Logan was still slightly embarrassed by the outfit he had on, but he knew that he had other obligations and he wasn't going to make Carlos suffer just because his shorts were past his knees. Far past his knees. No, no, he was going to hold his head up high and act like he always did when he came home in the morning.
As soon as he first put the key in the slot, he heard the lock unlatch and the door swung open to reveal the Latin boy behind it.
"Thank God!" Carlos exclaimed while ushering Logan into the small apartment, "I was actually starting to get genuinely worried about you."
"Worried. About. Me. At five in the morning," Logan grabbed a chair from the tiny table and spun it so that he was straddling it to sit down, "pfft. Gurl you crazy."
"Very funny," the Latin boy replied, walking back over to the Kitchen area and flipping the pancakes he had sitting on the stove, "but you promised to be here for breakfast."
"And I am," the brunette said, "Or are you making that specially for me."
"Well, no because we haven't had it yet, but that's not the point; you could have missed it. You seriously almost did," Carlos stated while putting the different foods he had made on plates and bringing it to the table.
"Yum, looks … delicious," Logan said with a slightly disdained look, "but question; is the toast supposed to be black?"
"Just go wake tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee up before we eat so that they can have some too; we have a really busy day today," the Latino wasn't done getting everything set at the table, but he had to admit, after seeing what he'd cooked, he had no intention of eating any himself.
"Fine," Logan gave in before trudging over to the two girls asleep on the couch, "wake up."
"You know that that's not going to do shit as far as getting anyone up for breakfast," Carlos interjected while putting the silverware out.
"Laura, Jennifer, wake the frig up or I'm going to beat you with a frying pan."
Immediately both girls jumped from their respective spots on the couch and turned, looking around widely to the setting. One, Laura, had mascara running down her cheek and the other, Jennifer, had her hair stuck to her face from what was either drool or sweat. Logan was genuinely afraid to try to acquire the answer to that.
"God Logan," the blonde girl, Jennifer, moaned, "You sound like some kind of freaky Dominatrix when you yell like that."
"And not in the good way either," Laura, the brunette, joined in.
"I was just following orders," Logan defended before pointing to the Latin boy who had finally finished setting up the table, "He was the one who gave me the orders to wake you two up; how was I supposed to say no."
"You could have interpretive danced for me," Carlos finally interrupted, laughing at his own joke because of how bad a dancer Logan was.
"I'll have you know that I'm a rather good dancer thank you very much and I could have so expressed the words to you through choreography and you're just jealous that you'll never get to see it," the brunette boy replied, finally seating himself at the tiny table.
"Right, you're about as good a dancer as I am mathematician,"
"Oh, so I'm that bad."
"Ha, Ha, very funny Logan, but I take no shame in my poor math skills; I'm rather proud that I don't know what the quantadradiac formula is."
"You mean the quadratic."
"Yeah, that one, and anyway, I don't need math; I'm going to be an actor."
"What if a director wants to scam you out of your proper pay and you can't decide on the formula to use to figure out if he is or isn't."
"That's what I have you for Bro."
"Thanks, I feel so loved at the moment."
"Good, I hope you know you're always appreciated."
"Um-ha, I know," Logan responded sarcastically, taking a bite out of the horribly burnt omelet and swallowing hard.
After a long silence as the three other people in the apartment swallowed their meal as fast as they could to get it over with, Laura finally broke the silence.
"So, how did your nursing job go tonight," the brunette girl asked Logan while she filled her cup of orange juice back up to the brim.
"Yeah, how was it, anything interesting happen," Carlos added on while finishing putting all his books in his bag, "Like, you know, was there any cool blood and guts or like, really romantic old couples their together."
"I don't work for 'Grey's Anatomy' Carlos," the shorter teen started, taking a long sip from the water he had set in front of him.
"You're a night shift nurse, I'm absolutely sure your day turns out like General Hospital at one point," the Latin boy replied while starting to clear the dishes away.
"Nope; it was a boring, uneventful night with the rest of the staff," Logan lied, "nothing particularly interesting at all."
"Well, who gave you the new T-shirt then," Carlos pressed on, pointing to the 'Big Time Rush' shirt that Logan was desperately trying to hide.
"Its prank week down at the hospital and someone replaced all the clothes in my locker with this get-up," the brunette continued the fib, "but other than that, boring."
"Sometimes, I'm convinced your lying to me," the Latin boy continued, making a show out of nothing, "because Prank week doesn't sound boring; Prank week sounds like more fun than three days straight of playing COD."
"Right, because as a Nurse, I'm supposed to know what COD means aren't I," the pale teen quipped back to Carlos who was nodding his head. Then everyone went back to work and quiet fell over the small apartment that Logan was currently cleaning up.
There was very little that Logan didn't tell Carlos, but there was one thing.
