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He was exhausted.
Logan could feel it in every neuron, the headache behind his eyes throbbing with a sharp stab every few seconds. He felt worn, though he hadn’t been up to anything particularly physically strenuous. No, it had all been mental.
The week had been particularly stressful, Thomas’ schedule had been packed. Important meetings stacked tight and several deadlines on a razor-thin timeline, along with a few unforeseen figurative curveballs, of course. He’d reworked the whole week’s schedule more times than he could even hope to remember, more than twice a day at bare minimum.
And while they’d been attempting, the others could only be so… helpful before it turned into yet another frustration.
There were just... too many questions. While he knew they meant well, the repetition of ‘How can we help? What should we do next? We’re here, just tell us what to do!’ had gone stale rather fast. It’s not that he expected them to read his mind or anything ridiculous, but adding onto his work by making him the decision center for everything while he was already figuratively buried underneath a pile of responsibilities wasn’t the help they thought it was.
Patton had hovered constantly, refusing to leave without a given task and fretting every time Logan got frustrated. Of course, when he did show any outward signs of being annoyed, Patton would shrink and tear up, apologizing and self-flagellating, but never actually changing his behaviors, something that Logan hated possibly more than any of Patton’s other terrible habits. Nothing was solved by self-pity, though Patton seemed to be determined to prove otherwise.
Roman had been a ceaseless chatter, throwing outlandish ideas at him one after another without any consideration for the implementation of them, yet another thing that would fall to Logan to solve. And when this was pointed out, the would-be Prince would become irritated and irate, something that did not mix well with Logan’s already short temper. They’d had quite a few spectacular shouting matches over the last week that he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret fully.
Remus had been less than helpful, the understatement of the year, literally cartwheeling through the room and doing his best to make a mess of things, riling the others in the process. When Logan would try to carefully redirect him, Remus would attempt to take the guidance, but it wasn’t long before he was running amok again. Normally he could understand this, react calmly, if at all. But with his overwhelmed mind, it was only too easy for Remus to worm his way through the cracks. Words had been spoken in anger there too, though those he did regret quite a bit.
Virgil… he hesitated to place blame for this on him. It wasn’t particularly fair, all things considered. Virgil had been caught in an impossible position, his very core struggling to cope with the stress of the situation. He’d tried his very best, but Logan had been forced to step away from his work several times to talk Virgil out of an all-out panic. It wasn’t so much Virgil’s panic that was the issue, but that once again he was the one dragged away from pressing issues to be the problem solver. Virgil’s grateful affirmations after each bout, however, did gain him quite a bit of goodwill in Logan’s book. At least he seemed to understand the pressure Logan had sitting on his shoulders.
Even Janus had started to wear on his frayed nerves, and usually the colubrid knew far better. Unceasing catty remarks, egging Remus on despite Logan’s insistence otherwise, and poorly timed offers of wine had earned him quite a sharp snap from Logan. A complete rarity, as the two of them were usually the most likely to hear each other out rationally, and Janus had quietly retreated after the fact. The only redeeming action he could give Janus credit for was that he seemed to have dragged Remus away with him, giving Logan just enough freedom to finish the week without Thomas having another mental breakdown.
Hands firmly braced on the edge of his desk, he pushed himself up out of his chair with a groan.
At least it was over now, and thankfully Janus had insisted before this whole mess started that there be a sizable break before they really started scheduling work again. In a beautiful stroke of genius, he’d suggested a mirrored week with only a few casual engagements that Roman and Patton would take over for, most of the time spent recuperating alone or spending time with Thomas’ friends. Nothing whatsoever that needed Logan’s attention.
He’d have to apologize for snapping later, Janus really had thought ahead for him this time. In the mire of the week, he’d lost sight of that. Guilt started to eat at him, but he waved it away. If anyone could understand overwhelm causing a person to react poorly, it would be the darker side.
He’d stood, he suddenly realized, blinking back to the present and glancing down at himself. Why?
There were things he could do, and they all flashed quickly through his mind. He’d likely need a shower, simply from abstaining for days. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten or drank anything other than coffee. Dear Newton, when was the last time he’d slept properly? No wonder he couldn’t remember the most basic information at this point! His cognitive functions were likely strained to the breaking point without nourishment and rest.
Where there had been a tidy pile of completed accomplishments, suddenly there seemed an insurmountable mountain of vital tasks still left to complete. It was dizzying, and of course the headache he’d been steadily ignoring chose that moment to suddenly resurface, the sharp stabbing now joined by a dull throbbing, forcing his eyes closed due to the threat of nausea mounting.
He’d pushed too hard… again.
Neglecting himself to ensure everything went according to plan had become a terrible habit. What other option did he really have, though? It had been unavoidable, no one else either could or would have stepped into his place and made sure. Not like he did. He just knew shortcuts would be taken, steps followed improperly, and an even greater disaster would have fallen upon Thomas that he would have had to clean up anyway.
No. It was better this way. Even with his head swimming precariously and his stomach threatening to empty itself of nothing but stale air and bile.
