.

The illusion fell away and Roman sat cross-legged on the floor, the key cradled in his lap. “I know if I can come up with a good enough idea, I can find a way for Thomas to win back his heart.”

“Really, Roman… Is this wise?” Logan frowned, fists tight at his sides. “That breakup was—”

“Do you really think it could work?” Barely louder than a whisper, Patton’s voice struck him, shattering Logan's remaining arguments. His face held such hope, smile wavering now, but soft and open. Still reeling from Roman’s brainstorm, Logan couldn’t shake the image of a blossom opening to the sun.

Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness.

Logan shook his head again as Roman smiled, taking Patton’s hand. “Come, Padre… Let’s go to the Imagination. I have so many more ideas.”

“Okay,” Patton nodded, still smiling. “If you’re sure.”

Logan closed his eyes and screamed, lips and throat closed. Silent. Neither noticed how tight his tie had gotten.

“I do miss him," Patton said, voice wistful. "Thomas misses him.”

“I know, Padre,” Roman said, stepping through a fresh portal to the Imagination. “We all do.”

The dull ache in Logan’s chest did not leave with them when the portal closed. He poured himself a cup of coffee and returned to his room, the muted echoes of Roman’s plans reverberating through the Mindscape.

[edupunkn00b]

I Love You Heart and Mind

Chapters: 1/7 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders Characters: Morality | Patton Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders, Thomas Sanders (Video Blogging RPF), Character!Thomas Additional Tags: canonverse, Takes place throughout the series, time skip‚ you say?, logicality - Freeform, eventually, giant, okay‚ canonverse with a twist, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Logan looks like a total asshole in the first part of chapter 1, then you get to find out what's really going on, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, alternating pov Summary:

Patton and Logan, Morality and Logic, the Heart and the Mind, were just… well. Sometimes they were peanut butter and jelly, caramel and salt, dark chocolate and strawberries. Sometimes, they were a bit like oil and water. And then there were the times they were little more than gasoline and fire.

Still, there was no-one else in the Mindscape who held a bigger piece of Patton's, well, heart. And his mind.

Logan knew his limitations. He knew the boundaries of his role and he knew what happened when his… demeanor crossed those boundaries. He knew how to handle it. What he didn't know was how to handle his growing difficulty keeping it all under control.

Especially around Patton.

Written for @tsspromptmonth‘s Sleepy Bean Fanfic Café event, for @always-anais.

New chapters daily. Chapter 1 on Tumblr.

[edupunkn00b]

Taking Care of You

Written for @tsspromptmonth's Sleepy Bean Fanfic Cafe for @brainlicking. Prompt: Magic au with vampires, darkly romantic tone, Virgil/Patton ship, hiding a fatal injury, only one bed but the one bed is a coffin. - Rated M - WC: 3806

Since their beginning, Patton had spoiled Virgil rotten. Homemade cookies every birthday. Horror movie marathons on their anniversary. 'I won't be too scared as long as you stay close.' Tinctures and luck charms when he got anxious about a gallery opening.

Soft lips and firm, gentle hands anytime he needed extra affection.

None of it was one-sided, either. Virgil took care of Patton, too. Sitting up with him for two days straight after his parents died, drying his tears and holding him tight after he'd finally drifted off to sleep. Helping him move in to the big old house in the woods his parents had left him. Staying with him until after he'd finished all the cleansing rituals.

So there was little surprise when, the night of his attack, Virgil had found himself staggering up to Patton's doorstep, blood-sticky fingers clutching the wounds at his neck. He'd just managed to brush against the doorbell when he dropped to the hand-woven mat in a heap. He was out before Patton could even answer the door.

Patton later told him how he'd dressed his wounds and changed him out of his torn and blood-soaked clothes. "Your skin was so cold," he'd whispered, warm fingers curled through his hair. "But you were still breathing, so I bundled you up and stayed close."

Unmoving and barely breathing, Virgil had slept for three days and three nights. When the sun had set at the start of the fourth night, Virgil was woken by the sound of Patton's heart pounding in his ears. The hot, salty scent of blood heavy in the air. Wrapped in the glorious heat of Patton's arms and only barely conscious, Virgil had mouthed weakly at the bit of flesh peeking out from the collar of his fluffy sweater.

A sharp canine grazing against his own tongue broke the spell long enough for Virgil to flee. He pushed himself out of Patton's embrace and out of the room. As he leapt over the banister to the floor below, he tried to convince himself he couldn't hear Patton calling him over the sound of his own ragged breathing.

Barefoot and clad in borrowed pajamas and a hoodie too short for his frame, Virgil didn't stop running until the dawn cut its bright pink gash along the horizon. He spent his first full day as a vampire hiding from the sun on the edges of a junkyard downtown.

Two years passed before Virgil had gained enough control to risk seeing him again.

It was winter again, and the early dusk granted him a better chance of seeing Patton outside, gathering birch bark or syrup. Or maybe even filling the racoon feeders for the night. After only a few hours tucked into the crook of a large yew, carefully upwind of the house and the salted caramel scent of his old love, Virgil was soon rewarded for his patience. A puff of steam followed Patton as he bounced down the path, empty bucket in hand. He whistled to himself and, likely, in warning to any of the more skittish night creatures who might have begun to creep out of the daytime refuges.

Like him.

When Patton was a dozen paces or so away, Virgil stood and spoke from the shadows. "Pat?" he called into the night.

Patton jumped at the sudden sound, pounding heart deafening to Virgil's ears. It slowed quickly, though, as he turned, peering into the darkness. "Vee?" he asked, voice shaking. But not in fear. He sounded… hopeful. "Vee, is that you?"

Virgil stepped out from under the yew's boughs and into the thin moonlight above. "It's me, Pat."

"You came back," he said simply, setting down the pail and stepping closer.

The wind shifted, filling Virgil's lungs with sugar and sage, earth and blood. Shuddering, he nodded. "I… I hope that's alright. I can… I can go."

"Don't you dare, Mister!" Patton marched forward, arms outstretched. He stopped just shy of touching him. "Is it alright if I hug you?" he asked, softer.

"Y—you want to?" Hands shoved in his overcoat pockets, Virgil fought the instinct to grab him and pull him close and… But it wasn't blood lust pushing forward. Afraid of his own hunger, he'd fed as soon as the sky grew dark. He didn't need to feed. He needed his love in his arms again.

"Of course I do!" Closing the distance, Patton fell into his arms, squeezing him tight with that old unexpected strength. "I've missed you so much, Vee."

He held him stiffly at first, but as the heat of Patton's body soaked into his skin, Virgil curled over him, opening his coat and wrapping it around both of them. "I… I can't keep you warm," he murmured into his hair. Patton's breath, his touch burned, warming him to the core. Virgil didn't want to think about how uncomfortable his own ice-cold skin must feel to him.

But Patton smiled up at him, cheeks reddened with the cold and tears sparkling in his eyelashes. He took Virgil's hand and pressed it against his own chest. "You keep me warm right here." Drawing closer, Patton reached up with his other hand and cupped Virgil's cheek.

Unable to resist the heat of his palm, Virgil let his eyes fall closed and covered Patton's hot hand with his own. Frigid lips grazed the bared skin between Patton's gloves and sleeve. Pulse point throbbing beneath paper-thin skin. Head bowed and shaking, Virgil pressed a slow kiss against wrist. The barest tip of his tongue darted out, seared against Patton's flesh, but he kept his teeth safely behind his lips.

Patton never moved away. Virgil opened his eyes, bracing himself for the expected frozen terror in Patton's face. Instead he smiled up at him.

"You're not afraid of me?" Virgil whispered.

"Of course not," Patton said said as though no other answer was even possible. Letting go of only one hand, he stooped to pick up the still-empty pail and threaded their fingers together. He gave his hand a little tug. "Will you come ho—come inside with me?"

Nodding, Virgil let himself be led back to Patton's house.

~

Patton had left the heavy door on the latch, just as he always used to. As he pushed it open with one hand, cozy firelight, the scents of drying herbs and simmering soup spilled out into the dark night. Virgil paused on the doorstep, tracing the rust-colored stained bell in its frame. And the protections runes carved into its shape.

Following his gaze, Patton hummed and reached out his hand, "You needn't worry," he said. "It's safe for you to come in, it always has been."

Virgil accepted his hand and closed his eyes before stepping inside. Patton spoke the truth. "How long have you known?" he finally asked. A vampire did not simply saunter into a mage's home on the technicality of an open invitation, let alone a mage as skilled as Patton.

Stomping the snow from his boots, Patton shrugged, thoughtful. "Really, as… as soon as I saw you that night." He watched Virgil loosen his scarf, the immortal scars clearly visible just below his jaw. "There are scarce other ways to get puncture wounds like that. And…" He looked down then, straightening their boots over the fireplace grate. "You still had you sire's blood on your mouth," he added slowly. "There was no question you would turn."

"But if… if you knew…" Virgil's head swam and he fumbled with the collar of his overcoat. Patton surged forward, gently disentangling him from the damp wool. "Pat, when I woke, you were in my arms. If you knew I'd turn…" With his thumb and forefinger, he nudged up Patton's chin so he'd meet his eyes. "Why would you put yourself in danger like that?"

"Oh, Vee." Smiling, Patton lowered his head and kissed Virgil's fingers before meeting his eyes again. "I knew you couldn't hurt me, besides…" he said with a little shrug as he peeled off his coat. "You needed someone to take care of you. Oh—" Hugging the coat to his chest in one arm, Patton brushed his hand down Virgil's back. "You're wearing my hoodie."

Turning, Virgil held Patton's hand to his still heart and nodded. "I… I was wearing it when…" Patton's eyes shone, glossy with tears. Virgil didn't realize he was also crying until Patton reached up and brushed away a tear from his face.

"I'm glad you kept it."

"You kept me warm," Virgil whispered.

As though suddenly feeling the frigid damp from his coat, Patton stroked his cheek and quickly hung the sopping wool by the fire. Then he took Virgil's hand and pulled him to the foot of the stairs. "I have something to show you."

Patton brought him to his bedroom. "You've… made some changes."

Nodding, Patton looked proudly around the room. Where once the big poster bed had dominated the space, it was now pushed into one corner, just under the window. Patton had brought up the long wooden table from the dining room, as well as several bookcases from various parts of the house. Every surface was covered with potions and vials and the supplies of his craft. A heavy, ancient tome lay open in the center of the table, a basket of scrolls sat underneath. Fragrant herbs hung drying from the windows and only slightly overpowered by the heavy, wet smell of fungi media.

