Hey y'all! New chapter! I literally started writing this in school. With a teacher not five feet away. Oh well. I am perfectly aware yesterday was Logan Mitchell's birthday (according to the wiki) and I am also perfectly aware of how active 1LoganHenderson was on Twitter today? It was lovely.

And now we have a new surprise on Monday, February 21st to look forward to.

Anyway. Here we go. It's the sixth grade dance.

Basically Logan vs hair gel and also some Cargan!

Happy reading! Enjoy!

Logan wasn't going to do it. There was simply no way he was going to do it. There was no way that he was going to walk over there and do it.

Carlos tried to drag him over to make up for Logan's immobility.

"You'll do awesome! Just say all that stuff that James says. Everyone wants to go to the dance with him."

Logan whined, throwing his head back in despair. "But I don't remember what James says!"

He didn't remember any of the helpful things James had told him, if anything had been helpful at all.

The only thing Logan could remember was how James stared at his mirror. And constantly referred to himself in the third person. It was grammatically incorrect, for one thing, and self-absorbed, for another. How was being grammatically incorrect and self-absorbed at the same time supposed to help him get a date?

Logan was not self-absorbed. And he would even go so far as to participate in a mega size corn dog eating race, drenched in a mixture of his own sweat and several vicious condiments, opposing Carlos, before he dared to be grammatically incorrect.

Carlos shrugged. "It's easy, Logan. All you have to do is—"

And, with an immense lack of grandeur or coordination, Carlos pushed him right into Debbie Crawford, the smartest, most beautiful girl in the whole sixth grade class.

Logan laughed, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists.

"Carlos!" Logan hissed at his friend, who smirked.

It looked like when James smirked, when he was looking at himself in the mirror, or determining how high he would have to hold Logan's notebooks above his head until the smaller boy started jumping and screaming at him. It wasn't very high. James was too tall.

"I–uh—bleep, blap, bloop—um…"

Debbie opened her mouth. It closed, opened again.

Logan wanted to start again.

"I—um, wow, this—bleep, blap, bloop—uh…"

Carlos pulled him, hooking him backwards with his elbow. "You sound like a robot! I didn't know you could speak Robot-Beep. But I don't think Debbie understands Robot-Beep language."

"Obviously not."

Because it's not a real language, it's just Logan's nerves rendering his linguistic abilities useless.

"I think you should say real words," Carlos offered, like it was that simple, when it wasn't.

That's what Logan wanted to do, say real words. He wanted to say Debbie, will you please go to the dance with me? But he could not.

"Debbie," he managed to force out.

Debbie looked up, but he avoided her gaze. He focused instead on her curly hair, curled in ringlets, like deoxynucleic acid tendrils. But blonde and probably soft.

Debbie laughed, her face scrunching up, the deoxynucleic acid shaped tendrils of her hair swaying slightly. "What?"

"I think that's a compliment!" Carlos chimes in. "Logie always has to compliment people with science stuff."

Logan turned, taking a step forward, towards Carlos, away from Debbie. He could already feel the blush in his face, creeping up his neck like an inflammatory response.

"What did I say?" he asked. "I didn't mean to."

Carlos shrugged. He grinned at him with his teeth. Then he let the grin dissolve, instead pulling his face into a contemplative expression.

"I don't really know what you meant, I think it was something about—acid? I don't think it matters, she doesn't care."

But Logan cared. He had already reached the conclusion that he was done with this. He didn't want to go to the dance in the first place, and he had even less of a reason to go now, dateless.

Well, they were boys, not girls. If anything, they would all find themselves playing video games on Kendall's couch the night of the dance if it didn't work out.

Finding a date, however, always worked for James. Sometimes he found five or ten. Kendall could find someone by himself. Carlos would take one of James's many dates. Logan could probably take one of James's dates too, but he didn't want to.

He wanted to take Debbie Crawford.

"Debbie," Logan said again, slowly.

She looked up at him and smiled. "Logan."

"Will—"

He paused, trying to get the next word out of his mouth. This was a bad idea, why did he even do this in the first place? He was stupid, he was socially awkward, socially inept, and completely irrelevant. Why would Debbie want to go to the dance with him?

She wouldn't. This was a terrible idea.

He needed to leave. He needed to turn around.

