A/N: Someday I will write an actual serious fic with these boys, and that day will be soon, I promise; the thought of more silly fluffy Minnesota adventures was just calling to me, though. This also... wound up encompassing a lot more things than I meant it to originally. Enjoy!
Technically, the whole thing was Carlos's fault.
Okay, so maybe it was a little bit Kendall's fault for suggesting the prank war in the first place, and maybe it was a little bit James's fault for coming up with the idea of a rope snare (which, to his credit, was awesome in theory), and maybe it was even a little bit Logan's fault for not watching where he was going; but Carlos was the one who actually listened to James and set up the stupid rope thing, and Carlos was the one who somehow neglected to go back and check it afterwards.
Because here was what happened: Carlos set up the rope snare in the woods near Kendall and Logan's street, where much of their prank-warring for the day was taking place. Logan (not surprisingly) was the one to get caught in it, but when he was stuck for a little while and no one was there to help him he maybe, possibly, tried to get himself down.
And in the process he maybe, possibly, a little bit broke his wrist.
And maybe, possibly, none of them realized that until they were eating dinner at the Knights', all fervently planning pranks for the next day, when the phone rang and Mrs. Knight left the table to answer it.
"So did Logan just go home?" Kendall asked idly.
Carlos froze, eyes wide, and swallowed hard.
"…Um," he squeaked. "…Guys?"
James and Kendall glanced to each other and then to him, but whatever he was going to say he didn't get to finish, because Mrs. Knight came back into the room, arms folded. (She looked genuinely, frighteningly angry, which was a pretty rare thing in James's experience with Mrs. Knight.)
"That was Logan's mother," she said, glaring at each of them. "Apparently, over the course of your 'prank war,' he broke his wrist."
"What?" they shouted in unison; Kendall stood up so fast he nearly knocked his plate over, and Carlos nearly choked on his mouthful of spaghetti.
What did you do? James asked Carlos, via a horrified glance, and Carlos shrugged helplessly.
"I'm going over there," said Kendall, turning.
"…No," said Mrs. Knight. "You're not."
Kendall turned slowly back to face her, all uneasy realization, and Mrs. Knight sighed before continuing.
"Mrs. Mitchell," she said, "doesn't think Logan should be spending time with the three of you anymore."
This time, the three of them stared in horror-struck silence, Kendall laying a hand onto the back of his chair as if to steady himself.
"…Wh-what?" Carlos said, voice small.
"Mrs. Knight," James piped up, "we're really, really sorry."
Carlos glanced to him before nodding in agreement. "Really, really, really sorry."
"We didn't mean to!" said James. "So, I mean, maybe if we could just go over there and explain—"
Mrs. Knight shook her head. "I'm sorry, boys," she said, a little sadly, "but it's really not that simple."
"It's not fair, though!" Kendall snapped, and for a few seconds James honestly thought he was going to break something.
Mrs. Knight glanced at him for another second before softening. "…No," she said. "It's not."
"So what do we do?" said James.
"…Nothing," said Mrs. Knight, partway between admonishing and apologetic.
"But—" Carlos started, and she held up a hand.
"I'm going to talk to Mrs. Mitchell soon," she said, "but for now I think the best thing to do is to listen to her, and to give Logan some space for a few days. Alright?"
James and Carlos nodded slowly; Kendall just stared at the ground.
"It'll be okay," Mrs. Knight said, and he didn't quite look like he believed her.
They proceeded to give Logan some space for the rest of the weekend, and they didn't see him at all Monday morning—not on the bus, not at his locker, not until first-period English, where he walked in later than the three of them and didn't meet their eyes as he took a seat in front of them. (He had a cast, which under normal circumstances would be awesome, but right now was just making James feel even guiltier than he had before.)
"…Logan," Carlos whispered, after he'd sat down. "Logaaaaan."
Logan took out his notebook and proceeded to ignore him.
"Logan!" said Carlos, louder, and then, when he still didn't respond: "Oh my god, did we accidentally make you deaf, too?"
"Mr. Garcia," the teacher snapped, and Carlos winced.
"Sorry," he muttered, shrinking into his seat.
Halfway through class, Carlos tapped James on the shoulder and slid a piece of paper onto his desk, gesturing frantically towards Logan the whole time; it was a miracle none of them got caught for passing notes more often, really, if this was what usually passed for subtle with Carlos. James flipped over the paper.