"I've made it my workshop," Patton pulled him closer to a large flask left bubbling over a heat source Virgil couldn't identify. "A few of these require… frequent monitoring. And I—" He shrugged and looked up at Virgil, blood blooming just under his skin as he blushed. "I slept better being able to keep watch."

"What are you…" One end of the table was consumed by a detailed map of the entire region, held flat with Patton's ritual candles and a heavy crystal wrapped in a braided cord. The map was covered in tiny, dated marks. "You've been scrying for me," he said more than asked.

Patton's hand hovered over the crystal, its energy buzzing through the air. He nodded.

Then Virgil's eyes fell on the open page of the grimoire. To sceald a vampyre, Þu þearfast mod and garleac. Virgil stepped back, dropping Patton's hand. "Are you… are you trying to cure me?"

Eyes wide and mouth falling open into a little 'oh,' Patton shook his head. He rushed forward and grasped Virgil's hand in both of his, gently tugging him closer to the table. "No! No, I don't want to change you," he said, pointing to the Old English. "I want to keep you safe. It's protection charm. For you," he added.

"For me?" Virgil repeated dumbly. "Not… against me?"

"Never," Patton whispered. "It'll help hide you from Hunters." He shook his head again and drew closer. "I don't want to change you, just… take care of you."

Virgil's arms wrapped around him almost automatically and Patton looked up at him, breath sweet and hot as it fanned over his face. Patton's heartbeat filled the silence, thrumming against Virgil's chest as he closed the final distance between them. Face turned up, Patton licked his lips, tiny pink tongue darting out. "Kiss me?" he whispered.

"I—" Every reason why he shouldn't, every sensible thought about keeping his distance from the soft, living warmth of his skin and flesh and blood was pushed away by those whispered words. A soft growl pushed up from his throat and Patton surged up to meet him. Patton's fingers—gloriously burning hot fingers—threaded behind Virgil's neck and pulled him down into a kiss.

~

Patton had never given up hope, but to be honest, when the bright colors of autumn had turned cold and wet with winter for the second year, his hope of ever seeing Virgil again had begun to grow terribly thin. Tracking his movements with the crystal, seeing him move from day to day helped to reassure him his love was still alive… well vapirically alive, at least. It hurt to see him never come closer than a few miles. But even in the dark that awful night, he'd seen the terror in Virgil's eyes as he'd pushed him away. He knew Virgil wasn't staying away because he wanted to. Merely because he thought he had to.

So Patton had held on to his hope, and poured his worry and his love into finding a way to try to keep him safe, to try to take care of him even from afar. Once he'd perfected the charm, he planned to take his map and seek Virgil out. But for all his hope, he'd never dared dream that Virgil would return to him first.

Skin cold as stone but as soft as ever, Virgil was finally here, in his arms. Tears salted their kiss, and Virgil trembled against him. Patton held him closer, relishing the familiar taste of his mouth, tracing the sharp edges of his new teeth. Far too quickly, Virgil gently broke away, his first shaky smile of the night curling up his lips.

"Will you stay?" For the night, for his life, for as long as Virgil wanted, that's what Patton wanted, too.

Long, cool fingers carded through his hair. "I… I need certain things," he muttered, bowing his head until their foreheads touched. "I… I would need…"

"You'll need to feed," Patton said plainly. "And you'll need a coffin at night," Patton nodded, grinning when Virgil looked back at him with surprise. "With soil from… well," he glanced outside. "From here."

"But how—" Together, their eyes fell on the old grimoire Patton had bartered for from the wizened couple on the other edge of the woods. "Oh."

"Will you stay?" Patton asked again, hope bubbling in his chest at the return of Virgil's smile.

He answered him with a kiss.

~

Patton's days soon fell into a pattern. All through that winter and for much of the spring, he would sleep when Virgil slept, then wake at the first owl's hoot of the evening. Most days, hungry days, Virgil insisted he slept alone, but some days… Those days after good nights when he'd found enough willing and generous to share a bit of their blood. Or hunting nights when Virgil found someone whose only goal was to hurt others, those days Virgil would open his arms and invite Patton to sleep with him.

As summer approached and the days grew longer, even those glorious times left Patton restless partway through Virgil's slumber and he would spend part of the day working on his potions. The protection charm worked flawlessly, rendering Virgil nearly undetectable to Hunters until he was safely out of their range. He had several new ideas to try, and the long, sunny days granted him plenty of time to both rest and work, researching, gathering herbs, crushing and mixing.

It had been a particularly productive day and Patton was startled by the owl outside his window. He'd never managed to make his way to bed. With a little laugh, he chewed some ginseng for a boost, then raced down to the cellar to greet Virgil when he woke.

"'Morning, Moonlight," he murmured, cool hands soothing over his sunburned cheeks. He'd spent a several hours hunting for green sunflower seeds and his face bore the proof.

"Good morning, love," Patton whispered back, leaning in for a kiss.

Sitting up, Virgil pressed his face into Patton's curls. "You've been outside today. You smell like the sun."

The longing in Virgil's voice was unmistakable and Patton held him tighter. "I've been working on something. A surprise for you, if it works."

"You always have the best surprises," he murmured, lips close to his ear. Virgil's head dipped lower, cool breath against his neck. A low growl rumbled in his chest and he pushed back, trembling. "I… I need—"

Giving Virgil a bit more space, Patton nodded but still offered his hand to help him up. "I'll be here when you return."

Virgil stared at his hand, moonlight glinting off the hint of teeth behind parted lips. He accepted the help, then dashed upstairs and outside.

Patton watched him go, then slowly followed him out of the cellar and to the kitchen. He made himself breakfast then returned to his work. The seeds were ready and so was he, gathering the remaining roots and the chanterelles he'd kept in quarantine under his bed. This potion took a careful hand and precise measurements, both in the preparation and to keep the draught safe and palatable for Virgil.

If the grimoire was right, the Sun's Dew would grant Virgil the time in the sun he so clearly craved.

Mind on his task and heart out in the woods, seeking a meal, Patton sprinkled the hulled seeds into his cauldron. He counted as they fell, then set down the mortar to press what remained.

He'd miscounted.

The potion bubbled, foam rising up to the lip of the cauldron and spilling out onto the table. Patton moved quickly to sop up the hot broth but the mixture was faster. It touched the flask of birchwood and exploded.

~

Sun kissed and still warm from the summer's day, Patton smelled of ginseng and fire and life. Blood thundered in his veins, a taste Virgil wished he could forget. A few desperate nights, when he'd returned weakened and starved from an unsuccessful hunt, he'd succumbed to sweet Patton's freely given flesh. Succumbed to his need and drank. He didn't feed much from him, more often than he should, less often than he longed to. Far less often Patton offered.

But this was a lucky—if short—night and Virgil escaped temptation. After several hours and with the scent of dawn in the air, he was finally sated by a common hunter he'd been tracking for three long weeks. Long enough to know with certainty the earth would not miss the tread of his boots on her soil.

Nor would his battered wife.

Virgil raced the sun home, crossing the threshold just as the first birdsong flitted out from the lake. He closed the door behind him with a sigh, greeting Patton's relieved smile with a laugh. "Yes, I know I cut that a little too close for comfort," he said, moving to his side once he'd finished drawing the long, heavy curtains over the front room's windows.

Patton blinked up at him with tired eyes, already dressed for bed. "You'll be more careful next time?"

Virgil nodded solemnly. "You have my word," he murmured, drawing his love close. He froze at Patton's tiny wince. "Have I hurt you?"

"No! No, of course not," Patton smiled, easing into the embrace. "I'm a little stiff from hunching over my workbench." They stood quietly together, listening to the whip-poor-wills outside.

With the warmth of the sun in his arms, his recent feed thrumming through his veins, Virgil hummed, a peace he'd been missing finally clicking into place. His head grew heavy and he rested his cheek against the top of Patton's head.

"You must be tired," Patton whispered, his own voice fatigued. "Would it be alright if I joined you tonight?"

"Please," Virgil murmured back, head bowed to meet his eyes. Sad clouds passed over Patton's eyes and Virgil leaned in for a soft kiss. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Nodding, Patton laid his head on his shoulder. "It will make tonight special."

~

That night's dreams were filled with blood.

Rich, salty, and hot. Under the blinding moonlight, Virgil waded through a steaming lake. He washed his face and hands in it, breathing in the life and strength of it.

The owl's cry woke him. In the complete blackness of his closed coffin, Patton was still curled close, head pillowed on his shoulder. He'd spent the whole slumber in his arms, a sweet gift on these long summer days. "Good morning, Moonlight," he whispered, pressing kisses into his hair. The scent of his blood was thick in the air, rising up from him with a fervor Virgil was not accustomed to in all but his deepest hunger. Patton drowsed, shifting weakly in his arms. "Moonlight?"

"Hm, love," he mumbled, head heavy against his chest.

Leaning as far back as the tiny space would allow, Virgil brushed the backs of his fingers over Patton's cheek.

His skin felt cool.

One arm cradling him close, Virgil pushed up, throwing open the lid to his coffin. He let it clatter to the floor, the ember's glow illuminating the sticky blood covering his hand. "No! No, I couldn't, I—" Virgil licked his lips, dry and tasteless. No, it hadn't been him. "Moonlight? Pat!" Holding him close, Virgil leapt out and settled Patton in front of the cellar furnace.

His shirt and sleep pants were soaked through with blood, as were Virgil's own clothes. But his neck and wrists were clean of wounds. "I'm sorry," Virgil muttered and, hands shaking, tore open his shirt.

Gashes littered the soft skin of his chest and belly, one angry and long, curling around just below his ribs. "Pat? Pat, what's happened?" Virgil looked up and saw Patton watching him past half-closed lids.

"I made a mistake," he whispered, voice horribly thin. "I… I couldn't heal it. I tried, I…" He shook his head once, eyes slipping shut.

"No!" Virgil roared, grabbing Patton's shoulders, "No, you can't just die, you—"

Jostled into half-consciousness, Patton's eyes half-opened again. "I'm sorry I couldn't take care of you."

"No, no no no no no!" Virgil shook his head, copper and salt making his head spin. "No, but I can take care of you. Pat? Pat, listen to me," he shook him again, willing him to stay alert long enough to say yes. "Please? Let me take care of you. All you need to do is drink."

