Chapter Text
The ship fics are adorable, however I am also aro as heck and I have a proposition: Aromantic (possibly acespec, idrc whatever you wanna do there that's not the main focus) Logan being absolutely baffled because the other sides are flirting with each other and getting into relationships and flirting with him (not that he picks up on it) and he's just like. What. (long ask, so cut for brevity) - anon
Could you write a fic with aromantic or aro-spec Roman in it? – monkeythefander
*materializes into existence* Hi :D Mayhaps I request some Logince (Logan and Roman) hurt/comfort? Logan has a nightmare and Roman comforts the touch-starved Logan. Logan being a bit overwhelmed by all his emotions. Roman grounding him and giving him all the affection. Maybe some insecure Logan? Random Headcanon: Roman calls Logan "Erudite" as a comforting, loving nickname? Cause Lo is a lil nerd. Do what you will. Have fun :D – oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat
THOUGHT THOUGHT THOUGHT!! This has been on my mind for a while Names, as we have learned, are very important to the sides. (this ask is super long so not all of it is here) - anon
Logan blinks awake with sweat soaking his sheets and an ache in his muscles.
"That's it, come on, now…"
There's a voice. Someone is speaking to him. Is it in his head? No, he would not have used such a phrase for himself at this moment.
"Stay with me, come on, I'm right here, wake up, L."
'L.' Ah. Virgil. Logan blinks again, stirring and wincing at the tug in his limbs as a blurry face swims into view. Virgil smiles at him—at least, he presumes he does, it is difficult to tell without his glasses—and ruffles his hair.
"Hey, there, buddy. You doing okay?"
"Virgil?" He swallows through his dry throat and tries again. "Virgil?"
"Yeah, buddy, it's me. You were having a nightmare, do you remember?"
His brow furrows as he tries to recall it. No images come to mind—though perhaps that is for the better—but the ache in his limbs coalesces into a strange and heavy soreness that isn't reminiscent of any sort of muscle pain. On instinct, his hand moves toward its center to try and figure out what's going on, but his fingers only scrabble uselessly against the soft fabric of his shirt.
"Hey, hey, uh-uh," Virgil interrupts, taking gentle hold of his wrist and pulling it away, "stay here. You with me?"
"I'm with you. I don't—I don't remember my nightmare, but my chest—my chest hurts."
"You think it's from hyperventilating?"
He shakes his head. "Not that kind of hurt."
Virgil nods, the mattress creaking slightly as he leans back to give Logan his space. "You wanna talk about it at all? You need to be grounded?"
"Can—?" His throat dries up again mid-question. "Can I have some water?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure, I'll be right back."
The mattress squeaks again as Virgil's weight leaves it, the light to the bathroom and the sound of the sink following shortly. Logan drifts in the strange fuzzy half-dark of his room for several moments more before Virgil reappears with a glass of water. He sits up, carefully, and drinks about half of it.
"Thank you."
"Sure thing, bud. You need me to stay for a little longer?"
The soreness hasn't receded, but the prospect of letting Virgil stay makes it…worse. His fingers twist into the blankets. Virgil waits patiently until he sighs and his shoulders drop. "Can you see if Roman's awake, please?"
Surprise flickers across Virgil's expression, but he nods and stands. "If I can, I'll send him up. If not, do you want me to come back?"
"Just to say you couldn't find him, or he isn't awake. You don't have to stay."
"I don't mind," he says softly, but Logan shakes his head. "Okay. I'll see what I can do."
Virgil sinks out and Logan lets out a breath he hadn't been sure he was holding, putting the glass on his nightstand before his hands can shake too much to spill it. He rubs his chest. The soreness hasn't abated, but the lancing pain atop it has. Despite knowing how ill-advised it is, he finds himself once again trying to remember his nightmare. His fingers worry the creases in his shirt.
A knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts.
"Logan? It's Roman, Virgil said you were looking for me?"
"Come in."
Roman opens the door and glances around, spotting him in the bed and smiling. He looks…far too awake for the middle of the night, but at least he's dressed down in a T-shirt and sweatpants.
