48. Party

Logan Mitchell was not one for parties. He didn't like to dance. He didn't like to drink. He didn't like loud music, or chaos, or crowds. He got nervous and awkward around pretty girls, and he wasn't very good at making friends or starting conversations, and there was never anything to do anyway. Except talk to people. And eat whatever shit hors d'oeuvers (or Ruffles, depending on the party) they had out for the losers like Logan that were too lame to 'party' or whatever.

He begged James to drop him off at the library, but James had insisted that he come out of his shell and go to the stupid party. Coming out of his shell sounded like a load of bullshit when he could be curled up on the couch with a book.

It sounded like rotting, flaming bullshit when he was leaning against someone's kitchen counter with a freaking Sprite (yes, the kind without alcohol) in his hand trying to ignore all the noise and people. If James wanted him to come so badly, he should have at least tried to, you know, not ditch him to go be the centre of attention.

And, speak of the devil, here came the fuckwit himself. Logan sighed, trying to make himself invisible in the darkness as James sidled up right next to him, touching carefully at his bangs and disregarding Logan.

"Can I help you?" Logan asked, raising a dark eyebrow at the other.

"Just seeing how you're doing," James replied smoothly, looking over at a group of badly dancing, boozed out, underdressed people, seeming sort of distracted. It wasn't that hard to get distracted; people did all sorts of bullshit stuff when ninety percent of those attending were drunk or stoned or a combination of the two.

"Well, James," Logan began, setting his soda down on the counter and giving his friend a dry look. "This party sucks balls, and I haven't got anything accomplished besides standing here and waiting for you to be done fucking around so we can go home. And I have homework to do. You should have brought Carlos."

"Carlos is over at Guitar Dude's place having major pot smoking buttfucking fun," the taller of the two explained, choosing to ignore the rest of Logan's dissatisfied sentiment.

Logan looked up at James, giving him a pleading look that he knew would get him nowhere. "Come on, take me home."

James stared back.

"Please? My life is wasting away before my very eyes."

"Then do something," James suggested, acting like it was the most obvious answer in the world and he was wasting his breath even saying anything.

Logan pressed both palms to his face, the cold counter pressing into his back uncomfortably. He was starting to get a headache from the shit music blasting throughout the condominium, sweaty from the unrelenting heat of Los Angeles.

"See her?" James asked, and Logan uncovered his eyes to look where his bandmate was pointing. There stood the typical sort of chick that James would go for, a blond in a short but summery and somehow un-slutty purple dress that was standing by herself with a colourful drink in one hand.

"Yeah, she's hot, I'll go get the car and wait for you to go seduce her," Logan sighed, looking at the girl simply because he had nowhere better to look. Honestly, he couldn't bother even trying with girls anymore, because he just made a fool of himself.

"Oh, no," James said in that voice that suggested he had a really stupid plan. "She keeps looking over at you, and you're complaining about not doing anything, so go, she's all yours."

"Yeah, I don't know," Logan said, scooting towards the door a little in a not-so-subtle implication that he wanted nothing more than to go home and veg out on the couch.

"C'mon, dude, she's hot."

Logan sighed, sizing the girl up. He would have no objections to fucking the life out of her, sure, finding himself staring a little stupidly and imagining how her legs would feel against his hands, or against his waist, and that was the least of it. However, he knew he didn't have a chance.

"But James, you know I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to say to chicks."

"Then go figure it out," he told Logan, gesturing towards the girl in the purple. Logan honestly didn't feel like humiliating himself for no reason at some piece of shit party. He shied away from the counter slightly, which was thrumming with the obnoxiously loud bass beats of the music and making his chest hurt.

"James," he whined, feeling more sticky and humid than ever and wanting to be in his air conditioned apartment with just the guys and Kendall's family even more than he wanted the chick James was looking over at all over him.

"Need help?"

"I need help getting home." Logan folded his arms across his chest, deeply unimpressed.

"Need help with girls?" James smirked, looking away from Logan and doing a terrible job of feigning innocence.

"You know that, asshole, no need to rub it in."

James turned back to Logan, giving him the kind of look you'd give to a guy in a horse suit that was applying sunscreen to a bowling ball. "What about rubbing in assholes?"

The music was too loud to hear the sound of Logan's palm hitting his face.

"Goddamnit, James, you're so stupid, and the answer is yes, but you already knew that, and I said nothing about ass rubbing or anything of the sort. Although I assume you already knew what I said, and you're just being a moron, because that's what you do."

James looked a little put out. "I'm serious, man, I think you deserve some action and I just figured I could give you some advice, or something."

Logan rolled his eyes, pushing himself up to sit on the counter. "Tip number one, don't be Logan."

"Come on, man, just…pretend I'm her. What would you say?"

