Chapter Text
Logan was in dire need of caffeine.
He was walking up the corridors of the Center, his steps leisurely but efficient - the optimal walking speed, and anyone who disagreed was simply wrong. It was early, the first morning lights filtering through the curtains flanking the winding hallway. The air was still and silent, rustling under the dreams of the many inhabitants of this wing who had yet to be released from sleep.
The place he was heading to, however, was already bustling with activity. He walked along the long tables of the dining room, circumvented the potted plants and entered the kitchen.
“Logan…”
It was almost an hour too early for breakfast, and the young man knew he wasn't technically allowed to be here, but there he was. He just really needed this coffee.
"I know," he said hastily, giving Leonie (the head cook and Patton and Janus’ mother) his most contrite look (it was not a puppy-dog face). “I’ll stay out of the way, I promise.”
He would never understand how she managed to switch so easily from the gaze of a hawk to a gentle smile. He would, poor mortal, only be able to marvel before this ability.
“Alright, go off,” she said. “But if I catch you bothering the cooks again, you can go and wait in the dining room, like everyone else.”
"I just want a coffee," he assured her.
A light smirk and a floury hand patting his cheek. “Of course, of course.”
“Well said, kid!” Remy shouted from somewhere at the back of the room. Logan didn’t even want to know what he was doing here. Rumors had it he never slept.
Focused on his goal, Logan walked around the chef and her knowing gaze and sank deeper between the dark wood counters and the yeast-smelling ovens, slipping easily between the cooks, and finally...
“There you go!”
Logan smiled with satisfaction. He reached out for the steaming orange ceramic mug, but his gaze was fixed a little higher.
“Just how you like it!” Virgil happily promised.
"Thank you, dear," Logan replied with a tender smile.
Virgil had changed in many ways during the year he had spent in Sylve-Terre with them. If the physical changes were perhaps the most obvious, there were several others. He had arrived anxious and docile, constantly monitoring his words and expressions, and Logan would never, ever tire of seeing him smile like that, happy and (almost) carefree.
He sat down in the center of the room, on one of the stools surrounding the island, and sipped his coffee with one hand, leafing through the notes from his observational astronomy course with the other. In a few days, his whole class would go on a field trip to the nearest observatory, located on the side of the eastern volcano. Logan took out his diary from a pocket and wrote down ‘ask Patton to accompany Virgil to his lessons’ under the words ‘observatory trip,’ which was surrounded by several drawings of stars and planets (which he would deny drawing himself if anyone happened to see them) and several new designs ideas for the clover constellation (objectively the inferior constellation, Logan was just stating the facts).
Normally, Logan would have slept at home with his moms, who had the benefit of living very close to the university, both being teachers. Recently, however, he had managed to convince them to let him settle in the Center.
The reason for this was bustling around a few meters away from him, and had a little bit of flour on his nose when he turned to quietly hand Logan a spoonful of jam. He gave Virgil a grateful smile, remembering the advice Emile Picani, Virgil's therapist, had given them: to encourage him when he committed small inconsequential offenses. Seeing the slightly unsure look Virgil gave him as he passed the illegal jam, teaching Virgil to think for himself after the ‘preparation’ for marriage he had endured on his island was still a work in progress.
Logan allowed himself a small bubble of anger as he stuffed the spoonful of jam (Krophtr, the best one) in his mouth. It was over. And Virgil was well surrounded here.
Theoretically, he was sleeping at the Center so that he could help Virgil with his homework and accompany him to school in the morning. Roman or Janus would take him home in the evening. It was a good system.
And, well. Maybe that plan didn’t entail him to get up at dawn and drink his coffee in the kitchen, but no one could exactly prove that he didn't suffer from insomnia, or something, right?
Though, to be fair Virgil didn't have to come work at the kitchen every morning either. Various people had explained to him that kids his age usually focused more on their studies than on working every day. Added to the fact that he was starting more or less from zero (because some people had apparently decided he didn't deserve to be EDUCATED)...
“You okay there, Logan?”
He blinked, looking up at Gem, one of the cook's helpers. Shaping the features of his face into a carefully neutral expression, he replied: “Of course. Uh, great coffee.”
"I'm sure," they replied with a click of the eye, before casting a knowing glance in the direction of a certain assistant.
Logan sighed as they walked away. Did everybody know about this?
No, he thought, risking a glance at his friend. Not everybody.
So, there it was. Virgil didn't have to come work here, but he had tied (in a very unhealthy way that Emile was working to deconstructing) his personal worth with the work he did, under frankly frightening standards. At least it allowed him to meet new people, and gradually proved to him that no one would ever hurt him, no matter what ‘mistakes’ he made. And then there was Logan, who strictly speaking didn't need to sleep in the Center or to follow Virgil around like a lovesick puppy (although when they were together the opposite seemed pretty true), but, well.
He was in love.
Okay. That was out. It was in words. Emotion quota for the day: reached. For all and any emotion-related questions, please retry in a delay of…
“I’m done!” Virgil exclaimed proudly, eyes sparkling as he turned around.