Hooking.
That was the only truth his brother didn't know about him. Okay, one of the only truths his brother didn't know. Because Logan just, he just didn't have the heart to tell his little brother how they got the money to pay for school. He couldn't confess that he gave himself up so the Latin boy could succeed in life; he knew the other boy would quit school and try to get a job and help if he found out. And that's exactly what he didn't want.
So instead, he lied that he got a job as a Night Shift nurse at the local hospital and that's how he got paid when he did. He accredited his weird work hours and strange outfits to that. And the weirder thing was, Carlos believed him. He wondered about it sometimes, but silently he thanked any god out there for that. He just wouldn't know how to break it to Carlos.
The rest of the early morning went by much faster than breakfast; Laura, Jennifer, and Carlos left an hour after their last conversation and the brunette was alone for a while. That really didn't last that long though because Carlos ended up rushing back to the house to get his helmet he had left behind for his newest audition. After a lengthy, tiring search for the black thing, Logan found it in the dryer and swiftly sent Carlos off with his protection. His little brother was always doing irresponsible things like that.
And the Latin boy left all of the dishes out from his cooking adventure, so of course Logan had to go through and wash each one individually because of their lack of a dish washer. That was one of the many crappy things about being two young adults living in L.A. with only one being a sole provider. There were a lot of things they were lacking.
The studio apartment they rented was small, but that was mainly because it wasn't a studio apartment at all. It was a 1 bedroom with an itty-bitty room branching off from the combined Kitchen, Dining, and living area. The bathroom was the only other branch which was right next to the bedroom that they had. So in reality, it was a 1 bedroom, but the two boys considered it a studio just cause they wanted too. It followed more of a studio's set up and looked more that way. The master bedroom looked more or less like a closet.
It was small, but the two boys made do and put two, twin beds inside it opposite each other with a small night stand separating the two from full on collision. Most of the time though, they ended up sleeping together on the pull-out couch in the main living area.
Their actual Closet space, consisting of an old gun cabinet they had gotten from a pawn shop and a bureau that the old cat lady next door had given them as a home warming gift, sat a few feet from the kitchen and the TV was at the very center back of the flat.
Logan usually did his best to find the good in all of this though; when he thought of the tiny bed, he reminded himself that they were both shorter people in general. 5'6 and 5'5 respectively, they didn't really have the whole height thing down at all, but they never really complained about it. Personally, Logan enjoyed being short; it meant that he could make people do things for him.
And when he thought about the fact that they slept on the pull-out couch with the two other girls all the time, he reminded himself how lucky he was to be so close to his family. So many other people missed the opportunity to be so tight with their brother.
When he thought of their tiny table, he was thankful that it meant that Carlos didn't cook that much. His culinary skills weren't the best.
And the reason Logan did his best to remind himself of the bright side was because he wanted to save the angst for another time. For the time he was forced to do things that he didn't want to with men and women he barely knew.
In all honestly, Logan did this to separate his two personalities as best he could. He didn't ever want Carlos to meet Hooker Logan and he didn't ever want Happy Logan to go into his line of work with a smile. Because the anger and the angst and the pain was his own silent revenge against his costumers; his easy submission was a reminder that none of it was real. That it was just sex. And that vengeance was good enough for him.
He didn't do much else besides clean for the rest of his time at home; he watched Jerry Springer for a little while before giving up and turning it to the Disney Channel which he semi-hated, semi-loved. After a three hour Hannah Montana marathon, he officially loathed Miley Cyrus beyond the norm. She could strip on as many Gelato trucks as she wanted, that wasn't something Logan could entirely judge, but if she said 'sweet niblets' one more time, the brunette was sure he was going to lose his mind permanently. He could still Party in the USA with her, but he was going to pull one of her fujia hair extensions out if he ever met her in person.
From four to five, he did his best impression of art and ended up scrapping everything he had and trying to challenge himself with math equations. Feeling like a dork, he grabbed his pair of beaten up Hipster glasses a client gave him and stood in the mirror, reading the dictionary to himself for a solid thirty minutes.
From five to six, he grabbed all the make-up he had – which was an extremely limited supply of almost entirely out viles of eye-liner – and practiced different ways of smudging it to look more like pencil and less like liquid without covering his face in black smear.
From six to eight, he worked out to start preparing for the night, Hooker Logan starting to take over his thoughts again while trying to do one-handed push-ups. After miserably failing, he just did crunches for an hour to try to strengthen his core.
And finally, from eight to nine, he tried on different outfits for the night, trying to find something wearable against the cold outside air. Tonight was not a night inside the 'IT' and no matter how cliché it was, he was going to be standing on a street corner and had no intention of freezing his ass of if he didn't have too. So after a long hour of indecision, he finally pulled the skin tight jeans up he wore all the time up and laced the converse that he had in his section of the tiny closet. The Jacket was a harder decision, but he ended up grabbing the worn, slightly fluffy parka he had gotten from a thrift store a few weeks before and put his cigarettes in one of the green things many holes. Ironically, it had no real pockets.