Logan tried to be serious, partly because he wanted to humour James and get the fuck away from the party, and partly because he figured he had to become less of a loser at some point. Maybe.

What would he say to her? God, he didn't know. He'd never had a way with words, or tact, or anything you need to ask a girl out. He turned to James. It honestly wasn't that hard to pretend he was a chick; he had makeup on for Christ's sake.

"Hey," Logan breathed out, his voice sounding tight and awkward.

"Wrong," James interjected before Logan said anything more. "You need to be more relaxed, for one thing. You sound like you're talking to a fucking ninja axe-murderer. It's just a girl, the worst that could happen is you get rejected."

Being rejected was not fun. He took a deep breath, calming himself down. It's not like he was actually asking her out, he was just talking to idiot James, one of his best friends.

"Hey," he said, the word coming out more smoothly this time as he slid closer to James.

James raised his eyebrows, Logan preparing himself for another reason why he was doing this all wrong.

"Hey," James replied in a falsetto, smirking and looking Logan up and down in what the latter hoped was just James' acting skills put to use. Because otherwise the whole thing would be, in Logan's opinion, pretty gay.

"Y-you wanna dance?" he asked hopefully, trying not to grimace at his inevitable stuttering. He did not want to dance with James.

"Yeah, sure," the taller of the two agreed, still in the most freaking annoying high pitched voice Logan had ever heard. Nonetheless, it was better than the voice Logan used last time he was in drag being a girl.

James threaded his arms around Logan's neck and Logan froze up.

"J-James," he stammered. "I don't know how to dance." He blushed furiously, looking down at his feet and realising all he knew how to do were the gay choreographed moves he had to learn for the band. Which were in no way suitable for a party.

James sighed, looking fed up at his lack of general life skills. "Then- ugh, do you seriously want me to teach you how to dance?"

"I'll have you know that this was your idea and that I honestly have no chance of getting that girl."

"Well," James mused, still with his arms over Logan's shoulders. "What if- damnit."

"What?"

James smiled brightly. "That didn't work. Okay. You're right, let's go home."

*

Logan set down his book, feeling tired physically but not mentally. Part of him wanted to burrow down in his bed and get a good night's sleep, but the rest was bored. He pushed himself up off the bed, scratching at his chin as he exited the room and shuffled down the hallway.

James was on the couch, sitting there staring into his iced tea and looking just as bored as Logan.

Logan ran a hand through his hair, plopping himself down next to James and stretching his legs out across the other's lap. James looked up at him, setting down his drink and yawning.

"Sup," he greeted him sleepily, resting a hand on Logan's shin and sinking back into the orange couch.

"Ey."

Logan looked at James out of the corner of his eye, aware of the other studying his face but pretending not to notice. He stretched out his arms, slinging one over the back of the couch and glancing over at the kitchen.

The bathroom door opened and a disheveled Carlos walked out, heading towards the room he shared with Kendall.

"Hey fags," he said in acknowledgement of James and Logan, disappearing down the hallway with a tired thumbs-up.

"James?" Logan asked tentatively, reminded of the other's strange actions earlier. Logan had found himself thinking about the whole thing with James trying to teach him how to approach the chick and then saying whatever about it not working. He was, admittedly, kind of demoralised that James had given up that easily, despite the fact that he did want to get home as soon as possible.

"Hmm."

"What did you mean about it not working?"

James gave him a slightly confused look, knowing full well what he was talking about.

"You know," Logan explained hastily, "After I said I couldn't da-"

"Yeah, yeah," James interrupted, fixing his hair compulsively and glaring weakly at Logan. "I was just, you know, being retarded, forget it." He waved a hand dismissively, but it wasn't enough to stop Logan's curious nature.

"C'mon, was it because I'm such a fucking loser? You can tell me, I won't be offended."

Maybe he would be offended, but answers came before his feelings when he didn't know something.

"No, I- Logan, if I tell you something, will you, like, not be weird about it?"

"I can't make promises, dude, I think I'd be weird about it if you, like, killed Kendall's mom or something. But you know you can tell me whatever you've been thinking."

"I dunno." James listed a hand through his long hair, which was a sign that something was really, really bothering him. Logan knew that James wouldn't just mess up his hair for nothing. He looked worriedly at James' bangs brushed back from his forehead, a few errant strands on the wrong side of his part.

"I'm like, your best friend, bro," Logan said, anxiously pressing his heel into the couch on the other side of James' lap. "You can tell me anything. Is it a girl?"

James shook his head, then looked at the blank screen of the television thoughtfully. "Sort of. Not really."

"I've got it," Logan exclaimed, pointing at James knowingly. "You're secretly a chick."

James let out a short laugh, shifting underneath Logan's legs. "Close enough."

Logan had to think about that one. "Come on, man, out with it."