"Hi, Specs," he says quietly, shutting the door behind him, "what can I do for you?"
"I—"
Roman's brow furrows when he cuts himself off, taking a small step away from the door. "Can I come over?"
Logan nods and he comes to sit on the edge of the bed, still a respectful distance away, but close enough to lay a hand encouragingly on Logan's blanket-covered knee. Even through the fabric, the touch grows warm in a rush. Roman's hands are callused, he realizes, from years of swordfights and writing alike. His thumb makes little strokes back and forth, filling the room with the sound of fabric rustling.
"Logan?" Roman smiles when he looks up. "I think I lost you for a moment there."
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize, I'm pretty sure it's my fault." He indicates his hand. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No."
"Okay, then." He pats his knee. "Not that I'm not thrilled to see you, but I can't imagine midnight socializing works its way onto The Schedule, so—"
Logan snorts.
"—if you wouldn't mind telling me a little bit about what's going on in your head right now?"
"I had a nightmare."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Virgil was here, he…he woke me up. He got me water." Roman nods. "He…asked if I wanted to talk about it."
"And did you?" Roman prompts when he doesn't finish. "Is that when you asked him to get me?"
"Yes."
"Do you…want to talk about it with me?"
His mouth hardens into a thin little line.
"You don't have to," he continues, softer now, "I can just babble on and distract you until you get bored enough to fall back to sleep."
"That's not—" he touches his shirt again— "my chest hurts."
Roman blinks. "Okay. Um, do you want me to have a look at it?"
"…can you?"
"Of course, Specs, can I come a little closer?" Logan nods and Roman scoots up the bed. He briefly mourns the loss of the hand on his knee only for his breath to stutter when Roman's warm hand comes to rest gently on his chest. "Is this alright?"
He nods, not trusting his voice. Roman carefully rubs his hand back and forth, back and forth, in small circles, then bigger circles, then side to side, then down his sternum. A small furrow appears between his brows as he goes. When he's finished, he lays his hand right over Logan's heart and closes his eyes.
A few moments later, he opens them again.
"I can't feel anything wrong," he says, looking up at him, "but it does…I can feel something a little sore. Is that what it is?"
"Yes."
"Do you think it's just from the nightmare?"
"I don't even remember what the nightmare was."
"Okay, that's okay." His fingers tap lightly against his chest. "Is—can I keep asking questions?"
"Yes."
"Thank you. Does it have anything to do with why you sent Virgil to look for me?"
Logan's quiet for a moment. Roman waits patiently, his fingers still drumming lightly against his chest. "I…it didn't feel right."
"Right?"
"To ask Virgil."
"Why not?"
"He's…they're…"
Roman makes a soft oh sound and scoots the slightest bit closer. "Is it because the others are in a relationship now?"
It had been a long time coming, if the others were to be believed. Patton and Virgil and Janus and Remus—the four of them had recently started to explore the dynamics of a polyamorous romantic relationship and it had been going well. The four of them had been…happier than Logan could remember seeing them.
The thought of it is enough to twinge the ache.
"Hey," comes Roman's gentle voice, "stay here with me?"
"I'm here, I'm here."
Roman carefully pats his chest. "I'm guessing that was it?"
"…yes."
"Do you want to talk about that?"
Logan's mouth thins again. "It's stupid."
"If it's giving you nightmares, Specs, it's not stupid."
"It's not—" his head snaps up to look at Roman, who meets him with such soft and patient understanding that Logan's hand twitches toward his unconsciously— "do you…think that's what it was?"
"You woke up without being able to remember the nightmare except for this ache in your chest," he says, "you didn't feel comfortable letting Virgil comfort you, and you asked specifically for me."
Logan swallows. "Your logic is impeccable."
"Why, thank you."
"Still, it seems like an inappropriate thing to have a nightmare about." He shifts to ease a cramp in his leg. "The people that matter to me have gotten together and are happy about it. How is that supposed to give me a nightmare?"
Roman doesn't say anything, just looking at him expectantly. He sighs.