Dear Logan, it said, in Kendall's handwriting. We're so so incredibly sorry that we broke your wrist. We really hope you can forgive us, but if you can't you should probably let us know. This was followed by a series of scribbles and then a hasty Talk to us.
Below that, in Carlos's capslock scrawl, it said, PLEASE.
James stared at it for a minute before adding, We miss you, and decided against dotting the "i" with a star. He waited until the teacher's back was turned before sneaking the note onto Logan's desk; Logan read it over once, folded it in half, and placed it inside his notebook.
Which, James supposed, was a start.
During math, he had a burst of inspiration. Logan had seated himself on the opposite side of the room, so passing notes was sort of out of the question; but as soon as James got a chance, he raised his hand.
"Mr. Dren?" he said. "I, um, I don't understand."
Mr. Dren blinked. "O-oh," he said. "…Well, what aren't you understanding?"
"Everything," James answered, deadpan. "I think someone should explain it to me."
"…Oh," Carlos whispered, as the plan dawned on him; they each glanced quickly over to Logan, who seemed to be intensely engrossed in his textbook.
"…Okay then," said Mr. Dren slowly. "…Is there anyone who thinks they can explain what we just went over?" (Even he looked to Logan, James noted, but Logan just kept on staring at the textbook like he was trying to burn a hole in it with his eyes. So maybe none of them were very good at being subtle.)
Clare, finally, seemed to take pity on him, and raised her hand and started explaining. James didn't hear a word of it.
James caught up to Kendall after their last class. "So we need to talk to him, right?"
Kendall nodded once, firmly. "Come on," he said, and headed off in the direction of Logan's locker.
"Wait," said Carlos, glancing after him. "We're what?"
"Talking to Logan," said James, taking him by the wrist and following after Kendall.
"But we—" Carlos looked from Kendall, up ahead, back to James, and then fell silent.
Logan was already at his locker when they saw him, looking kind of bewildered as to what to do with a huge stack of textbooks and only one hand. "Logan!" Kendall called, and he jumped.
They all hurried over as he closed the locker. "I'm not supposed to be talking to you," he said quickly.
"I know," said Kendall, shaking his head. "Logan, we're—I mean—we didn't—"
"Carlos is sorry," James chimed in.
"I—hey!" said Carlos.
"Well, it was your fault," said James.
"That's not—" Carlos began.
"It was all of our faults," said Kendall. "And Logan, we're all really sorry."
James nodded. "And we promise it will never happen again."
"…Can you forgive us?" asked Kendall.
Logan bit his lip for several seconds and then nodded slowly. "…Yeah," he said, and Kendall grinned. "But that's not the point," he continued, "because I'm still not supposed to be talking to you."
He looked down at the ground and adjusted his backpack on his shoulder. "My mom keeps saying you're a bad influence," he said, looking back up at Kendall; and even though James was aware of how hard it had been for them to go a day and a half without Logan, it wasn't until he saw Logan's eyes, sad and desperate and almost lost, that he realized how much this was killing all of them.
"We're not a bad influence!" said Carlos, glancing to James. "…Are we?"
"We're totally not!" said James hurriedly. "We're an amazing influence. Like, we, um… we taught you how to play hockey! Well, how to be good at hockey. Actually, I guess that was mostly Kendall, but it still counts!"
"And we show you how to have fun!" said Carlos. "And we keep you from doing so much homework that you turn into a homework zombie!"
James's face fell slightly. "…We're probably not helping our case too much, are we?"
Logan shook his head.
"Can't we—isn't there anything we can do?" asked Kendall, who'd remained fixated on Logan this entire time.
"…I don't know," said Logan quietly, drawing away. "…I don't think so. I mean, not right now."
"When?" said Kendall, and Logan shook his head again.
"I don't know," he repeated.
"…What if," James said, "what if we convinced your mom that we were a good influence? Then would she—then would she let you talk to us again?"
"…I don't know," said Logan, starting to turn away. "I don't know, maybe, I—I have to go, I'm getting picked up. I'm sorry." He hovered for an instant longer before turning and heading down the hall.
"…Now what?" asked Carlos, once he was gone.
"Now," said Kendall, "we think of a plan."
