ahhh, here we go! i have been working on this bad boy for almost two months now and it's allllmost done. just a little more struggling and crying over my keyboard, then we're good to go!

so yeah. this, i hope, is an unusual one. while all the stories we have for this little fandom are fabulous, there aren't nearly enough. so i decided, why not contribute junk from the strange, dangerous place i call my mind? let's do this!

if the summary confused you, it basically is like this: logan makes an offer to louise; in one universe she says yes, and in another she says no. the story where she says yes is in regular text. the story where she says no is in italicized text. if you're only here for one pairing, then logan/louise lovers should stick to the regular text, and those who prefer rudy/louise should read the italicized text. as of yet, they really haven't intertwined so there shouldn't be any confusion there if you only do one.

i really tried to stick to vague similarities between louise's two different lives, but in the end the two stories drifted too far apart. hell, maybe it would be better to just separate them into their own fics - but screw it! i'm sticking with this stupid idea. so anyway, i hope ya'll enjoy this. see ya next chapter!

She places a hamburger patty on the grill, watching the juice sizzle around the edges. Her eyes are glazed over out of boredom, fingers frozen on the handle of the spatula as she stands, poised to flip the burger over.

She actually doesn't mind dull days like these. Standing in front of the grill, both feet placed on the worn area where her father has stood almost every day for some twenty years, she's at last able to relax. Her mind drifts away like a leaf in the breeze, and she lets it land wherever the wind takes it.

There is one small problem, however. With a huff and a jingle from the little bell above the door, a revolting blond vermin marches his way into the restaurant, bringing in a swirl of wintry flakes with him. He stomps off the snow caked in his boots and heaves himself onto a stool in front of the counter.

"Hey! I know you're back there," he yells while shouldering off his jacket and, never forgetting his oh-so-classy charm, letting it fall to the floor.

She barely spares a glance through the window to the front of the restaurant. Her only response is a grunt.

"C'mon, Four Ears. It's a special day today!"

Her eyes flick back to the burger, which is now done on one side. The spatula nudges at the edge of the patty, then with a flick of her wrist, the burger lands with a satisfying splat on its other side.

He speaks again, but this time with a tone almost devoid of enthusiasm. "Louise… what's up?"

Her fingers squeeze tighter around the spatula, and she imagines its stained handle as his neck. "Take a goddamn hint, Barry Bush."

Barry Bush, better known as Logan or Thy Royal Asshole, leans over the counter to snag her glare. "What is your problem? It's supposed to be, like, one of the best days of your life!"

"I have every right to be miserable today, just like every other day." She shrugs. "After all, it is my day celebrating me, right? So it is my choice what my mood is."

Logan goes on as if she hadn't spoken. "Ah, I remember my eighteenth birthday… it was wild. Almost as good as my twenty-first. That one had more drinks."

"Well, I wasn't invited to either, so I wouldn't know, would I?"

"Aw, don't be so jealous, Four Ears! You were only, like, twelve or something at the time. Not exactly legal to have a little kid in the bar."

She slams a plate next to the grill and opens up a hamburger bun, then slides the cooked patty into it. "Well, I know just what you're trying to do here, and it's not exactly legal to drink at eighteen, either, pal."

His smirk is venomous. "And when has that ever stopped you in the past? At seventeen? Sixteen? Fif—"

"Shut your damn mouth before I shove this mediocre burger into it!" Louise hisses. She places slices of lettuce, tomato, and pepper jack cheese on the burger, then completes it with a squirt of mayonnaise. She circles out to the front and seconds later the completed burger is dropped down in front of Logan.

His stupidly smug look fades somewhat. "Uh, I didn't ask for anyth—"

"Just eat it," she sighs. "I'll make another one for myself."

Louise observes him, eyes cool and calculated as he takes a cautious bite of the food. "Humph," he says around a mouthful. "You remembered the mayo."

"How could I forget?" she asks, feigning sweetness. "I've only cooked burgers for you, like, twice. Or, wait, was it five hundred times?"