"Drink?" he asked, so quiet Virgil had to lean down to hear.

Biting his own wrist, Virgil nodded, offering the wound. "Please," he whispered. Without a heart to pump it, his blood flowed slowly, a single drop welling at the edge of the wound.

Patton blinked up at him, each fall so slow Virgil feared it was the last. Finally, he parted his lips, soft pink tongue lapping at Virgil's skin.

"That's it, Moonlight, just like that," Virgil urged, a new warmth filling his chest as Patton's tentative movements turned purposeful and he drank in earnest. "Just like that."

Patton paused, head falling back against his arm, so Virgil stretched out next to him in front of the furnace. He pulled him close and raised his wrist to Patton's mouth again. "That's it, Moonlight. Now we can take care of each other."

Breaking away, lips and tongue rose red, Patton smiled weakly up at him. "Forever."

[edupunkn00b]

And in Walked Trouble

Troubles never stopped coming for Janus Sanders. And the biggest trouble of them all just sauntered back into his life.

Written for @tsspromptmonth's Sleepy Bean Fanfic Cafe for @greymillieattheball - WC: 1199 -

It was a Monday like any other. Dank, grey, wet. The sky couldn't be bothered to give up snow. Left the streets empty of anyone with anywhere else to go. Suited me just fine.

I'd got to my office early that morning. Well, that's what my secretary thought, at least. If he had eyes, he'd've noticed my coat and hat were bone dry.

"Well, hey there, Boss! You beat me in this morning!" His grin and his powder pink tie were the brightest things I'd see all day. Maybe that's why I kept him around. "Make ya a fresh pot?" he asked, shaking the dented Coletti.

His smile and his coffee. "Might as well," I said, draining the half-empty cup at my elbow.

While he waited for the water to boil, Emi chattered about the clutter on my desk. We both pretended he couldn't see the overdue notices stacked up in one corner. I covered them with last night's paper. As he poured, a shadow moved past the frosted window cut into the outer door. It passed back a few seconds later. On the third pass I nodded at the door. "We're about to have company."

"A client?"

"Maybe." I glanced down at the old bills. "Maybe not. Find out."

Grinning, Emi closed the inner door behind himself. He settled into his own chair just in time for the hall door to open. And trouble to walk in.

"Good morning, sir," Emi recited. "Do you have an appointment?"

"I need to see Janus." Muffled by the thin walls, that voice still gave me chills.

"Detective Sanders is with a—"

"I can smell his coffee." Footsteps tread closer and Emi's chair squealed back. "Jay? Jay—"

"Sir, you can't go—"

"Let him in, Em," I called, picking up the phone. Didn't need to make a liar out of him.

The door creaked open and I hung up the phone. Loud. Vee's smirk said I shouldn't've bothered.

"Hope I'm not keeping you from an important phone call," he drawled, perched on the arm of the chair.

"You know you could try sitting like a normal human being," I countered.

He shrugged, coat falling open to reveal a suit that cost more than I made all last year. "I could." Arms crossed, eyebrow raised, he looked the picture of calm. The picture of calm and a forgery at that. The top button hole on his jacket was stretched, the copper shinier than the rest. His old nervous habit of tugging at it instead of biting his nails giving him away.

That and the big black shadows under his eyes.

I sat back and waited him out. It didn't take long.

"I need your help, Jay," he spilled, falling into the seat. He looked up at me with big doe eyes. Damn those eyes. "The cops think I did it."

Last night's headline called to me. "Did you?"

"What kinda question is that?" Lips pouted, it almost looked like I'd hurt his feelings. Almost.

This time I shrugged. "Wealthy movie star husband turns up dead. No break in, nothing stolen." Vee stared back in stony silence. "It's the kinda question only a idiot wouldn't ask."

"I need you to clear my name." He inched forward and pulled out a check. He placed on the desk between them. It was blank. "How much?" he asked.

My caseload was drier than my throat. "How much you got?"

Warm brown eyes flicked over the unpaid bills, the drip from the window. The second-rate secretary. He wrote down a number, then signed and dated the check. "This do it?" He pushed the check into my hands. A wide, gold band still sparkled on his left hand.

I stared down at that little swirl he still put on the 19s for a long time. Then I folded the check into my pocket. My still-empty cup sat on the desk. I pulled out a bottle from my bottom drawer and filled it to the brim. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"

~

Emi's little brother fidgeted outside the elevator bay. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Of course it wasn't. That didn't matter much. There was only one man in town who could find the evidence I needed. Once up a time, he was on my payroll. He was smart to leave when he did. At least one of us knew enough to cut our losses.

The elevator dinged and a single set of shoes pattered out. "Look sharp," I muttered, head ducked behind today's paper. I pulled my hat brim low. Lo would know me at a hundred feet but Patton? Innocent eyes under rain-spattered curls might just be enough.

"Hey, Mister!" Patton darted forward, blocking Lo's way to the revolving doors. "You got a minute?"

"I regret I am—" Heavy as the clouds outside, Lo's own sigh interrupted him. "Janus?"

There was too much hope in that voice for my liking. I lowered the paper as the pair approached. Patton nibbled his lower lip like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. With Lo watching, I paid him more than I'd promised. He darted out the door without a backward glance.

"You could've just come upstairs," Lo said, voice soft. Softer than it should've been. "You didn't have to trick me into seeing you."

I folded up the paper, pressing the creases neatly so it would back in my overcoat. "That's not how I remember our last conversation."

"Wouldn't it be nice to remember something better?" He stepped closer.

I stepped back. "I'm here for a case." I finally looked up. The least I could do was watch his face fall when I was the one who shattered it.

Lo recovered quickly this time. Mouth tight, he squared up his shoulders. His hands folded neatly behind his back. "I see."

Run, Lo. Don't help me just because I ask.

Eyes grey, dimmed like the slushy pavement outside, he nodded. "What do you need?"

~

"I don't believe it." Vee stared down at the headline I'd set in his lap, Boys in Blue Find the Romeo Slayer, Widower Exonerated. In the picture below, a half-dozen cops led a handcuffed man up the 7th precinct's steps. He reached across the desk, fingers tapping the blotter in front of mine.

I pulled away. Taking out the check Vee'd written that morning, I gave it to Emi. "Deposit this," I said. "Then send out the bills on your desk."

His eyes widened when he saw all the zeros at the end of that number. "You got it, Boss!" Emi's grin never looked brighter. Until he turned, eyes poking holes in the back of Vee's head. "Or you want I should wait?"

Vee'd left his hand on my desk, palm up. He looked back at me, that damned smirk softer than I'd seen in a long time. He'd taken off his wedding ring.

"Or…" Emi stayed quiet until I met his eyes. He frowned, eyebrows raised. "Or you want me to close it?"

I swallowed hard and looked back at Vee's waiting hand.

Emi didn't wait me to answer. With a soft click, my door closed shut behind him.

[edupunkn00b]

Every Day's a New Chance to Try Again

Patton and Remy have been tasked by T.H.O.M.A.S. to recruit a rival time agency's best new field agent.

And they can't escape this day until they do.

Written for @tsspromptmonth's The Sleepy Bean Fanfic Cafe, for @greymillieattheball. -

Patton closed his eyes in 1893.

And opened them four hundred years later.

After synchronizing his time piece with the local time zone, he closed the device and dusted the sparkly residue of his trip from his sleeves before making his way to his next assignment.

"Well, hey there!" he cheered to the reception system in—what he hoped—was the local dialect. While a T.H.O.M.A.S.-programmed AI would have no trouble understanding him no matter his language, anachronisms were logged across all space time. The last thing he needed was a demerit on his record.

He certainly already had enough of those, thank you very much.

"Greetings, Agent P-15," the AI responded after barely a breath's delay. He was probably okay, then. "Your room is still being processed, so please make yourself comfortable in the waiting area to your left."

Patton glanced over at the crackled plastene floor of the three by three meter 'room'. A hazy window looked out over the reclamation bins behind the building. Another time agent—one Patton didn't quite recognize—stood slouched against the wall, repeated checking his watch every few seconds. Suddenly, he disappeared, time dust scattering to the floor. A tiny robot vacuum emerged from a vent in the wall and half-heartedly hoovered up the mess before retreating to its dock. Its tracks left a glittering trail of dust behind.

"Thanks," Patton sighed. They couldn't all be the Waldorf.

"While you wait," the AI continued. One of the squares below the AI's screen glowed. "Please avail yourself of your mission briefing and local care kit of clothing and currency."

He palmed open the locked bin and pulled out a nondescript grey bag. It weighed half as much as his last one and was nearly a quarter of the size. No waistcoats and top hats in this century, Patton supposed. He didn't bother to try opening it. Neither his nor his partner's would unseal without the other's presence. After thanking the AI again, he stumbled over to the waiting area.

Just in time for another time agent to slam through the door. "What up, Bitches?" he drawled, sauntering over to the AI. Save for what looked like a genuine cotton tee shirt, he was dressed head to toe in black, mostly—dear Viktor, was that actual cow skin leather? As though his clothing choices were not enough to set the AI time system in a tizzy, he gripped a white paper cup emblazoned with a green mermaid topped with an petrochemical-based plastic lid.

"What the hel—heck are you wearing?" Patton hissed at him. "Are you new or something?"

The agent barely looked at him and held up one finger. "Chill, Babes, lemme take care of this real quick," he said, then faced the AI's primary camera. "Checking in." He smirked at the camera, sticking out his tongue and flashing a 'v' with two fingers just before the light signaled his image was being scanned.

"Nah, Babes," the agent winked at him. "I'm not new." He lowered the old fashioned sunglasses hooked over his face and gave him an assessing glance. "Are you?"

"What?" Patton sputtered. "I've been serving the T.H.O.M.A.S. for nearly ten years. I've been on over ninety-eight missi—"

"Greetings, Agent R," the AI interrupted, a new row of lights blinking along the floor.

Patton nearly dropped his mission case. Agent R? No suffix? That meant he was…

Smirking again, Agent R stuck out his hand. "Call me Remy."

"Agent P-15," Patton said automatically, shaking back.

"P-15, huh?" Remy muttered, bending down to get his case. He turned again to the AI. "Can we get our room keys now?" he asked.

"Of course, Agent R," the AI chirped.

Did Patton only imagine a hint of deference in the machine's response?