With that, he got out of the apartment door and ran outside, locking it quickly before rushing to catch the bus and barely getting to his spot he liked by the club. Usually when he hooked out by the club, he could get classier cliental. And by classier, he meant, drunk, stupid frat boys and not creepy, older perverts; he wasn't meaning to offend, but he would turn a costumer down if they looked like they hadn't bathed. Cleanliness was next to godliness after all, wasn't it? Plus, Logan was an Escort and if that's what he was, he called the shots and so he got to be picky.
If only that were the truth.
After three hours of waiting and five cigarettes later, the brunette was starting to genuinely worry that he wasn't going to take anyone home that night. And even though the blonde boy from before was big bucks, that still wasn't enough. That would only cover tuition and would help put him slightly ahead of the rent, but it didn't mean he could take a night off.
Finally, he put another folded, white stick up to his mouth and lit the tip, letting the slow burn wake him up to the fact that he had failed when suddenly, a familiar car drove up. A familiar car with a familiar person in the driver's seat.
"Hey there pretty," the driver started, rolling down the car window, "What do you say for me taking you on a ride."
"You actually need an escort," the brunette questioned back, slightly perplexed by the offer, "Okay."
"Actually, I expect a lot more than just your escorting services madame."
"Wait, do I know you?"
Kendall took the sunglasses off and revealed himself, Logan immediately recognizing the car and the driver upon the obstructions removal.
"Yeah, I hope you do, because I just saw you, you know, YESTERDAY."
Logan's eyes darted from side-to-side, "Look Kendall, what are you doing here."
"I enjoyed last night. A lot."
"We aren't dating and I can fend for myself, so you can leave me alone."
"Have you considered that this is for me; have you considered that I might have taken pleasure in that too."
"You- You did," Logan asked, a blush starting to form.
"Get in the car."
"Were are we going."
"Somewhere nice."
"This is just sex, you know that right."
Kendall put the money in Logan's lap when he first took the seat, "Yeah, I do."
"Then let's go."
The blonde put his foot on the gas pedal, storming away from the corner scene in an instant before pulling into a huge hotel, a grand sight with Valet and Limousines in each direction you turned. Kendall led Logan up to a specific room that he reserved and the rest was done behind closed doors.
Later on, the blonde took the brunette home, dressing him in a different coat and BTR shirt with a new pair of black skinny jeans this time. And yet again Carlos asked and yet again, Logan summed it up to pranks by newer staff.
What neither boy realized was the emotions they were setting up with their constant sexual escapades; every time they did that together, their feelings grew more and more. And it would continue like this for a long time, Logan expecting Kendall every night and no longer standing on the Corner, instead waiting to be picked up inside the club. And the blonde never missed the appointment. But feelingless sex is impossible, and as each boy bottled up their emotions for each other, the figurative explosion grew that much more dangerous. And inevitably, it was going to explode.
Author's Note: IMPORTANT. I HAVE A DEAL TO MAKE WITH ALL OF YOU. OK, HERE I GO. I've never hidden the fact that I'm a review whore. My addiction to reviews is only mirrored by the hooker on your street corner's addiction to crack. I said it. Reviews are my crack. And here's what I want from you. I want to take this story to fifty reviews.
IF I GET 50 REVIEWS IN TOTAL ON THIS STORY, I'LL POST SMUTTY CHAPTER EIGHT ON THANKSGIVING.
And not around thanksgiving or near, but on thanksgiving day. For anyone not in America, that would be Thursday of next week I think. I'm a bad American; I don't exactly know. And it sounds like a lot, but it really means like 14 reviews in all on this very chapter. Well, any of them, but I'd prefer this one. So that's what I'd like as a thanksgiving gift from you wonderful people and if I actually got it, it would make me so happy.
Anywho, so everyone post a review, anonymous of not, and if you can't think of anything to say, at least say, "GIVE ME MY SMUTTY KOGAN THANKSGIVING SPECIAL." Just say it. And if I actually get the 14 or more that I'm asking for, I'll do a mega dedication to everyone that does it. If I don't, I may put this story on break for a little while. SO PLEASE FUFILL MY REVIEW SLUTTINESS. You don't even have to have an account, just post it. It's totally possibly. I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER AND EVER FOR IT.
P.S. – To all of you that review on a regular basis anyway, know that I love you like you can't even know. Thanks.
So please, please, please, everyone whose story alerted or just read in general, review. Just one from each of you. It would make my month if I got that show of support and love from you all. You have no idea. Luv Ya. XoXo.