His feet were firmly planted on the ground.

"You go to the dance with me?" Debbie finished for him, her voice raising like it was a question.

Well, yes.

That was what he was supposed to say though. He was supposed to ask. Now he was officially pathetic enough that his date had to ask herself to be his date.

"Please," he muttered, because he already knew he was pathetic. It would've been less pathetic if James just set him up like usual, then there would be no problem.

But he still wanted to go to the dance with Debbie Crawford.

Debbie nodded, she seemed to be excited. She even threw her arms around him, hugging him, and he hugged back. Carlos shot him a thumbs-up.

Carlos was, weirdly so, his good luck charm.

—

His good luck charm was unfortunately quite talkative. And hyperactive, and bad at keeping news to himself. This news was by no means revolutionary, but it was relevant, especially when Logan needed Carlos to shut up.

And he wouldn't.

"Guess what?" Carlos practically exploded, bouncing on Kendall's couch.

They were over there, playing video games as Logan predicted. Though, in the situation, they weren't skipping the dance. They were going.

"What?" Kendall asked, right as his avatar narrowly escaped death via jumping over a biohazard. Which kind of biohazard was too difficult to determine. The graphics weren't exactly realistic.

"Logan has a date."

Kendall's avatar died. So did James's. They both turned to Logan, who tried to focus on staying quiet. He did not need them all to make a big deal out of this.

"What?" his two oldest friends practically spluttered. "Who?"

Carlos nudged him with his shoulder. Logan twisted away. "Tell them, Logan."

He blushed, staring down at his shoes. "It's not a big deal."

"I think that that is a terrible lie, Logie," Kendall responded. "Now, who is it?"

"Nobody. Can I have the platinum controller?"

James held it out to him, but before he could take it, the other boy yanked it back. "You forgot to say the magic word."

"Please."

James made a buzzer sound. "Wrong! I can't believe it, the mega-genius Logan Mitchell gets a question wrong?"

"Then what's the magic word?"

James smirked, glancing over at Kendall, who looked similar.

"You just have to finish a sentence."

He nodded. "Okay."

"Your sentence is: I am going to the sixth grade dance with…"

"No."

James rolled his eyes, jabbing a finger in Logan's side. He did this repeatedly, cocking an eyebrow. Dating him to keep silent.

Logan squirmed, unable to escape the couch. He accepted the dare, biting down on his lip, kicking James's arm away.

James's fingers were so firm, and he pressed really hard, and it hurt his ribs a lot—

"Debbie Crawford!" he yelped. "It's Debbie Crawford, okay?"

James stopped poking him. "Debbie Crawford the blonde nerd, Debbie Crawford?"

"She's not a nerd," Logan muttered. She was just smart. Just not as smart as him, since she hadn't known what deoxynucleic acid was.

"You asked a girl out all by yourself!" James remarked. At first, he seemed proud. But then he took another look at Logan.

His eyes narrowed. "How did you ask her out?"

Logan blushed harder, lowering his head. "I—she asked me. I tried to ask her, but I really just couldn't."

"She asked you?" James exclaimed, smacking a hand to his forehead. "No, buddy, you were supposed to ask her."

"I know. But I tried giving her a compliment, and she didn't understand what I meant, and then after—"

"What compliment?" Kendall interrupted. He started to laugh, his face breaking into a grin. He knew, of course, because Kendall could get Logan to tell him anything.

"Logan, tell me you didn't say her hair looked like DNA coils. Isn't that what you told me her hair looked like?"

"But they do look like that!" he insisted.

James groaned. "Logan!"

"That's what her hair looks like! And she has really nice hair, and Kendall told me you're supposed to compliment people, and you told me to compliment girls, and Debbie is both a person and a girl, so really all I did was do—"

"You know what? Whatever," James said, dragging him out by his wrists. "We need to get you ready for the dance."

Logan pulled away. "I'm ready."

James squinted at him, letting his gaze linger on Logan's hair. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

He was wearing a dress shirt and khaki pants, an outfit choice he had premeditated on, just in case he did actually have to attend the dance.

It appears he did indeed have to attend the dance now.

There was nothing wrong with a dress shirt and khakis. That's what he wore when he was supposed to look presentable for presentations. That's what he wore when he went to the museum. That's what he wore when he went to lectures.