"Thank you," Patton mumbled, taking his card and turning it over to reveal Room 3 printed faintly on one side. Going up on his tiptoes, he peered over Remy's shoulder to see which room he'd been assigned. With any luck, they'd be on the same floor.

"Room Three?" Patton asked, frowning down at their matching cards. "Is that… typical for you?" Patton had been on plenty of missions and only once before had he been assigned a shared room. And that had been on an overbooked ocean liner.

"Apparently," Remy drawled and throwing back the last of his drink. He tossed it toward the reclamator, revealing the printed logo.

Patton's eyeglasses took a moment to translate the bright green text, but when they did, he gasped. "Starbucks?" he cried, covering his mouth when the AI chirped to itself, devoting more attention to their conversation than he would have liked.

Once paired, time agents were responsible for each other, sharing their success and accolades.

As well as their failures.

"They've been out of business for close to a century! Ever since the divestment boycotts in the last Depression." Patton's first partner's voice slithered in his memory. 'A time agent always remembers their first Time.'

"And?" Remy grinned, lowering his dark glasses long enough to wink at him. "You're not gonna tell, are ya?"

"Of course I won't, but…" Patton waved weakly at the AI's screen, mouth finally closing with a little wet squeak.

"C'mon, Boy Scout," Remy said, sauntering down the hall. "Let's get settled in and then get our missions." He waited for Patton to follow him before marching on. "We wouldn't want to have to repeat the conversation every day until we get it right, do we?"

~

Remy keyed open the door and took two steps inside before he stopped in his tracks. "Well, that's not typical," he muttered, then moved in to make room for Patton. Feeling that little twitch in his cheek, Patton smiled for the camera, then stepped inside. Their room had only one bed.

"What?" Even the tiny packet felt heavy in Patton's arms and he sagged against the wall. "Maybe there's a trundle?" he said, hope thin and sour on his tongue.

Dropping to his knees, Remy peeled back one edge of the blanket, revealing the empty space beneath the bed. "Nope," he said. "Well, we'll be cozy," he shrugged, leaning one knee on the bed. "It's not bad, I mean…" Flipping over onto his back, he threaded his fingers behind his head and sighed. "It's comfortable."

"Maybe we can go back and tell the AI it's made a mistake?" Patton almost laughed as soon as the words were out of his own mouth. There was no arguing with the AI.

"That's cute, Babes," Remy chuckled, sitting up and peeling off his leather jacket, leaving him in low rise leather pants and thin white tee. He left his jacket in a heap on the floor next to the bed. "C'mon, let's get these damn things open so we know what we're in for."

Patton nodded and brought over his packet and tapped it to Remy's. The indicator lights glowed bright then quietly snapped open. Together, they pulled out their assignments, reading silently to themselves.

Remy finished first. "This ain't so bad," he shrugged, scrolling through his pad and tossing the rest of his packet on the floor next to his jacket.

"You really think so?" Patton wasn't so sure. He paged through the data on his pad, shaking his head. "The TVA pays this guy… wow," he muttered, counting the zeros after Agent Sanders' annual pay. "The TVA pays him really well."

"Yeah," Remy shrugged, still tapping at his pad. "But we have more fun."

"If you're sure," Patton said, swallowing as he scanned their target's accomplishments.

Ignoring his hesitation, Remy stood. "Mission accepted," he said clearly before pulling his leather jacket back on.

"Oh, um," Patton swallowed hard, looking around the tiny hotel room. There wasn't much else to do but start. "Mission accepted," he repeated.

"Your day begins now," the carefully modulated voice said. Their packs glowed then switched over to their countdown. 23:59:59… 23:59:58… 23:59:57…

Patton's watch matched the screen and he nodded, buckling the straps on his own jacket. He looked up, jaw firm. Remy had opened the door, eyebrows waggling above his dark glasses. "C'mon, let's go find our guy. How hard could it be?"

~

It turned out, very hard.

Patton's watch, buzzing with a sleep reminder, had ticked down to 06:32:17 by the time they'd left the last bar on the street. They'd started their first day strong.

Splitting up, they'd divided the city into a massive grid, marking down each area of interest… bars, makerspaces, schools. They'd met up in the center of the grid at 13:00:00 and synced their notes, transferring the data to their permanent storage in each of their pads. Even if one of the pads had a malfunction, they would have another copy of the day.

And, at the start of the new day, at 00:00:00 on the dot, it would all reset at 00:00:00, pulling down from permanent storage everything they'd learned so far.

They tackled the first quadrant, the rain starting about two hours in at 11:13:49. They got through half the streets before their watches and biometers began to warn they would need to sleep soon.

"Let's head back, yeah?" Remy suggested, relieving Patton of the shame of admitting he desperately needed rest. He pulled his jacket a little tighter around himself, rain dripping from his floppy bangs.

With Patton's tired nod, they walked back to the hotel, grunting at the AI and returning to their room.

Their room with only one bed.

"We can be professionals about this," Patton had said, averting his eyes as Remy peeled off his jacket and belt. His leather pants followed, left in a heap on the floor.

Remy had shrugged. "They'll end up back on me when we reset anyway."

The man had a point.

Slightly more careful with his own clothes, Patton turned down one corner of the blanket and slipped beneath the covers. "Well," he said once Remy had laid down. He was warm, radiating welcome heat after the long, chilly day. "Goodnight, Remy."

Remy chuckled, taking off his sunglasses and rolling onto his side. "'Night, Agent P-15."

~

Their next day fared even worse.

The rain started at the same time, almost to the second, but they trudged on, not enough currency to purchase both dinner and a rain cover. An entire block seemed to shut down early, a gas leak or some such trouble, and Patton marked it diligently into the pad so they would hit that street early the next day. If they needed to.

If they didn't find Agent Sanders before the next reset.

Sopping wet and feeling the strain of a short night's sleep the previous day, Remy and Patton started the trek back to their hotel earlier on the second day. Awkward, they fumbled their way into sleep clothes—Remy, again, wore his tee and boxers, the black silky-looking material swishing with each step. Patton pulled the covers up to his chin, as far to one edge as he could manage. "Goodnight, Remy," he whispered, eyelids already heavy.

"'Night, Agent P-15."

~

After two and a half months, they finally started on the third quadrant and the pair was starting to get into the groove of their search. So much so that when they held up their pad with Agent Sanders' image the brightest thing in the darkened basement entry of an illegal makerspace, they were both surprised when the attendant pointed a titanium hand toward the back. "Logan is teaching right now, but I am certain he would be willing to make time for a couple of curious humans such as yourselves when he is done."

Patton glanced between the pad and the android's domed eyes. "You're… you're serious? He's—"

Laughing, Remy tugged his sleeve and they made their way down the dark hallway.

The only thing they caught of Agent Sanders was his heel as he slipped out through the transome.

"Bull hockey!" Patton swore, shoving his pad into his pocket before thinking better of it and making notes about their failure. While their memories were sustained, they were only human and, at this point, there was no telling how many times they would have to reset.

"Let's go," Remy said, wiggling his wrist. His watch glowed 07:03:33. It was approaching their sleep cycle. "We'll get him tomorrow."

Reluctantly, they left the relative shelter of the makerspace and stepped out into the cold rain. Tired as they were, they hurried through the rain-turned-sleet and back to their room. Their feet carried them almost automatically, muscle memory slowly building as their bodies learned the layout of the city. They soon found themselves back in their room, stripped down to sleep clothes.

Patton shivered from his side of the bed, the cold damp from outside seeping into his bones. The time reset never quite could resolve physical ailments. In time, he'd grow accustomed to the cold, but the first few weeks—oh, how he hoped they'd be done before measuring in weeks!—were always rough.

Remy laid down again, rolling to his side, back facing him. Patton inched just a little closer, the heat pouring off his taller partner nearly irresistible. He stopped himself before he was close enough to touch, then tapped the light off. "Goodnight, Remy," he murmured, unsure if his partner was even still awake.

"'Night, Agent P-15," Remy said, alert and awake.

"You can call me Patton," he said.

Silence grew heavy between them and Patton vacillated between fearing he'd said something wrong or guessing Remy had somehow already drifted off.

Remy chuckled. "'Night, Patton."

~

They next day, they got closer. The day after that, closer still. After a week of failed contacts, though, they decided a new strategy was in order.

Splitting up, Patton went inside to talk to the attendant while Remy loitered in the alley where they were… pretty sure Agent Sanders had escaped. As Patton approached the room the attendant had indicated, he heard the scuffle and raced outside.

Remy had been knocked down, sitting legs akimbo in a murky-looking puddle. "I almost had him!"

Nodding, Patton offered his hand. "C'mon," he said, pulling. Remy was lighter than he looked, a lanky height without a lot of bulky muscle. He waited until Remy was steady on his feet before releasing his grip. "Let's head back. Shower, maybe?" Remy shivered, the wet managing to seep through his anachronistic fashion. "We'll figure out a plan for tomorrow.

An hour later, Remy emerged from the bathing room in a cloud of steam. One towel wrapped around his waist, he rubbed another over his hair. "I know we don't need to, but…" He shrugged looking back at the small water closet. "I don't know about you, but my last job was in a drought. This is kinda nice." Water ran down his chest in slow rivulets and his cheeks and lips were flushed from the heat.

Patton nodded and looked down at his pad. "Maybe tomorrow? If… y'know… we're still here? I have an idea," he said, then flipped over the plan he'd sketched out on the pad. "I think Agent Sanders is running because he assumes we're there to arrest him. He doesn't even know we're from T.H.O.M.A.S."

Still blotting up the water dripping from his hair, Remy grinned and passed back the pad. "Babes, I like the way you think. We're gonna need some sleep to get this going."

"You're right," Patton said, setting down the pad on a charging table and climbing into bed. Remy stood awkwardly on the other side. "Are you not tired?"

"Well, I…" He looked down at the fluffy towel wrapped tightly around his lower half. The towel was large but not that large, reaching to just above his knees. "My shorts are soaked. I… I'm a little flagrante here, Babes."

"Oh," Patton's cheeks burned and he looked away. "I mean… We're just sleeping, right?"

"Yeah," Remy said, a bit of his usual arrogance coming through.

Patton thought it sounded just a little… forced. He waited for Remy to settle into bed before turning off the light. The shower's steam had banished the room's typical chill. Despite the little buzz from Remy's body warmth less than a foot away, Patton felt himself drifting. "Goodnight, Remy," he mumbled.