"I don't know, Roman."
"Do you want to try and figure it out, or do you want me to distract you from it until you can fall back asleep?"
"It'll frustrate me if I don't know why."
"Then let's figure it out."
"But that's hard," Logan mumbles, mostly under his breath. Roman chuckles and strokes his thumb across a wrinkle in his shirt.
"You like hard problems."
"Not when they keep me from sleeping."
"Come on, then, Braniac," Roman encourages, "let's get you thinking."
Logan sighs again, leaning back against the headboard. Roman goes to lift his hand from his chest but without thinking about it, he covers the hand, keeping it there. Roman makes a surprised noise.
"Sorry."
"No, no, it's alright." His hand shifts to get comfortable. "Can I ask why—would it be helpful if I asked you questions to help you think, or do you want to do it on your own?"
"You can ask."
"Thank you. Can I ask why you felt more comfortable asking for help from me than from Virgil?"
"We went over that."
"Say it again for those of us in class that aren't as clever as you."
Logan frowns slightly—Roman is clever. "Virgil has recently entered into a relationship."
"So?"
Logan turns to look at him. "What do you mean, 'so?'"
"What does that have to do with Virgil comforting you?"
"I'm not part of the relationship." Roman gestures for him to keep going. "That should—I'm not one of the people Virgil loves. Yes, yes, I know," he interrupts before Roman can say anything, "Virgil might love me, but he's not in love with me—he does not feel romantic love for me."
"I'm going to keep asking you why this matters, Logan."
"He's not—shouldn't he be doing that for his partners?" Irritation bleeds into his words. "Isn't that how that works?"
"How what works?"
" Romance," Logan spits, only belatedly realizing that Romance is Roman's thing, "as soon as you enter a romantic relationship with someone, they become your one and only priority, or whatever, they're who you're supposed to comfort, to seek comfort from, it doesn't matter what other relationships you might have, or might have worked on for years, as soon as someone gets the label of romantic partner, everything else might as well not exist."
Only after he's finished speaking and he sees Roman's expression does he realize what he's just said.
"…oh."
"You're worried the others won't think about you as much anymore," Roman summarizes with devastating softness, "and that they won't see their time with you or their relationship with you as important, is that right?"
Logan nods, shame bubbling into tears that Roman wipes away with a gentle noise.
"Does it scare you?" He nods again. "Oh, Logan…it's okay, can I hug you?"
Logan barely has time to nod again before Roman's sliding up and wrapping his arms around him and oh, Roman is big and soft and warm and his brain isn't coming up with good words anymore and he doesn't care because Roman's still hugging him and the ache in his chest is glowing and he's all warm and it almost burns and it—and—and—and—
"Shh, shh, Logan," he hears from a great distance, "it's okay. I'm right here, okay? I'm right here."
He decides he's not going to think about anything else. Nothing that isn't the fingers running lightly up and down his back. Nothing that isn't being rocked against a strong chest. Nothing that isn't the soothing murmur of words in his ear.
"I've got you, Logan. It's gonna be okay. I'm not going anywhere."
When he next surfaces out of swimming in the sensation of warm soft comfort Roman safe, he realizes Roman's moved them. He's leaning up against the headboard, Logan balanced halfway across his lap. He looks up from where his head is pillowed against Roman's shoulder. Roman smiles.
"Hey," he calls, running his fingers through his hair, "you feel any better."
"Mhm."
"That's good." He returns to scratching lightly between his shoulders. "If it's any consolation at all, I'm sure the others wouldn't be upset at getting able to comfort you at all. I think they'd miss it, actually, and start passive-aggressively fighting for the chance to do it again."
"That's kind of you."
"I'm serious! Mark my words, they'll be squabbling for the chance before you know it."
Despite himself, he laughs at the mental image of it. Roman's chest rumbles with a laugh of his own. "I don't think I would mind so much," he mumbles, tongue loosened by Roman's warmth, "if I didn't know it wasn't for me."
"If what wasn't for you?"
"That sort of thing." When Roman still looks confused, he sighs. "Romance…all of that. That sort of thing."
