Work Text:
Logan looked over the application again. Roman Sanders, respected saxophone player, winner of the Australian Jazz Bell Awards 2015 and 2018, with record sales in fifty countries. He outshone every other applicant, but that was what was worrying. Logan knew that his budget could not stretch to the kind of money Sanders would make at his average performance. Still, the musician had known their budget when he applied.
Trying not to overthink it too much, he dialed the number.
After a few moments, it picked up. "Hello? This is Roman Sanders speaking," said a clear, deep voice from the other end and he froze. He had not- expected him to sound like that. Whatever he had expected his voice to hold, it was not a timbre which seemed to be set to the resonant frequency of Logan's heart.
"Hello? Can I help you?"
"Yes-yes-" he snapped back into focus and cleared his throat. "Yes, this is, uh, Logan Crofter, I am accepting your application. You have reviewed the details?"
"I have! It all seems to be very organised," Roman replied. Logan felt his cheeks flood with heat.
"It is very organised," he said stiffly. "It's not your usual caliber of work, I know, but it is very serious. Very important. To me and others."
Roman laughed, not like he was mocking Logan, but in a genuine expression of excitement. "I know! It's important to me too! I always want to do something different, stretch my creativity, so this stood out to me. I think the idea is amazing. How did you come up with it?"
"Oh, you know, research- but more than a little hope. I had to also be creative, in my own way." Desperate times led to desperate measures, which for Logan were increasingly far from the approval of established methodology.
"Wonderful!"
He was suddenly afraid that Roman could hear his heart racing over the other end of the phone line. "Indeed. Indeed. So, I will email you the relevant audio files, then I can set up the studio for you for the 15th."
"Of course- I'll try and immerse myself! Truly get the feel! Any documentaries or anything you can recommend?"
"Oh, I-" Logan adjusted his perfectly straight glasses. "I'll send you a link to some," he said in a high-pitched voice. "And I can- set up the studio for you."
"Thank you, I appreciate it, Logan."
At the sound of his name in Roman's voice, he completely short-circuited. "Yesthankyougoodbye-" He hung up.
For a long moment, he stared at the blank screen of his phone almost breathless. I appreciate it, Logan.
He stood up, irritated, and wondered what in the name of Darwin had come over him. Attraction, he supposed. The musician's voice was simply...attractive.
Would it be egotistical to send Roman a documentary he himself had been interviewed in? It was most informative due to his consultation, but...perhaps it would not look best. Then again, research would probably cause him to stumble upon Logan's name-
He shook his head. He did not have time to deal with this. There were more important things at stake, and Roman Sanders could wait until the 15th.
*
Writing a love song would be stressful enough with a conspicuous and oft-mourned lack of a lover in his life, but as Roman trawled through the articles and videos Logan sent him, what had started as an exercise in eccentricity began to take on larger importance.
As the two emailed back and forth, the nervous, uptight voice Roman had spoken on the phone to morphed into a complete nerd delivering informative ramblings, or, in one YouTube video he'd stumbled upon, a slightly younger version of Logan almost lit up by a kind of tender curiosity.
Therefore, Roman wanted his song to be perfect, and between days practicing and nights researching, he managed to finish the piece only the day before the 15th.
*
As soon as he caught a glimpse of Roman's cloud of hair in the distance, Logan took a deep breath, and pulled on his best cool and professional approach. "Roman! I’m glad you were punctual."
Roman grinned at him. "I thought you'd appreciate that."
And, despite himself, he grinned back. He coughed, and then opened the door so Roman could carry his saxophone case through. "We rented out the space for hours, to give you as much time as you need."
"Thank you," the musician stepped through into the cool air-conditioned reception and wondered why Logan was flushed. "I hope you weren't waiting outside long? I am usually on time! I neither lag nor rush," he joked.
After a moment, the corners of his mouth twitched up. "Ah. Jazz joke. And no, please do not worry. I was not outside long."
As he led Roman down the corridor, he was trying not to look like he was watching him- though he also wanted to be polite- so he walked just ahead, turning his head every now and then. "Everything is prepared for you. We will overlay the drums afterwards, that idea is...really quite impressive."
"Well, the video you sent me gave me the idea! But yes," he admitted, with a bow more flamboyant than polite, "I do think the way I've worked it is quite unique."
They stopped outside the door. "Well-" Logan began, and Roman looked at him with interest. As they made eye contact somehow all the words he wanted to say fell down to bounce around his stomach.