"'Night, Patton."

~

Over the following days and weeks, Patton's plan nearly worked several. They began by waiting for Agent Sanders outside the makerspace, whiling away the time comparing this to their previous cases. They managed to spot him twice as he left, each time just at the cusp of the 00 hour, resetting just as they began to speak.

The next three resets were spent through most of their days and, on the third morning, Patton had woken up curled in Remy's arms.

They dressed in silence, wordless until they reached the makerspace. It hadn't even opened yet.

Standing outside, hands shoved in their pockets and keeping a careful distance from each other, Remy was the first to spot Agent Sanders. "Hey, Logan!" he called. "Babes!" he added. "What kinda time cop is gonna call him 'Babes?'" he'd said quietly to Patton.

Head tilted to one side, Agent Sanders approached, leaving several meters between them. "I don't know you," he said simply. "How do you know me?"

"We know your work. And we'd like to make you an… offer," Patton said, following their script. They'd never gotten this far before and giddy bubbles popped in his chest. Agent Sanders eyes looked… interested.

Could this be it? Were they really that close to finishing the job? Were they ready to break out and go home?

Patton glanced over at Remy. He watched Agent Sanders' expression, an odd slope to his shoulders.

"I've heard of T.H.O.M.A.S.," Agent Sanders' said, looking between them. "You're here until you finish the job, aren't you?"

"That's right, Babes," Remy murmured, hands still in his pockets.

Eyes narrowed, Agent Sanders' seemed to hear something else and he nodded. "Well, why don't you ask me tomorrow, then?"

"What?" Patton said, shaking his head. "But you won't remember—"

Remy stepped a little closer and hooked his arm through his. "Tomorrow, then," he said, eyes not on Agent Sanders but on him. "We're okay with another night here," he murmured, too quiet for Agent Sanders to hear. "Right, Agent P-15?" he smirked.

"Only one?"

Agent Sanders slipped away, disappearing into the dark alley next to his makerspace, but Remy just smirked down at Patton. "Oh, no," he deadpanned. "He got away."

Giggling, Patton bit his lip. "Darn," he said. "We'll have to try again tomorrow."

"Let's call it an early night, then." Sliding his hand down to lace their fingers together, Remy lowered his sunglasses and winked at him. "You hungry, Babes?"

"Famished."

Smiling now, Remy pushed his sunglasses back into place. "Me, too."

[edupunkn00b]

Morning Glories and Jade Slippers

Photo of morning glories by Gary Fultz, via Unsplash

Written for @tsspromptmonth's Sleepy Bean Fanfic Cafe for @doteddestroyer. Flower shop AU, Hanahaki's, and mutual pining. Rated: G - WC: 2691 - CW: one swear (and it's not Remus'), Hanahaki's, mutual pining -

Janus loathed mornings. Dawn was overrated, as was that heart-stuttering jolt he got from waking to an alarm. He hated rushing over his first cup of coffee, he despised dressing in the dark. And if Janus were in charge, morning showers would be outlawed.

Even so, even Janus had to admit there were certain benefits to arriving at the shop two hours before his oldest friend and business partner.

The streets downtown were practically empty and blissfully muted in the pre-dawn hours, and he never had to wait for his latte at the coffee house next door—the one blessedly already open each day when he arrived and pushed up the squealing iron gate protecting his and Logan's flower shop.

Getting in two hours early each day also meant he was guaranteed to be alone when, after being in the shop for precisely forty-seven minutes, he would have his morning coughing fit. The timing left him nearly an hour to clean himself up and clear away the indigo-colored morning glories he'd expelled before Logan might spot them and start to ask uncomfortable questions.

His early mornings, though, were not all upside.

Mindful of what it had taken to force his groggy head into this rigid wake schedule, Janus hadn't slept in for over four years. And consistently early mornings meant consistently early nights. Janus wasn't sure which was worse, his little brother's disappointment when he declined yet another movie marathon night. Or when he'd stopped asking altogether.

Most pertinently, though, arriving before Logan every day meant he also bore witness to his arrival each morning. Along with his husband's morning goodbye kiss.

"Say it again, Lo Lo," Remus had snickered, nuzzling against his cheek. From his perch atop the front counter, Remus had wrapped long, lanky arms and legs around Logan, pulling him close. His muscles bunched and stretched under his long-sleeved tee, strategically ripped, it seemed, to let his detailed octopus tattoos peek through. That or to give Logan a chance to trace deft fingers along the bared tanned skin, just as he did now.

"I cannot possibly imagine to what you are referring," Logan demurred, cheeks pink as his eyes darted over his husband's shoulder. Janus looked away before he could catch his eyes.

"Oh, Lo Lo," Remus said, voice lower. But not quite low enough to not be heard across the shop. "You know what I wanna hear."

"I will see you tonight, Meus," Logan murmured, voice rich and warm and rumbly.

Janus didn't look up from the peonies he was arranging for their first pick-up of the morning.

Remus had laughed, energetic bubbles bouncing around the room. "How much of me?" he'd countered.

"All of you," had been Logan's quiet response, his own laughter buzzing just under his words.

That had been last week.

Janus didn't know what spell Remus had cast on his formerly reserved best friend and partner—business partner, Janus' mind firmly clarified. But there were days when just the sound of their voices pulled him out of the rose chiller or out from the receiving room, a sunflower turning her face to the sun.

Grip so strong he feared he might warp the flower bucket before him, Janus gagged and choked. Finally, he coughed up a particularly large blossom. Finally able to suck in a lungful of air, he fell back, panting. Once he'd caught his breath—for now—he sat up, wiping his mouth. Never one to be overly squeamish, Janus peered inside the bucket.

It hadn't been one blossom caught in his throat, but two.

One was a familiar blue morning glory, velvet soft petals wet and wilted. Next to it, with bright green petals edged in blood, sat a Jade Slipper orchid.

"Well, fuck."

~

The following morning's sleet hid even the barest hint of dawn, leaving Janus fighting to resist his temptation to tick up the thermostat to try and make up for the lost imagined warmth. Instead, after he cleaned up from his coughing fit—taunted this time by nearly as many green orchids as morning glories—he pulled his gloves back on and worked to unload the new glass giftware they'd ordered.

For several weeks, customers had been asking for a greater variety of vases for custom arrangements and, after the third request in as many days, Logan had called Janus over the review his tracking sheet.

The man had a spreadsheet for everything.

Smiling, Janus had leaned over his shoulder for a better look at Logan's projections. His lungs filled with the scent of vanilla and cedar, Logan's cologne just strong enough to beat out the heavy fragrance of the roses Janus had been trimming. He inhaled deeply—and promptly choked.

Slapping a hand over his mouth, Janus fumbled in his pockets for a handkerchief.

"Jay?" Logan leapt to his feet and steadied him with a warm, firm hand on his arm. The unexpected touch burned through the silk of Janus' sleeve. "Do you need some water?" he asked, voice tight with worry.

Finally managing to pull one of his new black handkerchiefs from his vest pocket, Janus covered his face just in time to feel a petal behind his teeth. No. No, please no. Not here. Not now.

Still coughing, he shook his head. Tears pricked his eyes as he struggled to dislodge a bloom. He needed to get out of there. Janus stepped back, but Logan moved with him, one hand now gently gripping his arm while the other rubbed his back. "I—I'm here," he murmured, sounding uncharacteristically unsure even as his hand eased Janus' back spasm brought on by each cough. "It's alright, I—"

"Hello, Flower Boys!" Remus cried, backing through the front door. The aromas of garlic and butter and fresh bread came with him. "Anybody hung—" The bags rustled as they dropped to the floor and Remus was at his other side. "Shit, you okay, Jannie?"

Janus tried to nod but was wracked with another spell. Stars sparkled behind closed eyes and he stumbled. Caught between the two of them, Logan and Remus, they eased him down into Logan's chair. Handkerchief heavy and damp through the thick black cotton, Janus winced and crumpled it before shoving it in his trouser pocket. He found a second just in time before he coughed up one last blossom. Folding that one in his hand, he closed his fist tightly around it. Letting the chair—and Logan and Remus—support him, he fought to catch his breath.

He didn't dare look at what he'd coughed up.

"Thank you," he managed between slowly easing gasps. "I'm fine now," he lied, eyes closed. Up until now, he'd only coughed up actual petals in the morning or evening. But that was a worry for another time. He cracked open his eyes, two sets of concerned eyes looking back at him. Janus pressed on a smile, shakier than he would have liked. "Thank you," he said again, slowly regaining his awareness. 

Logan and Remus knelt on either side of him, Logan's hand on his knee. His thigh, really. Janus tried not to think about that. Remus' larger hand covered his where he still gripped the soiled handkerchief. The shop door was still ajar, held open by the large bag from Amante's down the street. That explained the garlic.

"I apologize, I'm delaying your lunch date." With great reluctance, he pulled his hand away from Remus' warm grip and shoved the other handkerchief into his pocket. Remus' hand lingered on his knee before finally dropping to his own side.

"Nah, Jannie, I…" He glanced over at Logan, thick mustache twitching over his lips. "I brought it for both, well, for all of us."

Logan's thumb brushed the crease in his trousers, very, very lightly. Janus was certain he wasn't even aware of it. "You are more than welcome to join us, Jay."

"Yeah, we wanna all eat together," Remus added, a bit of his usual grin returning.

"Only if you would like to. We've got tiramisu for dessert," Logan said quickly, giving his knee a little squeeze before looking down as though he just realized where his hand was. He folded his hands in his own lap.

Janus suppressed a shiver as his legs slowly cooled from the dual loss of contact. Ignoring that, Janus smiled. "You know my weakness," he teased.

The smile that bloomed over Logan's face put every flower in their shop to shame. He nodded to Remus, who stood and closed the door, setting the little 'We'll be back' clock for an hour. Grinning over his shoulder at him, he pushed it to two. "I'll do whatever I need to do to get the two of you to take a decent break."

"Rather hypocritical coming from you, Mister 'I Have a New Idea and I'll Sleep When I'm Dead.'" Arms crossed over this chest, Logan's voice was stern but his smile was not.

"Slander!" Remus laughed. Hefting up the bag, he returned to them and offered a hand to Logan to help him to his feet. "You see what I have to put up with?" he winked at Janus.