"Not my fault I'm a shit cook."

"Not my fault I was born into a burger family!"

Logan snorts, swallowing the bite. "Burger family. Ha. But really, burger-making is an art."

"My dad isn't here right now; you don't have to kiss his ass—"

"Seriously. You get this art, Four Ears. You're a burger artist. No joke." Logan indulges in another large bite and groans. "Mmm…"

Sweat springs up on the back of her neck, and she turns, ponytail swishing as she retreats back into the kitchen. She needs some distance between herself and those piercing blue eyes and those… weird chewing noises.

"You're an adult now, as of today," his voice creeps in through the window. "You can finally make your own decisions, without having to go through your parents first. So are you coming with me or not?"

Louise takes a deep breath and stares at the pickle-shaped crack in the ceiling. "That'll $5.95 for the burger," she says.

oo0oo

"You're absolutely freaking insane, and if anything goes wrong tonight it will be your fault and it will be you under my father's knife," Louise announces when Logan returns later that evening.

"Whoa, whoa, chill," he says, raising his palms in defense. "Trust me, I'm not planning to get… uh, scalped by your dad or anything. I just want to take you out. It's your birthday, and it's Friday night." There is a pause as she scowls at him and he shivers in the open doorway. "Soo…" Logan lets out a breath. "It's also January, so it'd be nice if you either let me in or we get a move on."

She pulls her bunny ears down more tightly over her head and storms out to his car. Inside, it feels like she is breathing Arctic air and slowly turning into an ice cube.

"Jesus, doesn't the heat work in here?" she demands, teeth chattering.

Logan slides into the driver's seat next to her. "Depends. It only works if the car feels like it." He turns the dial up all the way and strikes the dashboard a couple times, but his efforts are fruitless.

"Well, isn't that fantastic." Louise slouches, watching the ugly little buildings of their town go by through the window. Being the dead of winter, it's already dark outside and at the end of the block are the lights of Wonder Wharf and the boardwalk. The place has gotten more and more run down over the years, and now that it's closed for the season it looks all the more desolate.

The small car turns once, then slides into a parking spot along the curb. Louise frowns, sitting up and looking questioningly at the driver. "Uh, what's wrong? Did this trusty ol' piece of shit break down or someth—"

The kiss is fleeting, but even after he separates from her, the feeling of his lips lingers. This is far from her first kiss— she's certainly been around the bases more than once when it comes to boys (and girls)— but the fact that it's her first one with Logan makes it different. And she hates how unspectacular it was.

Cold car. Frosty fingers. Numb nose. How could his mouth be so warm?

"What the hell?" she whispers.

"Come with me," he says, kicking open his door and jogging around the car to open her door. She scoffs and climbs out herself, slapping away his hand when he offers to help her up.

Her Converse, which are dirty and worn old hand-me-downs from Tina, trudge unenthusiastically along the sidewalk as he leads her up to the closed-up boardwalk entrance. The icy air bites through the holes in her purposely-ripped jeans, and she crosses her arms tighter over herself and her partially-open jacket.

They easily duck under the entrance blocker, and walk some way in silence before they reach one of the outlets to the shore. Louise is now absolutely frigid and fully prepared to wait out whatever dumb shit Logan has planned back in his slightly-less-frigid car.

"Welcome to the beach," Logan tells her with a grin. They head down the wooden stairs, both instinctively skipping the broken steps. When her sneakers land on the sand, the final straw is pulled.

"Alright, Bush. Why are we really here? I mean, I know I've never ever seen the ocean before— it's not like I've lived in a seaside town my whole life or anything— but it's actually not the middle of July right now, believe it or not."

He smirks. "Well, well, well. Little Ms. Sassy Ears here thinks she's so cute with her sarcasm." All at once, the grin is wiped off his face and his eyes lock onto hers with the most serious of expressions. "I gotta tell you something."

Her eyebrows slant. "Yeah?"