Roman frowned in concern. "Are you alright?" Maybe the researcher got anxious, like Virgil did. "Would you rather I didn't make eye contact?"
"Oh," He adjusted his tie and looked down. "Thank you. No, I am alright with it. It is a threat display in many animals, but not necessarily humans-" He tapped the door-handle. He dimly knew he should cut off now but his clarification was already falling out his mouth. "It is especially seen as a threat among primates, and among those that is most pronounced with chimpanzees- which is why you must never look a chimpanzee in the eye and why zoos should in my opinion warn about body language of primates better, because visitors can upset them. But, then, many animals do become desensitised.” He shook his head. “But really, anthromorphising animals at all is a fool's route." His eyes darted up to meet Roman's once more.
Oh no. He was very, very cute. Roman would never have thought being informed about primate threat displays would be very interesting, but it was incredibly endearing. "You never think animals have their own thoughts and feelings?" he gently prompted.
"No, I know they do," Logan said sincerely. "But they are not the same as human thoughts and feelings."
"This isn't a little like that?" Roman teased.
Logan drew himself up. "No, this is research based."
"Have you set up the studio for me?" Roman asked with a twinkle of humor in his eye.
"I have. For you, a human-" But Roman just caught on you.
Logan unlocked the door, to reveal that the inside of the studio had been decorated with potted plants, the floor scattered with rose petals, a few candles lit, and a framed photo sat on a side-table.
"This is for your inspiration," Logan said with a slight smile. "You may serenade the photo."
Roman burst into a peal of laughter as he put down his case, then blew a kiss to the photograph.
It was a picture of a bird. It had mossy green feathers around its face, then brown ones around beady black eyes and a little beak with nostrils in it.
"I have played love songs for many people in my lifetime," Roman announced to Logan. "But never for, or on behalf of, a parrot."
The kakapo parrot is remarkable for many reasons- it is the only flightless parrot, as well as the heaviest one, and it is historically significant to the Maori. It ought to find mates with males booming to win the attention of females in arenas, but with critically diminishing numbers, competitions to attract mates are not replenishing or increasing the population. And therefore, conservationists must become creative.
"It is not a method which has been proven," Logan clarified, once again. "But any assistance in creating optimal conditions for the kakapo to meet mates is gravely needed."
Roman winked at him. "Don't worry, you already know that I can help set the mood."
"I don't know what you are-"
He undid the clips of his case, then picked up some of the rose petals. "And so, it seems, do you."
"It is of great importance this goes as well as it can do," Logan replied primly.
"Of course, of course, we need the rose petals," he said, with wide, sincere eyes. "For the atmosphere! Here we are, in the arena of love..."
"Actually," Logan couldn't help but add, "the arenas are very large. Each "court" is on average 50m apart, so I would have to be down the street from you."
Roman pouted. "But the benefit of this is you hearing me up close, not at the distance of a music arena. You have front-row tickets to one of the biggest names in Australian jazz." That was, perhaps, arrogant, but Logan appreciated him saying it like the fact it was. He said it like it was a gift to Logan that the musician wanted him to appreciate, not something he didn't deserve.
"Well," Logan conceded, "I suppose that the bird being serenaded is closer to the court."
"I am a proud parrot in my court then!" he said.
Logan nodded. "That is accurate. Judging by your voice, I am hoping your saxophone playing will also be attractive."
Roman paused. "By my voice?"
"It is objectively attractive," Logan said, completely objectively. "Therefore, I hope that your playing shall attract the kakapo parrots. To each other."
"Oh." Roman's eyes widened, then a soft smile spread on his face. "Thank you."
He bobbed his head into a nod, then gestured to the recording booth. "I have been instructed in how to use this, so I am going to go and set it up. You can start when you are ready."
"Just give me a moment to warm up."
"Of course."
As Logan fiddled with the controls to set up the recording for a new song, Roman warmed up, playing through a few scales. He didn't use anything to check his exact pitch, but it sounded right to Logan as he adjusted.
Then he paused, and nodded to Logan through the glass. "I'm ready."
Roman started with a few low, humming notes, similar to the booming of the kakapo, and Logan looked up from the controls, his heart in his chest all of a sudden. He could remember those long nights in a hide close to the arena, hearing the courtships- it was a sound which by rights should be common all throughout New Zealand. Then, the musician overlayed a few long notes, swaying and closing his eyes as he leaned into the music.
It was upbeat, with big dramatic swells every now and again, and Logan, whose mind was always leaping from thought to thought, from analysis to evaluation, was transfixed into stillness.