To Janus', surprise, Logan laughed and released Remus' hand to offer both to him. Without thinking, Janus wrapped his hands around Logan's and allowed himself to be helped to his feet.

One hand still gripping their lunch, Remus looped his arm around Logan's waist as he grinned back at Janus over the top of Logan's head. Message received, Janus nodded and dropped Logan's hands. Eyes on the floor, Janus smoothed down his vest. "Thank you. I'll set up in the back," he said, retreating to give the couple at least a few moments of privacy before their shared meal.

~

While mid-day coughing fits remained blessedly rare, Janus' evening spells were growing far, far worse. He now spent hours every night coughing up increasingly large blossoms and sharp, prickly stems. The black handkerchiefs had proved useful for disguising the increasing droplets of blood that accompanied them, and he soon switched out all of his sheets and towels to the same. Exhausted after a particularly bad spell, he collapsed on his bed, right on top of his covers, certain he needed just a moment to collect himself before properly preparing for sleep.

When Janus opened his eyes to his progressive alarm blaring and the buzz of his watch shaking his hand, he was afraid to see how long he'd overslept. The clock told him anyway. If he sped through his routine, he'd get to the shop only forty-five minutes late. Maybe it would still be okay.

That morning's coughing fit would not stop. He'd already coughed up more blossoms than he ever had before, the bright bright blue and green mocking him from the bottom of the bucket. Something large caught just below his vocal cords, his coughs turned silent as he heaved and fought to force it free.

Without the sound of his own coughs ringing in his ears, he clearly heard the sound of the shop's front door, along with Logan and Remus' soft, flirty laughter. "Jay?" Logan called. Two sets of footsteps grew louder on the other side of the backroom door as the edges of Janus' vision grew dark. He gasped for air, the tiniest trickle of oxygen making it past the obstruction.

The room tilted sideways just as the backroom door flung open.

"Jay!"

~

Janus woke up on the floor. Not directly on the cold floor. No, beneath him were several coats, his own as well as Logan's and even Remus' big wool great coat. He was sitting mostly upright, head and back supported. Something firm, something warm. Vanilla and cedarwood…

He looked up and into Logan's eyes. "Lo?" he said, voice raspy. "I…" He tried and failed to sit up.

Eyes sad, Logan curled his arm a little tighter, helping his sit up. He raised a small cup of water to his lips and quietly watched him drink. Janus finished and licked his lips. "Ready for more?" he asked.

Janus nodded and had half the next before shaking his head. Logan slowly lowered the cup but kept it close. The silence grew heavy between them. "Who are they for?" Logan finally murmured, jerking his chin toward the bucket.

He eyed the cup and Logan raised it up. Janus took a slow sip, then whispered into the cup. "They're for you, Lo." He pretended not to notice Logan's little gasp. "And your husband."

The hand holding the cup shook and Janus squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for his gentle rejection, waiting for his horror. Waiting for anything. One does not simply confess to one's married friends without… consequences. Logan tapped the cup to his lips again and, obediently, Janus sipped at it.

"How long, Jay?" he whispered.

Janus drank more of the water, delaying a response. He would run out soon.

He tried to sit up, but gravity—and the magnetic pull of Logan's warmth—was too much to fight and he lay back with a sigh. "Your morning glories started just before we opened the shop. The orchids…" He closed his eyes, face burning with shame. "Since last winter?"

"They're different for different people?" Remus sudden voice from the doorway sounded surprised. "Does that mean…"

Feigning confidence, Janus looked back at him. Dressed in a flower apron and holding a pair of stem shears, Remus' cheeks were red, eyes wide. Janus nodded and swallowed hard, triggering another little spell. Both Remus and Logan were at his sides. Remus kept the bucket and a soft cloth close, rubbing Janus' back as he hacked up more petals. And Logan held his hand.

Finally the coughing subsided. Sandwiched between them, Janus let them hold his weight. Just this once.

Remus broke the silence. "So you've been in love with Logan this whole time," he said more than asked. "And now me, too?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, eyes still closed.

"Oh, Jay," Logan sighed. "The only thing you should be sorry for is not telling us sooner. I can't believe this whole time, you—"

"I—" Janus' voice died before he could explain more. He hadn't even considered how uncomfortable they would feel finding out he'd been secretly harboring feelings. He'd thought he'd been sparing them. So focused on his own longing, it never even occurred to him they would feel like he'd been lying. "I… I am," he said, sitting up on his own. "I'm sorry. I'll… I'll go," he muttered and pushed himself up to his feet. The room spun around him but before he could fall, Logan and Remus were up, too, holding on to him.

"You dumbass," Remus said, pulling him close. "We love you, too." Logan moved in, one arm curled around his husband, the other around him. Blood roared in Janus' ears. He didn't just say that, did he?

"While that is not how I describe your mental acuity," Logan murmured and brushed a soft kiss against his temple. "Remus is correct. We both have strong and romantic feelings for you. Of course we love you, too, Jay."

"Really?" Janus studied Logan's eyes and then Remus'. They were serious. "How… How did I not…"

"How did we not?" Logan asked, filling in the rest of his question for him. "Come," he murmured as Remus dabbed at his face with a warm, wet cloth. "The shop is closed for the night. I think we have a lot to talk about. Would that be acceptable to you?" he asked, addressing both him and his husband.

"Hell yes!" Remus grinned back both of them. At Janus' little nod, they helped him to his feet and into his coat. Logan remained at his side, one arm curled around his back as he walked on unsteady feet. Remus moved ahead, holding doors and shutting off the shop's lights.

Janus watched as Remus pulled down the gate then switched positions, supporting him as Logan crouched down turned the gate locks. He stood and offered Janus his hand.

Hand in hand in hand, they walked back to Logan and Remus' car and on toward whatever came next.

[tsspromptmonth]

Sneaking one last request in before the deadline!

I'm in a floral mood. Could I please get a rose hip tea with chocolate shavings and sugared rose petals, please? with loganberry, starfruit, and (optionally) any third syrup. either 2% or heavy cream is fine.

(hanahaki + mutual pining in a flower shop AU. either loceit or any ot3 with loceit involved. either fluff or h/c is fine as long as there's not an unhappy ending.)

Thank you so much! This has been a wonderful month.

fic:

https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/154059286

https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/70803123

https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/103843701

https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/97531140

https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/155611672

https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/155729173

comments:

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Morning Glories and Jade Slippers by @edupunkn00b

[edupunkn00b]

Just in time for Patton's birthday, the final chapter comes out today!

I Love You Heart and Mind, Ch. 4: In a Legal Setting

Prev - In a Legal Setting - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Logan comes to a fresh conclusion in a courtroom.

Everything changed that night.

Well, perhaps that was a bit exaggerative, Logan mused as he crouched, knees to chin, in the center of his room. There, too large to fit, and too small to change, his mind replayed his failure in Patton's room.

The hurt pouring off the tenderest of them all, the crack in his voice as he pleaded with him to cease his overly harsh assessment of his lingering feelings. The diamond glitter of tears in the corners of his eyes all demonstrated to Logan the primary failing of his technique to remain grounded.

Simply—over simplistically—put, Logan's anger not only had begun to serve as a poor deterrent to his inconvenient changes in size, but was now hurting the Side least equipped to weather his rage.

Thankfully, Logan had been able to escape before any of the others noticed the stretching seams on his polo or his sloped shoulders, hunched low to make himself appear smaller. He sank down, eyes closed, Patton's expression figuratively burned into his mind.

Safe and alone in his room, he managed to tear off his eyeglasses and his clothes before they'd be ruined. Walls and ceiling pressing in against him, he struggled to control his heart.

As a distraction, Logan pushed himself into Thomas' perspective, delaying his own perceptions of the chilly air against his bare skin, the sharp poke of his desk where it dug into his shin.

The tears soaking his floor.

Both hands covering his mouth, he failed to even name what caused his sobs he couldn't stop. Guilt for hurting Patton so? Frustration that, despite his efforts, they all still remained in Patton's room? An undignified whimper squeezed past Logan's lips as he shot up further, back of his head smacking against the ceiling.

He let out a slow breath and focused again on Thomas' senses.

His chest was tight but warm, a spark of melancholic joy as he recollected that damned fishing trip with Uncle Buck. Logan saw through his eyes and the others listened.

Everyone except Patton.

"Say," he said, shoulders dancing in his warning of impending pun. "What's 'Buck' short for?"

"Ah…" Logan shivered as he experienced the stereoscopic thrill of Thomas sifting through his memories from both of their perspectives.

"'Cause he's got little legs!"

Patton's giggle came out choked—thin and forced, his sweet goofy smile failing to brighten his eyes.

"You know you don't have to do that, Patton." There was no sign Thomas was at all aware of how completely Logan had taken control of his speech.

Patton certainly wasn't. He looked back at Thomas' eyes, open and thoroughly unshielded. Was that how he looked at everyone? Vulnerable? Listening with his full heart?

"Try to... hide what you're feeling with jokes. It's okay to be sad sometimes." Logan hugged his knees to his chest and let himself imagine he was holding Patton instead.

"I'm never sad! I'm your happy Pappy Patton! Just a fun-loving father figure figment."

"Falsehood." Spoken in Thomas' voice, Logan's correction came out far gentler than he could have ever managed on his own.

"You said yourself," Patton argued back. "I'm at the core of a lot of your happy feelings."

"You're at the core of a lot of hi—my feelings... Happy or otherwise." Logan watched Patton carefully, waiting to see if he'd caught the slip. He looked too busy trying not to cry to have noticed. Logan's heart clenched.

"When I was younger, my uncle used to take me fishing… and I HATED it. It was boring, throwing the living fish in the cooler upset me... There was no escape for them or for me. On the boat, I was stranded with miles of H2-Open water in every direction…"

Logan smiled to himself when Patton huffed out a tiny laugh at the pun. Eyes screwed shut, he rested his head against the door jam and slowly let slip his hold on Thomas' speech.

By the time the others made motions to return, Logan had shrunk enough to dress. He appeared in his spot just in time for their return.

Along with the fuzzy hoodie he'd intended to give Patton on his birthday.

Patton took to wearing his gift as a proper sweater whenever they were off camera. The first morning Logan came downstairs and saw him, sturdy blue apron tied tightly around his waist, plush sleeves rolled up, Logan could barely manage a few words before the warmth in his chest grew too large and his collar tightened until he couldn't speak. He excused himself with a gesture and a wave.