If only he could just… get to his bed. But if he let go of the desk edge now, there was a high likelihood of him simply falling over, and a good chance of him injuring himself. He couldn’t just keep standing here, though, it was ridiculous. Looking around for his chair wasn’t an option either, as cracking his eyes open for just a moment led to another unpleasant lurch from his stomach and head at the same time.
Oh, this was bad.
“Logan.”
The tone was soft, careful, and a wave of relief hit him as he recognized Janus, treading lighter than usual. He’d noticed, and particularly quickly this time.
Good.
Loga didn’t think he was still mad. If he was, he’d set it aside for now, the ache behind his eyes too strong to even attempt to muster an emotion.
“Mmm?” It was all he could muster, barely tilting his head. Still, the motion made him wince, screwing his eyes shut even tighter as he gripped his desk like it was the only thing keeping him moored to reality.
Maybe it was.
Hands, gentle but firm, resting on his shoulders. The pressure gave him something to focus on.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” The words were still soft but very familiar, those hands guiding him away from the desk. He allowed it, trusting in the touch, moving mechanically but willingly along, and it wasn’t a terrible surprise to find himself carefully corralled to his nearby bed, those hands pressing just a bit harder to get him to sit on the edge of the mattress.
He let out a relieved breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
It had become an… understanding between them. Janus had been the one to catch him after a particularly difficult time in Thomas’ life years ago, curled up in the dark of his room. He’d been in much the same state then, unable to fight his way out of the task paralysis he’d worked his way into, but it had been one of the very first instances of it, and had sent him into a fevered panic. Instead of the usual mockery he was used to from the deceitful side at the time, Janus had offered him an outstretched, gloveless hand.
“I’ll make the decisions,” He’d offered, voice low and even without a trace of the mischief Logan had been used to. “I’ll take care of you and keep everything running. No nefarious plots or underhanded tricks this time, I promise. Just time for you to relax and recuperate while someone competent handles the minutiae. One last choice to make, Logan, let me take over control for a little while. I’ll keep everyone safe, so you can get some rest. You need it.”
He’d been right. Logan had known it even back then, and had agreed after only deliberating for a moment. But it hadn’t hit him how right until it had happened again. Janus had swept in like he was now, had taken all the impossible choices away and ensured Logan was quietly cared for. It gave him the time to pull himself back together, and Janus had never asked for anything in return.
Perhaps the control itself was enough. Janus had always desired more control, more sway within Thomas. Normally he opposed this for a myriad of reasons, but during these rare moments he knew he could trust Janus to take care of everything properly. He’d sworn it after all, without his gloves masking his intentions.
More of those gentle hands anchored him back to the present, one tugging his tie loose, another removing his glasses, a pair pulling off his shoes and belt. His jeans followed, carefully removed along with his polo, before he was snapped into a far more comfortable pajama set, Janus pulling the covers on the bed back and ushering Logan into laying back so he could tuck the soft sheets around him.
“Here, it’s water. You need to drink.” A cup was pressed into his hand, held up by another of Janus’ many, guided carefully until Logan’s overwhelmed mind finally caught up and allowed him to grip the cup more firmly. “And I know you have to have a nasty headache, take some ibuprofen.” Two small pills pressed into his free palm. He appreciated the autonomy of still doing the action himself, popping the pills into his mouth before the next swig of water, draining the glass. Neither of them liked being coddled, and Janus seemed to understand that in these moments more than he normally let on.
Dehydration and stress, the most likely causes of his headache. Already they were addressed, and he hadn’t even had to think about it. Furthermore, the bed was comfortable, more so when Janus joined him under the covers, cape and hat discarded to more easily pull Logan against his chest, lounging comfortably while readjusting the blankets around them. He didn’t fight it, resting his head in the crook of Janus’ neck, the steady thrum of his pulse rhythmic and soothing against Logan’s temple.
“There you are, that’s it. Just relax.” Careful fingers, bare of the usual gloves, ran through his hair, nails scratching lightly along his scalp. It made him melt, the soothing touch and warm body under his comforting in a way he couldn’t possibly articulate right now. But he was unendingly grateful for it. “You’ve done an amazing job, everything went so well for Thomas. But it’s over now. You can rest.”
The remaining tension seeped away slowly, Janus muttering inconsequential nothings in that low, steady tone. It filled the silence, becoming a sort of white noise that cut off the echoes of Logan’s residual panicked thoughts, the space in his ever-running mind emptying out into a blissful void. He did move then, just a little, enough to wrap an arm around Janus’ waist, to hold him closer while he relaxed more heavily into the other side’s warmth. The steady hand in his hair didn’t pause, but it was joined by another hand running slowly up and down his back, another wonderfully soothing motion. Apparently, his lack of verbal answer didn’t bother Janus so long as he showed some sign of not going completely catatonic.
“Sleep, Logan. I’ve got it all under control now. Rest, you’ve more than earned it.”
The permission was all he’d needed, falling quickly into unconsciousness as soon as his eyes shut.
There was no way he could have seen the small smile flickering across Janus’ lips, so much softer than usual. Perhaps if he had, he’d realize why Janus had never asked for anything in return.
After all, he’d already gotten everything he wanted.