And then there's a bucketful of sand being sprayed in her face. She shrieks, spitting out globs of the stuff and taking up chase of her attacker, who is already several yards away.

Who knew sand was so uncomfortable to run on in late January? Without the sun to bake in, it feels like ice crystals battering her face rather than the typical warm grains she is used to. Louise is clearly hanging out with an idiot. Though she knew that already.

She screams his name, but her voice is lost in the wind, and that infuriates her even more. She pumps her legs faster, and sand spurts out behind her in an arc. She can see his tall silhouette closer now, a chuckling shadow bobbing near the water's edge.

At last she collides with him, her head slamming into his chest with satisfying force. The ocean laps hungrily at their shoes, and for an awkward few seconds they dance and twist away from the icy water. Once they're back on the drier sand, Louise plants a slap on his cheek that leaves her palm tingling and one side of his face a tomato red.

"Don't you know that kicking sand in someone's face is a dick move?" Louise demands.

He shrugs. "And slapping someone's face is not?"

"No, not when that someone kicked sand in—"

Logan cuts her off, spinning away and heading farther down the shoreline. Since her hand somehow inexplicably ended up holding his, she has no choice but to be whisked right along with him.

"Whatever," she sighs after a minute, just to kill the silence. "Just as long as you never steal my bunny ears again."

"Why the heck would I do that? Then I'd just have to call you Two Ears, and that wouldn't be any fun."

They walk along for a while, hands clasped and sand sneaking into their socks. They skirt around clumps of snow while filling their lungs with crisp, salty air. After some uncalculated amount of time, the two stop and gaze out at the dark, star-speckled horizon. The moment is so cliché, it actually makes her feel a little nauseous.

"You look like a Founding Father with your hair like that, y'know," Logan pipes up suddenly as they turn to face each other. Before she can protest, he reaches out and pulls out the threadbare holder from her ponytail. As his fingers glide through her hair, she stiffens and grinds her teeth a bit. The feeling doesn't go away even after he's no longer touching her and her hair has fallen down on her back, long and wavy. She hates having her hair down— those stupid thick curls she inherited from her dear mother are impossible to tame with any straightener on the planet.

"Gee, thanks," Louise says, watching him flick the worn-out ponytail holder into the Atlantic. She fidgets and yanks down her bunny ears as far as they will go, until they're practically covering her eyes. Logan observes this and doesn't say anything.

"Isn't it about time to get rid of that silly hat now?"

"You're too old to be wearing that ratty old thing."

"Can't you at least wear a beanie or something in place of that?"

He doesn't say a word. Until he does.

"What are your plans after graduation?"

Woah. She wasn't expecting that.

"I dunno," she mumbles. "I mean… I'll probably stick around town. Work at the restaurant. Probably run it or something further down the road."

He massages the stubble on his face and doesn't speak for a moment. His eyes are shifty as they drift out towards the ocean. "I… I'm probably not gonna be here for long."

She tries not to let her face fall too much. But she can't stop her heart from tumbling all the way down to her feet. "But you just came back," she points out.

"Yeah, and my mother wants nothing to do with me still. I don't have enough cash to pay my next rent, but…"

"My dad can get you a job! It'll be easy!" She hates how desperate she sounds. It's like she is grasping onto thin air, clinging to something just not there— not possible.

Logan crouches down to meet her eyes better. She had never caught the growth spurt bug her siblings did, so she remains the fierce five-foot-two she reached back in middle school.

"Listen, Four Ears, I… I know what I'm about to say might be a lot. Maybe even too much. But… I have just enough money for gas, and that can get me many miles away from this place. Or… that could get us many miles away from this place. D- do you get what I'm saying?"

She nods. "Of course I get it, my skull isn't quite as thick as yours." Her voice is trembling, however, so the insult is hollow and he squashes it effortlessly with another one of those signature smirks.

Her heart has risen again, but it's unsure. She's teetering on the edge of something here— she can feel the electricity of this moment buzzing through her veins. She doesn't even have to squint in the dark to make out those blue crystals on that stupid ugly face of his.