"All right, I guess I have to tell you," James breathed tersely, glancing over at Logan as if looking for him to say 'oh no, it's okay, it's your secret, blah, blah,' but Logan did nothing of the sort. He was dying to know. James looked at the orange leather intently, taking his hand off Logan's knee and biting at his lip. "That whole thing about teaching you how to deal with chicks was a plot to, I don't know, kiss you or something."

The whole thing kind of stumbled out all in one tight breath. "There, I said it, whatever."

Logan sat there and looked at James' reddened face, because that was the craziest stupidest thing anyone had ever said to him (with the exception of Carlos' every word). "You wanted to kiss me?"

James couldn't bring himself to look at his friend, choosing instead to bury his face in his hands and draw in a deep breath. This was awkward. Really fucking awkward.

"Yeah. You know. Like. Yeah, I guess," he said, figuring he should say something but not really knowing what.

In all honestly, Logan didn't know what to say either. He took his legs back off James' lap, sitting on the edge of the couch and deciding what to tell the other. As far as he knew, he definitely wasn't gay or anything, though he hadn't really given it much thought.

"Umm, so, did you, like, want to?" Logan felt himself blushing, looking away towards the door in hopes that James wouldn't notice. That was a really fucking stupid thing to say.

James laughed nervously. "Do you?"

"I don't know," the black haired boy replied honestly, scratching at his thigh absently and looking everywhere in the apartment that wasn't James. Now was one of those times where Mrs. Knight needed to come in and offer them sandwiches, because, fuck, the heat would not go down from Logan's face and he felt completely out of his comfort zone.

"Then let's just forget about this."

Logan's curiosity always managed to get the better of him, every time.

"Let's just…like, try?"

James stared at the carpet, chancing an occasional glance at Logan out of the corner of his eye. He mostly wanted to say no, because things could only get more and more uncomfortable from where they were. But the answer was yes, yes, yesyesyes, because it was Logan. Maybe a lot of people wouldn't agree with him, but he had developed this strange attraction to the other and was incorrigible.

"I. That's kind of. Fine. But just once," he decided, hesitating before adding a hurried "if you want to".

James finally turned towards him on the couch, bowing his head slightly and looking somewhere around Logan's stomach, anywhere but his face. The couch groaned as he moved to a cross-legged position, holding onto his ankles as he finally managed to look up at Logan.

Logan smiled anxiously, placing a hand on James' shoulder and leaning forward a little. The latter smoothed his hair down, moving towards Logan and bringing them closer, though neither wanted to be the first to close the distance between them.

James brought a hand up to the side of Logan's face, calculating every single fucking aspect of the scenario and deciding what to do. There had never been this much thought involved in him going to kiss anyone; there were never so many things to think about and worry about. Come on, Logan, he thought, feeling his palm start to sweat against the other's jawline.

Why did this have to be so fucking difficult?

Logan laughed, at what James couldn't know, using his other hand to tilt James' chin up and moving in so that their lips were just barely brushing together, feeling his heart beat rise erratically, pounding against his ribs and trying to get the hell out, feeling an unnecessary rush of nerves and adrenaline.

James composed himself as much as he could, pressing forward and jerking back just as soon. Logan's lips were really soft.

Logan drew his hands back, raising his eyebrows and scrubbing at the back of his hair.

"S-sorry," James stuttered out, having never been this nervous in his whole life. "I was, um, surprised, I-"

"Yeah," Logan sighed, his tone giving James a sinking dreading feeling. He was kind of hoping that he was going to get a second try, but that was kind of out of the picture by that point. Logan chewed on his lower lip, sneaking glances up at James' face every few seconds. He could still feel the faint remnants of pressure on his mouth, and he sort of wanted it back.

"J-James, can I- "

He gave up trying to articulate anything he was trying to say, lunging forward and planting his lips somewhere at the corner of James', staying there with his eyes closed for a long, painfully awkward moment before James turned his head to the side and let their mouths slip together. The smaller boy felt another sickening wave of nerves, hand slipping up to the back of James' neck in fear that he would pull away again. He didn't, kissing Logan in shaky but hungry motions and pretending like it didn't feel so damn good.

Logan drew back too soon, looking down with his lips parted and breathing in slow and hard. That so did not just happen. He so did not just sort of somewhat almost make out with James.

"Well," Logan said, drawing in a deep breath and turning towards the television. "That was kind of awesome."

James nodded, lips pursed.

"Let's forget it ever happened."

James nodded again, standing up and brushing the imaginary dust from his pyjama pants before heading off to his bedroom. "On one condition," he called over his shoulder.

Logan's head snapped up at this. "James, I'm not going to f- what condition?"

He grinned sheepishly, surprised to be smiling when he was so fucking embarrassed. "You come to that one chick's party with me Saturday?"

Logan sighed, sinking back into the couch.