The smooth sounds, Roman's swaying, the way the dim light of the studio glinted off the saxophone and that earnest expression on the player's face…
All too soon, it came to an end with a final little trill.
*
To ward off stage fright, Roman had closed his eyes against the cute researcher and instead lost himself to his music. As he opened them again, he was met with a beaming smile and round of applause. A residue of nerves mixed with pride to thrill through him. "What did you think?"
Logan beamed. "I think it was perfect."
Roman's face heated, and his eyes crinkled as he returned a genuine smile. "Thank you! So- I'll have some water, have another take or two, and then we can see about overlaying drums and chirping?"
Logan nodded. "I think that is a good plan."
The two of them worked well together- in all honesty, Logan didn't have to input much since Roman was the expert on composition, but he was happy to cede control on a project if he was confident in the abilities of his partner. He was happy to listen to each deliberation, and provide questions if not answers.
They were finished and ready to vacate the studio half-an-hour before they needed to, since Roman helped Logan carry his props back to the van. "No- they just pair for the mating season."
"For now!" Roman declared. "My funky music will create love for a lifetime! That's a joke," he clarified.
Logan laughed. "Well, at least they have great genetic variation."
It was late afternoon creeping into evening outside the studio, and the warm air had begun to mellow and cool. "Are you staying in Auckland long?" Logan inquired.
"Only a few nights. I want to catch a show, but I don't have anything to do tonight. How about you?"
"I should be back at the sanctuary tomorrow. I would recommend the square a few streets from here if you're looking for a good restaurant. I can give you directions?"
"Oh, I don't know," Roman adjusted his saxophone case with a faux innocent expression. "I have to have this back at the hotel for safekeeping, and then it might be harder to find my way there..."
Logan furrowed his brow. "I can give you an address if you wish to use Google Maps?"
He couldn't quite work out if this was a genuine suggestion, or a gentle refusal. His hotel was close, and Logan's van on the curb. It was now or never- "You could take me," he said, with a confidence he didn't feel. "Tell me more about, uh, parrots."
Logan's heart thudded in his chest. "As a social event? Not to do with the project?"
"Social, yes."
"I'd like that." He adjusted his glasses. "I would like that very much, Roman."
They walked back to Roman's hotel, so that he could protect his saxophone, then wandered out along a quiet avenue on the way to the restaurant. The sky had dimmed to soft grey and purple, clouds scudding aimlessly across it. Side by side, they talked and laughed, glances catching on lips, on hands, on each other.
As a tentative test, Logan moved closer, so that their hands brushed together as they walked. When Roman faltered in the middle of his story about a concert, he offered his hand for him to hold.
Roman took it, raised it to his lips, and turned Logan red. Then, Logan mirrored, pulling Roman closer by their joined hands and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. For a long, still moment, they met eyes and forgot how to speak.
"I liked your playing, today," Logan said softly.
His lips parted for just a second before he could manage to say, "And I liked talking with you. Even over the emails...it has been a pleasure-" He cut himself off with a nervous laugh. "A pleasure I can't quite describe."
"We don't always need words for things." Although his hand was shaking, and his heart loud in his chest, Logan's voice was steady. "Music, body language, mutual company...there are many ways to communicate."
"Oh?" Roman murmured.
He nodded, and stroked his thumb over the back of Roman's hand. "I think so."
"Then, may I..." Slowly, he brought their joined hands over Logan's heart, and he moved his other one to cup his face.
Logan's eyes darted up to meet his, all shining with wonder. A breeze shivered through the trees, and although the evening was still balmy, he drew closer together, wrapping his arm around Roman's waist.
They stood in a tenderness of quick breaths and racing hearts, until Logan breathed, "Yes."
Roman dipped his head, and Logan tilted his up, their noses bumping into each other so the kiss was met with the beginnings of laughter. It was gentle, and curious, and as much about their clasped hands and chests pressed together and weak knees as it was the kiss itself.
They drew back for a beat. "How was that?" Roman asked, although his face was hot and Logan was starry-eyes, and he felt like he could faint.
"It was perfect," he said, thrilling again at Roman's voice so close to his face. "Just perfect. But, with these things I suppose..."
Roman stopped breathing.
A mischievous smile crept onto his flushed face. "I suppose we would be remiss for not, ah, testing further."
He burst into laughter. "Of course! Of course! Practice is the key to anything..." And they kissed again, more secure and passionate than before.