It was funny; James had never considered the possibility that Logan might be vital to Kendall's plan-making ability, but apparently he was, because the three of them had been sitting on the floor of Kendall's bedroom for hours and Kendall hadn't come up with anything. It was like Logan's presence was a single tiny gear in the huge, complicated, plan-making machine that was Kendall's brain.
"…This is just like Romeo and Juliet," James announced idly, staring at the ceiling. "Except there are four of us. And we're all dudes." He fell backwards with a heavy sigh. "I thought that living in a Shakespeare play would be exciting, but it actually sucks."
"Can I be Juliet?" asked Carlos. "Wait, wait, no, I want to be one of the pirates!"
"…There are no pirates in Romeo and Juliet, Carlos," said James.
Carlos stared at him quizzically. "Well, then why does anybody read it?" he asked.
"That's it!" said Kendall suddenly, and they jumped.
"…What's it?" said Carlos, confused. "Pirates?"
"No, not pirates," said Kendall. "Romeo and Juliet."
"…What?" said James.
"I have a plan," Kendall said by way of explanation, standing up. "Come on."
And that was how the three of them came to find themselves in a tree outside Logan's bedroom window.
"I'm pretty sure this isn't how Romeo and Juliet worked," James whispered, for the tenth time. "Like, I'm pretty sure Romeo was on the ground. And there was a balcony involved."
Kendall, for the tenth time, rolled his eyes. "I didn't say we were recreating Romeo and Juliet," he said. "It was just what gave me the idea."
"…Well, it's not a very good idea," said James. "It's pretty terrible, actually. If this doesn't work you're no longer allowed to come up with ideas. I will take over that job."
"Why can't I come up with the ideas?" Carlos asked from behind James.
"…You can maybe come up with some of the ideas," James said.
"Sshhhhhh!" hissed Kendall, and they fell silent.
Here was the thing about the tree outside Logan's bedroom window: it was really, absurdly, incredibly tall. It also happened to be one of the best climbing trees in the neighborhood, and there also happened to be one particular branch from which—if you were acrobatic enough—you could climb through the window into Logan's room. (Not that any of them had ever tried it, of course, but if they had to—if Logan's house was overrun with ninjas and they had to sneak him out of there—they could.)
Logan was sitting at his desk, studying as usual but switching awkwardly between taking notes and flipping pages with his one good hand; James glanced over and met Carlos's eyes, both of them equally guilty, and, okay, he decided, maybe this was mostly all of their faults.
But they would fix it. They always did.
"Alright," Kendall muttered, shifting position, and took the pebble out of his pocket and flicked it at Logan's window.
Logan jumped at the sound, looked over his shoulder, and proceeded to nearly topple out of his chair once he saw them—James grinned and half-waved, and Logan stormed over to the window and threw it open.
"Hi, Logan!" Carlos chirped.
"What are you doing here?" Logan hissed, his voice at that absurdly high pitch it always reached when he was panicking. "Kendall, your mom's downstairs talking to my mom right now, you know that, right? If they find out you're here, then—"
"I know," Kendall said quickly. "I know. But we… we need to talk to you. It's important."
Logan glanced to the door, biting his lip. "I told you," he said, "I don't know—"
"I know," said Kendall again. "But there's something that I—that we—really need to say. Now."
Logan exhaled and looked at them. "…Okay," he said quietly.
Kendall seemed to take a moment to gather his thoughts before he spoke. "…I think your mom might be right," he said finally. "I think we might be a bad influence."
"Kendall, I don't think that's how this conversation is supposed to go," said James, but Kendall ignored him and continued.
"I mean, you wouldn't have broken your wrist if it weren't for us, and we've probably gotten you in trouble… way more times than you would have gotten in trouble otherwise." He paused. "But the thing is, Logan… you're a good influence on us. You keep us from doing too many stupid things, and you actually think things through ahead of time, and we just—we need you."
James nodded emphatically, feeling like he should contribute something to this conversation. "Yeah," he said, "plus, I can't understand math unless you explain it to me."
"You can't understand math because I always do your homework for you," said Logan.
"…That's true," said James.
"Anyway," said Kendall. "That's… that's just what we needed to say."
Logan looked at them, and swallowed hard, and opened and closed his mouth a few times like he wanted to say something but didn't know how to say it—and it was at that exact moment that Kendall lost his balance.