"Well?" he finally asks. She has no idea how long they have been quietly standing there, leaning back and forth on this prophetical cliff edge. Louise has no idea whether or not she wants to fall off it. When she still doesn't respond, Logan drops onto one knee in the sand and starts, "Louise Belcher, will you pretty-pretty-please-with-a-cherry-on-top run away with me?"

"Ugh, get up, you imbecile," she says, and he obeys. "Fine."

"What?"

Louise crosses her arms and scowls into those electric eyes. "I said yes, dumbass."

His puzzled smirk splits into a wide smile, and she falls. She is enveloped into his arms as they crash into the sand and the warmth fills her from her toes to the ends of her hair, this thrilling energy that blazes from one mouth to another. This is the kiss she has been waiting for.

Icy water nips at her elbow, and with a screech she leaps up. She catches a glimpse of him, a flash of lemon-yellow hair in the darkness, and then her ears are gone from her head.

By the time they make it back to his car, panting like dogs and sweating under their heavy clothes, she isn't sure if the bunny ears have made it back onto her head or if they're now containing a tousled mop of blond locks. But then the front seats are reclined and she's being pressed against the cool window and now her torso is bare, and the way he holds her feels incredible; she fits him like a glove. The car is warm now, and the stars loll through the windshield as her eyes roll back into her head, and never in her life has she been more excited to escape this town.

oo0oo

"I can't," she says.

The arms he had been holding up drop. He stays on the one knee, frozen and eyes wide. "Wh— what? Why not?"

"I told you, Bush, I'm planning on staying here after I graduate hell school. My dad and I have already been talking about me taking over the business in the future." She shrugs helplessly. "I can't just leave."

His gaze narrows. "What are you scared of? You really want burger-flipping to be your only future?"

"Sorry, but that's the family business I was born into," Louise snaps. "We're a burger-flipping family. Well, except for… Tina and Gene. But—"

"Exactly! Your brother and sister have gone on to do other things. I always thought you would too. Didn't everyone?"

Louise crosses her arms, tucking her frosty fingers under her armpits. "I guess you were the only one who didn't get the memo."

Finally Logan stands, and he cracks his knuckles awkwardly. "Well," he says.

The ocean's roar drowns out the words that neither are willing to say. They're stuck in a stalemate. They search each other's faces, confused blue meeting stubborn green. After an eon or two, Logan steps forward and takes one of her hands.

"You're not letting this go, are you?" he murmurs.

"I told you, I can't," she repeats.

"But you can stand to let me go?" His voice cracks on the last word, and her heart twists. She hates this feeling engulfing her. She wants to run out into the sea's depths and let the murkiness flood her lungs. She wants to run across the sandy expanse again and tear off Tina's beat-up old Converse and bury her feet in the wet sand and watch all the little sand-dwelling creatures scramble to burrow back in between her toes. She wants to jerk her head back far enough to break her neck and feel that perfect scream tear up her throat and reverberate in her skull. She wants anything but this.

"I…" The words die on her tongue, and he nods affirmatively, as if all the jumbled sentences she wishes she could say are contained in that single letter.

"I'll see you later, Four Ears," Logan tells her. His hand slips away, his touch falling like sand through her fingers. When he turns to go, he doesn't look back.

It takes her two hours to wander her way back home. It is past midnight and her birthday is quite over. She drags herself up the stairs to her family's apartment, and feels like she is in a foreign place. What happened to the sound of Tina's keyboard clacking away, or the weird guttural noises Gene would make to "warm-up his throat for the beautiful exercise of song," or the soft conversation exchanged between Bob and Linda from the kitchen over cups of lukewarm decaf?

Louise knows her parents must be in their bedroom asleep by now. They can't stay up as late as they used to. She creeps into her tiny room, pulling off her ears and collapsing into bed with sandy grit prickling in her socks.

She doesn't understand. Somehow she still fell, but this time there are no arms to catch her.