… Okay, maybe there was room for a few extra emotions.
They slipped out of the kitchen, each carrying a tray of food, and sat side by side in the almost deserted dining room. Virgil immediately leaned against Logan.
Virgil had arrived at his new home with a serious case of skin hunger (among other things). Once he had decided to accept that they really wouldn’t hurt him, he had become the worst ‘cuddlebug’ (as Patton had said) in existence. Which even Janus couldn't bring himself to complain about.
Complaining was certainly not in Logan's mind when he slipped an arm over the young (former) Borealian's shoulder. A delicate weight fell on his shoulder, which turned out to be Virgil's head. Bringing a toast to his mouth with his free hand, he once again congratulated himself on being left-handed while Virgil (and Patton and Roman, but that was [unfortunately] irrelevant) was right-handed, which allowed for optimal side-hugging experience.
It had taken a while for Virgil to get used to human touch, but less than they expected.
"It's very different from huddling against a crow," he had once remarked from Roman's arms.
Roman who had instantly embarked in a long and loud tirade explaining in detail all the ways his hugs were magnificent, thank you very much, drawing a smile to Virgil and diverting his attention from the upset look Patton and Logan had exchanged.
How, he wondered, as he watched the young man quietly empty his plate, could anyone refuse him affection like that?At the thought of Virgil, his Virgil, as a lonely, ignored young child, he squeezed his friend’s shoulder a little tighter. Virgil wiggled happily in return.
“Do you think the others will be joining us this morning?” Logan asked, hoping to direct his thoughts to more comfortable waters.
"Roman and Patton? That would surprise me," he replied with an amused smile. “They looked very comfortable last night.”
Oh.
Logan hastily took a big bite off his toast, knowing from experience that Virgil was extremely perceptive, especially towards negative emotions (another consequence of his trauma). And if the thought that he had to learn to identify adult’s emotions was painful in itself, it also complicated things for Logan.
After all, he had a Secret (three secrets).
“Are you okay?”
Logan choked a little on his food, and Virgil rubbed his back. When he had regained his breath, Logan turned to him, and quickly looked away upon seeing a hint of concern in his eyes.
“A simple pharyngeal spasm, that's all.”
“I meant before, you looked...”
“Hi, THERE!!!!”
The two jumped, Logan banging his knees on the table and Virgil slipping for cover under his arm. Remus chuckled as he fell onto the bench in front of them, carrying a lump of grumpy-looking Janus in his arms.
"Horrible morning everyone," the bundle grumbled, grabbing one of the insect meat-pies Logan had learned to avoid when he first started eating here, and which Virgil loved (go figure).
“Janus didn't want to get up but he’s got a class so I'm helping him!” Remus rejoiced, once again showing a profound disdain for punctuation.
"That's it, yes," Janus muttered, but he made no move to get out of his boyfriend's grip.
Instead, he rested his head on the Changeling’s shoulder instead, eyelids flickering, and would have perhaps fallen back asleep if Remus hadn’t quickly resumed: “It's funny, because if I only ever ate meat like you, I would get scurvy and all my teeth would fall out! Click-click-click!”
“And that’s funny?” Virgil asked as Logan added:
“Being a Changeling, you might actually survive it.”
The conversation continued in that vein, Remus talking about his plants and Janus almost falling asleep before sulking when Logan pointed it out. The latter secretly welcomes the change of subject.
***
“Wow!”
Virgil ran over to the little monkey that had just perched on the railing, his light steps barely rocking the catwalk. Logan watched him go, admiring how the morning sun played in his soft chestnut hair, smiling and inwardly congratulated himself for leaving early. Virgil would have time to pet the monkey, he himself would have time to watch Virgil pet the monkey, the monkey would have time to be pet, and neither would be late for their respective classes (except maybe the monkey).
It would also give him time to think about what to answer when Virgil questioned him again, which was inevitable. He was too perceptive, and Logan, too enamo- not subtle enough.
The reason for his hesitation was not fear of Virgil's response. Well, not only. It was also and above all that he did not only have strong feelings for the young survivor. He didn't know if polyamorous relationships were well known in Borealis, and even so, he doubted that was the case in the small conservative and xenophobic village where the young man had grown up. There was also the problem of his self-esteem. Logan loved his three friends in different, unique ways, but with the same sincerity and intensity. He especially didn't want Virgil to think of himself as a consolation prize Logan only cared about because Roman and Patton would never see him as anything other than a friend.
Hemlock (whom Logan had learned to differentiate from his mate, Slate, before anyone else, a fact he was entirely too smug about) perched next to his human and began to bicker with the monkey.
Logan was considering returning to Dr. Picani for advice when:
“What are you thinking about, Lo?”
Logan jumped for a second time this morning when Virgil materialized beside him. The monkey, to whom Hemlock must have given his blessing, was looking at Logan from his shoulder with the same worried expression as Virgil.
"We can talk about it tonight," Logan suddenly promised. “We're going to be late otherwise.”
“Nothing bad?”
“Nothing bad.”
“Okay!”
No, Logan thought. Not ok. Tonight?? Why did I have to say that???