Maybe the wind picked up, or maybe James shifted his weight by accident, but whatever it was Kendall gasped sharply and flailed a little before starting to slip off the branch.
"Kendall!" James and Carlos shouted at the same time, but it was Logan who nearly dove out of the window, Logan who caught hold of Kendall's wrist with his good hand, Logan who stopped him from falling.
They stayed frozen for what felt like several minutes, Logan staring wide-eyed before glancing to where Kendall had one leg still vaguely hooked around the tree branch. "Can you—"
"I don't know," said Kendall.
"…Here," Logan murmured, and half-hauled Kendall through the bedroom window, where they collapsed on top of each other in a heap.
"Ow," hissed Logan.
"Oh, god, I'm sorry," Kendall said, scrambling to stand up. "Are—are you okay?"
"…Yeah," said Logan, smiling for the first time in what was pretty much forever. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Kendall grinned and helped him to his feet, and for three seconds everything was exactly like it was supposed to be.
Then Mrs. Mitchell's voice came floating up the stairs. "Logan?" she called. "What's going on up here?"
"…Oh god," Logan whispered, looking to the door, and all four of them realized at once that there was nothing they could do.
The door swung open and Mrs. Mitchell stepped into the room, Mrs. Knight behind her, and for a moment they all just stared at each other in shocked silence.
"…Hi, Mom," said Kendall with his most winning smile. Carlos waved timidly.
And then things sort of exploded.
"What is going on here?" said Mrs. Mitchell, snatching Logan by his non-broken wrist.
"Mom, wait—" said Logan.
Mrs. Knight looked from them back to Kendall. "Kendall—" she said, kind of angry but mostly disappointed.
"…I'm sorry," said Kendall quietly.
"We can explain!" James called, scrambling through the window.
"…Yeah," said Carlos, following. "'Cause we, um, we were talking about Romeo and Juliet, and then—"
Mrs. Knight sighed heavily. "We'll—we'll talk about this at home, alright?" She looked to Mrs. Mitchell. "I'm really sorry, Susan, I didn't—"
"Mom—" said Kendall.
"If we could just—"
"We're going home," Mrs. Knight repeated, firmer.
Mrs. Mitchell shook her head. "I can't believe—"
"Mom, don't—"
"We didn't mean—"
"Can we just—"
"Stop!" came Logan's voice, suddenly, and they all turned; even Logan seemed surprised by the outburst, but he swallowed hard and looked up at Mrs. Mitchell.
"Just," he said quieter. "Just stop for a second. I know that you—that you think they're a bad influence on me, a-and I'm glad that, that you're looking out for me, and stuff, but—" He looked to the three of them. "But they… they climbed a tree to make sure I was okay—shouldn't that count for something? And I know that they accidentally broke my wrist, but we were—we were having fun. More fun than I've ever had with anyone else." He looked at Mrs. Mitchell and swallowed hard, straightening. "…I don't know if… if they're maybe not the kind of people you've always expected me to be friends with, but you have to understand that I care about them. Maybe—maybe more than I've ever cared about anyone. And I'm pretty sure that no matter what happens, they're going to keep doing—" He gestured toward the still-open window. "—things like that."
He glanced at Kendall and seemed to hold back a smile. "…For me," he added, in a way that was directed just at the three of them.
Everything was quiet for a long moment; then Mrs. Mitchell met Mrs. Knight's eyes before resting a hand on Logan's shoulder.
"We'll talk about this," she said quietly. "Okay?"
"…Okay," said Logan, and James knew, at that moment, that everything was going to work out alright.
(Not that he hadn't always known, but, you know. It helped.)
Exactly one year later, the four of them found themselves seated around the Knights' dining room table, as Kendall laid a single sheet of paper in front of them.
"'Amendment the First,'" he read. "'If, for any reason, a prank should cause harm to a participant, an immediate and temporary truce shall be called until the participant's well-being is assured.'" He grinned at Logan. "How was that?"
"Perfect," said Logan. "James Madison would be proud."
James considered asking who James Madison was but thought better of it. "Henceforth," he announced, "known as the Logan Amendment!"
"Henceforth!" Carlos echoed.
"Verily!"
"Forsooth!"
Kendall rolled his eyes. "So," he said, folding his arms. "Are we ready to get started?"
"Absolutely," said the three of them at once.
Everything was exactly, perfectly, completely as it was supposed to be. The second prank war began.