Eventually, Logan strengthened his ability to maintain his composure and the pair began to spend most quiet mornings together. Logan would loiter in the kitchen, sipping his coffee. Eventually, the his control grew and they'd stand side by side, mixing and chopping and blending together.

Everything had changed.

So much so that Logan had begun a new project, a personal project. Hunched over his desk, favorite pen in hand, he worked to plot out different tactics he might use to begin to reveal his core problem to Patton.

Gradually, Patton had begun to listen to him like none of the others did. He did not always completely understand, but was always willing to try. Perhaps sharing this difficulty with him could reveal some new insight into how Logan could better manage his condition.

At the very least, Logan hoped to finally explain the increasingly loud and caustic outbursts he used to prevent his literal growth spurts from interfering with their videos.

Thoughts churning, his pen wandered across the page and when Logan next looked down, he deciphered a familiar verse.

…love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove.

O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

Smiling, Logan copied out the rest of the sonnet by memory. He'd nearly finished the final phrase when he felt the summons. With just enough time to think, he grabbed the first book he saw so he wouldn't appear before Thomas with his personal planner—and the sonnet—in view.

He rose up in the witness bench of a large, wood-paneled courtroom. Roman sat next to him in a gleaming white judge's robe, sash cut across it. Blood red. Virgil was a juror, a sharp tie over a long sleeved black shirt similar to his. Virgil's hoodie topped it off.

Patton's did not. His gift, his ever-present cat hoodie was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a three-piece suit.

Logan fought not to stare at him. "You guys are doing a courtroom scenario... without me?" No-one had insisted he be part of this exercise? None of them? Not even… He dragged his eyes away from the bright blue tie so perfectly knotted at Patton's collar and shoved his sour hurt into a tiny steel box in his chest. "Unacceptable."

He let their explanations wash over him as he played his role. Facts and information. Logic. That was all he needed in this moment.

It was all any of them needed from him.

J—Deceit carried on. "I feel like 'which event could cost us more to miss?' is a less interesting question than... 'which event has more to offer us?' Don't you?"

"I don't feel anything," Logan said. Irritation, perhaps. Frustration and annoyance. Those are mere sensation, not a feeling.

Deceit continued his argument and Logan only half-listened to his own responses. It was in his nature to rattle off the details he retained.

"There's always room for me," he said. There should be, at least. It was simple oversight that they hadn't included him sooner.

I don't feel anything.

Deceit smiled back at him. "I know, that's what I said, but Patton insisted we leave you alone. "

Patton said that? Logan wasn't certain if he'd actually spoken aloud. He watched his objection, waiting for an actual denial, waiting for any sort of evidence that J—Deceit had lied.

But Logan knew Deceit didn't always lie. He only got to decide when their truths could be revealed.

I don't feel anything.

Logan fumbled through the rest of the hearing, facts at the ready as a bright hot coal burned in the center of his chest. He was getting sloppy, soon these metaphors might take root. Or they would if anyone listened long enough to him. Eventually the hearing was done, Roman's judgement passed and, numb, Logan slipped back to his room.

His personal planner still sat open on his desk, foolhardy plans taunting him. A waste of paper and ink.

He picked up his pen and crossed out all but the final two lines of the sonnet.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Then he closed the book and crawled into bed.

I don't feel anything.

[edupunkn00b]

Just in time for Patton's birthday, the final chapter comes out today!

I Love You Heart and Mind, Ch. 3: Moving In

Prev - Moving In - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

What happened after Logan left Patton's room. -

"All this because Patton can't let go of one person?"

Two people.

Logan's shout still ringing in his ears, Patton couldn't force his smile to return. "Logan, can you stop?" Anger buzzed in the air between them but Patton couldn't keep the words from spilling out. "Please?" He tried and failed to meet Logan's eyes, looking everywhere but.

You don't have to see me. You don't even have to care. Just… stop. For a little while?

He did stop. And then he left. Hugging a framed photo of Thomas' kindergarten graduation, Patton stared at Logan's empty spot and, for a moment, considered going after him. The others… they'd be okay in his room without him… Wouldn't they? It wouldn't be like when they'd gone to Virgil's, right. Right?

The only person he could ask had gone.

"Patton, what happened back there?"

Logan hates me for getting stuck on old feelings I should've let go of a long time ago and he knows I'm just hurting everyone and so he left.

Thomas sounded scared and worried and… Pulling in a deep breath, Patton dragged his eyes back from Logan's spot and grinned. "Oh, that was nothing, Thomas!"  He conjured another set of photos from Thomas' class trip to Sea World. "Sometimes I just get to actin' little silly, that's all…"

Patton looked up from the photos. No-one was buying it, least of all Thomas. And he was right, the literal voice of reason had left and, no matter how many times Patton tried to call him back even though there, he wasn't coming back.

He stumbled his way through the rest of their conversation, dancing on the edges of the growing pit in the center of his chest. What would they say if they really knew how far it went?

They rose back up from his room, the living room a little… sharper than he'd remembered it. He looked up at Logan's empty spot and instead saw—

"Logan!"

As Logan explained he'd never really been gone, Patton fiddled with the sleeves on his hoodie. It sure had seemed like he'd been gone, even if Thomas' quiet 'Falsehood' had shaken him free of a quiet upward spiral into another round of jokes.

Patton was just about to find a way to sneak off and finish baking those cookies he'd started earlier that morning when Logan surprised them all again, especially him.

"You got me a gift?" Patton hugged the cat hoodie close. It smelled like Logan's room, paper and ink, pencil shavings and coffee. Half his mind kept his mouth moving, the quips and jokes that were keeping Thomas happy. The other half of his mind raced, barely registering the puppies Roman seemed to pull out of thin air.

He got me a gift. He doesn't hate me. Even after everything. He doesn't hate me.

~

After eating only half his dinner, Logan excused himself, explaining that, now that Thomas was beginning to feel a little better—the sidelong glance his way made it clear which part of Thomas Logan was referring to—he had to catch up on. Patton watched him go, sticking his thumbs in and out of the little gaps in his cuffs. Roman was quieter than usual and Virgil chattier.

"Padre?" Roman was speaking, tapping Patton's hand where he'd twisted his sleeve around and around. "I asked if you were done."

"Oh?" Patton looked up, blinking. Save for his own plate and water glass, the table had been cleared. Steam poured up from the sink where Virgil was washing the big stock pot and Roman was smiling down at him, looking at his mostly-empty dish. "Oh, um, yes… Thank you," he nodded. "I—I think I am. I…" his eyes darted over to the staircase and he nodded to himself before grinning up at Roman. "I think I might go check on Logan, y'know…" Patton gave a little shrug as he pushed up to his feet. "Just to…"

Head tilted to one side, Roman smiled. "That sounds like a most worthy use of your time this evening, Padre."

Patton was halfway to the stairs before he raced back to the kitchen and grabbed a napkin and the cookie tin. Virgil watched him over his shoulder and chuckled. "Nice," he murmured, and returned to his work.

"Okay, now I'm ready," he grinned and skipped up the stairs. He stopped in front of Logan's door, knuckles inches from the indigo wood. Was this really a good idea? What if Logan was really busy and all he'd be doing was interrupting his train of thought and making it that much harder for him to get everything done in time to go to sleep at a reasonable hour? Was he about to make Logan hate him even more?

Patton looked down at the fuzzy pom poms at the ends of his hoodie strings. Logan didn't hate him. He wouldn't've given him this hoodie if did. Logan might not share his feelings, but he didn't hate him. And maybe… just maybe it would make Logan smile to know that, even after he left the room, Patton was still thinking about him.

He closed his eyes and knocked.

The door opened almost immediately. "Patton?" His glasses didn't quite hide the tiny crinkly between his eyebrows as he looked Patton up and down before peering into his eyes. "Are you quite alright?"

"Yeah, I'm a-okay, Logan," Patton quickly cheered, bouncing on his toes and giving him his best jazz hands. "I'm great, I…" Logan's gaze flicked back to his desk, covered in papers and two open calendars. "I don't want to keep you, I just wanted to tell you…"

Head tilted, Logan peered at him like a puzzle he was nowhere close to solving.

Patton stepped a little closer and almost reached for his hand. At the last second, though, he tugged at the little puppy pouch on his cat hoodie. Cat cardian. Catigan. He giggled. "I just wanted to tell you thank you again for the hoodie. It's really nice and warm and…" He hugged his own arms shrugged. "Thank you, Logan. It was really nice of you."

"Oh," Logan nodded, lips twitching into a tight smile. He tugged at his collar before nodding again and beginning to step back into his room. "It is quite unnecessary to thank me again, you've already thanked me sufficiently."

"Well, I…" Patton mirrored his step, shrinking some of the distance between them. "Wait, I, um…" Arms out, he turned around so his back—and his hood—was facing Logan. "I brought you something!" He pointed to his hood and laughed. "Inside!"

"This is an unconventional mechanism," Logan murmured, fumbling with the hood. As soon as Patton felt the weight lift, he spun back to watch Logan's face as he unwrapped the little packet. "You've brought me cookies?"

"Mm-hm," Patton grinned. "They're oatmeal chocolate chip. With—with walnuts."

Logan stared back at him, expression still and completely unreadable. Even for him.

"You know…" Patton squared his shoulders and tried to look stern. "Extra protein and fiber," he said, smile cracking at the end. "Nutritious cookies. Well," he admitted with a laugh. "More nutritious cookies."

Cookies cradled in his cupped hands, Logan silently blinked down at the cookies. Patton nearly reached to take them back when he finally looked up and whispered, "You listened." Logan's eyes had never looked bigger.

"Well, yeah," Patton said, giving him another little shrug. "I… try to, at least."

Face expressionless, Logan wrapped the cookies in their napkin. "Thank you, Patton," he said before stepping all the way back into his room. "I…" Shaking his head, Logan cut himself off. "I must return to my work before bed."

"Oh—okay, Logan, I'll—"

Logan closed the door before he could finish.

Patton hugged himself again, pretending the plush sleeves beneath his hands meant more than just a hoodie. "See you in the morning?"

The only answer was the squeak of Logan's chair.

[edupunkn00b]

Just in time for Patton's birthday, the final chapter comes out today!