"What do you mean, romance isn't for you? Not that it's a problem," he says quickly, "that's your decision and you're welcome to make it, I'm just…curious."
"I'm aromantic."
"Oh. Me too."
"I just mean that—" he stops and looks up. "You're what?"
"I'm aro too, Logan," Roman says, smiling softly and running a finger down his cheek. "What's that look for?"
"You're—you—but you're Romance."
"And Janus is perfectly capable of honesty even though he's Deceit. Just because that's what I represent to Thomas doesn't mean I have to experience romantic attraction." Roman shrugs. "It's not like I'm against it, or for it, it's just…well, like you said. It's not for me."
"But—but—" Logan's still trying to make sense of this image— "but you flirt with the others all the time."
"It's fun."
"It's not fun, it's confusing. I get accused of flirting all the time and I don't even know what I'm doing that counts as flirting."
"Well, they're probably guessing that the way they flirt with you is how you'd flirt back at them."
"But that doesn't—"
He stops again. He furrows his brow. He bolts upright to stare hard at Roman.
"What do you mean, how they flirt with me? They don't flirt with me!"
"Yes, they do," Roman says patiently, "believe me, the only reason I know that is because I walk in on them scheming on how to flirt with you."
"They—you what?"
"Look, just because I'm Thomas's Romance doesn't mean I understand all of it myself."
"Why is this so complicated and confusing," he grumbles, letting Roman chuckle and coax him back into a hug, "why can't everyone just make sense?"
"I don't think they'd be themselves if they made sense 100% of the time."
Logan begrudgingly grumbles an acquiescence, but he doesn't have to like it. Judging by the way Roman laughs again and ruffles his hair, he won't hold it against him.
"You look better," he observes softly, smiling, "do you think you might be able to fall back asleep?"
He toys with the edge of Roman's shirt. Most of the ache is gone, but there's something still lingering that he can't quite figure out how to dissipate. "I don't—alright, this next part is going to sound stupid."
"Great. I love stupid-sounding things."
"They have…they're going to have secrets now. And I…I don't…" He sighs. "Do you remember when Patton told Thomas my name?"
Roman nods. Logan rubs the hem of his shirt between his fingers. After a moment, Roman hums. "They shared something private of yours, and now you don't know how to feel that they know everything about you and you won't be able to reciprocate?"
"When did you get so perceptive?"
Roman just chuckles. "I am sorry about the name thing, I don't—"
"It's fine. It was going to happen at some point."
"Still, Logan, you should've gotten to do that on your terms." Roman drums his fingers against the small of his back. "What if…what if we did it over?"
"Did what over?"
"What if you had a name—or something, that was just a private one? And then you could keep it, it could be your secret, and you could decide how you want to tell them about it, if you ever do?"
Heat begins to color his cheeks. "Like—like a pet name?"
Roman looks down. "If you wanted?"
"Okay."
"If you're not comfortable—"
"If it's you," Logan butts in, "only if it's you."
Roman pauses, looking at him, before a soft smile spreads across his face. "Okay. I'm okay with that. Do you have anything in mind?"
"You're Creativity," Logan mumbles, trying to hide his blush in Roman's stomach, "you think of one."
Roman tugs lightly on his hair in retribution but settles, humming as his fingers card along his scalp. Logan finds himself drifting off under the gentle touch, roused here and there by Roman trying out different names. Starlight is too close to his nickname for Virgil, all the generic ones are taken because the others might use them, anything to do with Logic is too impersonal…
"Erudite."
Logan stirs. He looks up. Roman cups his cheek and strokes his thumb across his cheekbone.
"Erudite," he says again, voice gentle and tender, "what about that?"
A lump appears in Logan's throat.
"Is that okay, Erudite?"
He sniffles.
"Oh, it's okay, Erudite, come here…you fall asleep for me now," Roman coos, cuddling a sleepy, weepy Logan to his chest, "shh, Erudite, it's okay…it's okay, let's try and sleep now…"
The ache in his chest fades away as he falls into a dreamless sleep.