I Love You Heart and Mind, Ch. 1: The Mind and the Heart

The Mind and the Heart - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

This chapter takes place around the time of The Mind vs. the Heart. - Rated: G, WC: 2093 -

Zipped up and purrfectly cozy in his fuzzy cat onesie, Patton refilled his hot cocoa and settled back into his cookie corner sofa. Fresh from the oven, two chocolate chip cookies sat cooling on the side table. Hoodie drawn down over his head and a blanket pulled up over his lap, he bowed his head and breathed in the steamy, chocolately goodness in his hands. This was exactly what he needed.

The past few months had been… Well, alone in his room, Patton could safely admit the past few months had been rough. Not that anything really bad had been happening in Thomas' life. In fact, with friends and videos and plays filling his days, everything had been going super-dee-duper for him.

The problem had been, well, Logan.

Okay, Patton thought to himself, sipping his cocoa. Logan himself wasn't the problem. The problem was what happened any time he and Logan were in the same room.

"Hey there, Logan!" Patton had cheered, grinning over his shoulder when the Logical Side had stumbled, bleary eyed, into the kitchen last week. Patton held up a stack of still-steaming chocolate-banana pancakes with a smile. "Are you hungry?" He carefully wiggled the spatula to help make the sweet scent waft through the air. "Hot off the griddle just for your hot grill…" His voice fell away at Logan's confused frown.

"I do not own a grill, Patton," he'd said, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Of any temperature."

"Oh, yeah, I know that…" Patton slowly lowered the spatula. "I just meant—"

"Furthermore, if I were hungry for breakfast, I am confident a more nutrient-dense meal would be more appropriate, perhaps something with protein and a little more fiber."

Keeping his smile, Patton plated the pancakes and turned off the stove. Maybe Roman or Anxiety might like them later. "Right you are, Logan!" he cheered. "You know I can make you anything you like. Eggs or…"

Logan frowned, that little crease between his eyebrows growing deeper. "I… I require nothing more than a simple cup of black coffee, Patton." He opened the cupboard and pulled down the mug Patton had given him last Christmas. Fingertips tracing its now-invisible glow-in-the-dark stars, he turned to Patton. "But… thank you, Patton."

Patton had felt his smile waver so he busied himself at the sink. "Of course," he'd said, turning on the water to hide the quiver in his voice. "Open offer!"

It was even worse when Thomas was around.

Patton had popped up as soon as he heard Thomas talking to his good buddy Pedro on the phone. Pedro's been having such a bad time with his roommates, Thomas was sure to need a little hand managing all the feelings that came with his vent sessions.

"Moving, huh?" Thomas smiled, looking relieved.

Patton tucked himself into a seat next to him on the couch. Oh, thank goodness! Pedro was getting a new place! And all the better if he needed a little help from Thomas! "Do it! They're such a good friend, you gotta be a good friend too."

Logan didn't agree, popping up, lips pursed in his 'very serious' face. "Don't do it! You already have two things going on that day and three the next day. You need optimal sleep and rest."

Thomas looked between them, phone still pressed to his ear. This wouldn't do at all.

Shooting Logan a look, he'd slid closer to Thomas. "They'd do the same for you," he'd reminded him.

Arms crossed over his chest, Logan shook his head. "You don't have the time."

The argument only got more heated after that. And if that had been the only time, Patton might have been less worried.

Beckoned by a wave of fuzzy, bubbly good feelings from Thomas, Patton had popped up into the living room, already smiling. "Look at all these cute dogs!" Thomas had cooed, his face the personification of the little pleading eyes emoji.

Caught up in the feeling and his mind filling with images of tiny puppies and big fluffers bounding up and down the stairs, Patton burst out, "Adopt them!"

Thomas stared at him. "What?"

"You need to adopt them!" He pointed to the screen where it showed one of the puppies had been at the shelter for over a month. "Who knows what might happen if you don't adopt them?" Logan would know, that's who. Where was he? Maybe he should summon him. "And they need a good home!" Oh and Thomas would be such a good doggie daddy! He'd be just like him!

"You are not going to adopt an animal." Logan didn't even look at Patton when he appeared.

And Thomas was listening. "Oh?"

"Do you have the time for one, let alone multiple, dogs?" Words clipped and expression stern, Logan threw darts right into Patton's plans. "Are you here in this house enough to give it the attention and love that it needs?

Lava pushed up out of his mouth and he shouted at Logan, "What do you even know about love?!"

Those had been his calmest words that night. Passions flying, Patton couldn't even remember everything he'd said. All he could remember was Logan's stiff frown and the way he'd stood taller and taller, as though straightening his posture might protect him from the onslaught.

It had taken Logan three days to come out of his room again. A week before he'd meet Patton's eyes.

Patton looked down at the mug he still cradled in his hands. He'd let it get cold again. Popping up to refresh it with a little hot water from the kettle, Patton stirred and sipped, waiting for the drink's warmth to spread from his belly to his chest.

This really was all pointless. Logan was right. Feeling this way, feeling this way for him was… pointless. It was only hurting everyone, most of all—

Patton felt the tug half a breath before rising up in Thomas' living room.

"What?" he asked dumbly, glancing quickly at the camera before sneaking a swipe at the wetness in his eyes.

Thomas seemed just as surprised as Patton that he'd been able to summon him. And after Thomas explained why he'd called him, Patton kinda hoped it hadn't actually worked.

Logan popped up just as quickly as he had… And, also just as he had, appeared wearing his onesie, soft blue tie looped over the top of it just like Patton had tied his cardigan over his onesie's shoulders.

Patton grinned, the tiny connection giving his heart a little boost. Between their identical glasses and the polo he'd picked to match with Logan's own style, their corrdinating outfits warmed Patton more than all the onesies in the world ever could.

The moment soon passed, though, and before Patton really understood, he found himself spiraling into an argument with Logan over… Whether or not they should talk to Thomas? What was he doing? There was no way Logan actually thought it was a waste of time to listen to Thomas' feelings, was there?

Caught between disbelief and a hollow ache in the center of his chest at Logan's harsh dismissal, Patton scolded when he should have listened, pushed when he should have followed, every minute, growing more and more insistent until finally Thomas had to show them the woven thread connecting them.

Smiling at Logan's newly calm face—and the bright glow he always got when he learned some new factoid or tidbit—Patton sank down and changed back into his onesie. Instead of retreating to his room, though, to bask in the cozy warmth of how their… discussion had ended, he loitered in the Mindscape common room. Was he hoping Logan might do the same?

Maaaaaybe.

"Oh… Patton."

He grinned when his tiny unvoiced wish came true. "Hiya, Logan!"

Logan looked around the room, hood pulled up on his alicorn onesie, wings dancing with every gesture. He hugged his new Trivial Pursuit book close to his chest and Patton had to shake away the question of whether or not you could be jealous of a book.

"I…" Logan began carefully. "I planned to do a little more reading. Would…" He offered Patton a tight smile.

Patton was already nodding. Whatever Logan wanted was his.

Logan's smile grew, just a little. "Would it be acceptable to you if I were to read in here… with you?"

"Definitely!" Patton replied, a little louder than he'd intended. "Oops," he laughed, briefly covering his mouth. "I'll let you read," he said in a quieter voice.

Logan watched him over the top of his book for a moment before lowering it with another tiny smile. "I do not require silence to read this book."

"Thanks!" Patton giggled and hugged himself, hands covered his the paw-sleeves. "I'm glad you changed back, too," he said, matching Logan's little smile with his own grin. "These things are just so soft and secure."

Was he just imagining Logan's cheeks pinked when he looked up from his book? He definitely didn't imagine the way Logan's smile grew just a little larger. "You're very correct."

Relishing the light behind that rare soft smile, Patton nodded. "Always the best for taking a little nap..."

Logan chuckled, "Don't you mean a little cat nap?"

Patton's mouth hung open. "Did you just make a dad joke?"

He tried to deny it but a tiny bit of him looked… pleased Patton had caught it so quickly. "Um... no. I did not mean to—"

His heart soared. "I am so proud!" he shouted, happy bubbled popping in his chest.

Panic washed over Logan's face and he shook his head. "Please don't be proud..." He shifted in place, like he couldn't decide whether to sink out or not. "Or tell anyone."

The fear in Logan's eyes cut Patton's happy squeal short. "Oh, Logan, no, I—"

Eyes wide and tugging at his tie, Logan sank out of the room. A thud from Logan's room shook the ceiling just a few seconds later.

"Logan!" Patton cried. He tried to sink down, to follow him, but Logan had locked him out. If Patton wanted to see him, he'd have to do it on foot. "Logan, I'm sorry," he called, running up the stairs. He stopped in front of Logan's door, hand hovering above the doorknob. "Logan?" he said again, mouth close to the door to better be heard through the solid wood. He heard movement inside, the sound of Logan's chair being shoved aside, the squeak of his bedframe. Finally, he knocked. "Logan? Logan, I'm so sorry. Can I come in?"

"No!" Logan roared from inside his room. The door shook on its hinges, hallway floor rumbling under Patton's feet. "We can discuss this later!" he said, only slightly quieter this time.

"Please, Logan," Patton said, leaning close to the door. "Don't leave things like this, I—"

"Leave me be, Morality!" he warned, another heavy thud coming from inside the room.

Eyes burning, Patton stepped back. He fiddled with his onesie paws and watched the shadow just under Logan's door. "O—okay, Logi—" He couldn't make his mouth form the title. Not here. It had been hard enough in front of Thomas, but here? In their hallway, his own room just steps away? No. Here, he was more than just formal logic and cold knowledge. Here he was Logan.

"I'll be in my room," he said, plush-covered hand brushing down the door. "Y'know… if… if you need me?" He listened, waiting, hoping Logan might change his mind and let him in so they could talk this out without letting it fester. When Logan's door remained shut, Patton nodded to himself and made his way into his own room.

~

Head bowed with his knees tucked up to his chin, Logan listened as Patton's quiet footsteps finally retreated, leaving him alone. With a sigh, he shivered and the back of his head scraped against his ceiling light, cracking the glass light shade. Damn. He'd need to repair that.

His alicorn onesie lay in salty wet tatters on the floor beneath him and he was fairly certain he'd broken at least two of the casters on his desk chair. At least the reinforcements he'd made to his bed seemed to have served their purpose. Perhaps he could convince Remus he required similar structural improvements be made to his desk and chair for… extracurricular activities.

Later. For now, he needed to focus on calming down. Until he could recenter himself and reduce his size by at least three fold, he must stay remain where he was.