There was nothing wrong with his outfit.

"But you have a date now."

Without another word, James pulled Logan into the bathroom. The hair products were already laid out. The door was locked.

All James tried to do was fix Logan's hair.

He figured it would be simple. Logan had evaded his first attempts to fix his hair, but then was forced to change into jeans as a compromise khakis looked too much like Logan was trying to dress up like a dad. Maybe Logan couldn't understand, but it was not a good thing if he looked like a dad, a nondescript dad at that, at his first school dance.

His outfit was appropriate now, and since Logan hadn't been too upset about it, albeit still mildly mental about the well-being of his khakis, James decided he could continue with getting him ready.

His decision must have been a bad one.

Because the second James had put the gel in his hair, Logan kicked him and whined and complained and writhed around and kicked him.

Logan wasn't strong. But he could hit and he could kick, and when he did that, it hurt.

"Logan, it's just hair gel."

Logan continued to fidget and whine about this hair gel. He tried grabbing James's hands, but James was too fast for that.

"Come on, dude. Relax."

Logan did not want to relax.

"I'm almost done. Just stay still. Twenty seconds."

But Logan was so impossible that James got it done in ten.

Logan jumped up immediately from his position, throwing a towel at James as he pulled on the door handle.

"It's locked," James told him, unlocking it quickly.

Logan nodded, then shoved the towel further into James's hands, and left.

—

He was biting down on his lip. The minute he saw Debbie, he noticed she had curled her hair tighter, and that made her hair look like deoxynucleic acid tendrils but he can't say that. He's already said it once, and she didn't understand. So, he bites down on his lip and trieste look at her face.

Kendall, James, and Carlos have conveniently left him to fend for himself, he realizes, as he has determined, based on previous interactions with Debbie Crawford, that it is simply impossible to look at her face. Logan wishes he wasn't all alone right now. He understands why he is, but he doesn't want to be.

He is on a date, he has a date to the dance, and he, per the standard social code of conduct, should be paying attention to her.

But he wants Kendall to help him calm down, and give him a speech, because that's what Kendall does. Kendall will not, though, since he's off dancing with his date. Like Logan is supposed to be doing.

And Logan would also like James to explain to him how to interact with a girl. But he knows he won't, because Logan had been annoying and uncooperative when James tried to help him get ready. He hadn't meant to, but he had liked his clothes, and he didn't like these jeans James had given him. And Logan hated hair gel. That opinion wasn't going to change.

James had the right to ignore him for the night then, since he has his own gaggle of girls he's supposed to be wooing, and also, Logan didn't deserve help after how terrible he had been.

This did not change the fact that Logan needed help immediately.

He might have muttered a rushed apology to Debbie, he might not have.

Because he had spotted Carlos and his helmet, and if the swirling, flashing lights of the disco ball were any indication, he would lose sight of his friend in a mere matter of seconds if he didn't concentrate and grab him now.

He grabbed his arm, yanking him backwards.

"Hey, Logan!"

"Hi."

"How's it going with Debbie?'

He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that Logan could not understand.

"Not good."

"Not good?"

Logan shook his head. "I—I think that she thinks that I'm—I don't know."

"Did you ask her? I bet she'll tell you. I mean, I tell you all the time."

"She won't tell me that, she's nice."

Carlos narrowed his eyes, eyebrows furrowed together, arms crossed over his chest. "Are you im-ply-ing that I am not nice? I'm really nice, Logan."

Logan clasped his hands together, nodding. "Yes, exactly, which is why I need you to help. Please?"

Carlos readily agreed.

Debbie mostly talked to Carlos in the beginning once they both showed up again. Whenever Debbie even looked at Logan, he would blush and stutter and laugh, making her turn away. So it was good to have Carlos as a back up, always making sure that Debbie was engaged with one of them in a surprisingly interesting conversation.

Carlos was really nice to her when Logan couldn't do much else other than gape at the floor.

Then, Carlos spotted corn dogs at the snack table. He almost bolted away right then, but Logan grabbed him.

But Carlos looked so longingly at the corndogs like he might be eternally heartbroken if they did not find their way down his esophagus and into his stomach within the next minute. So, reluctantly, completely, fully aware of the inevitable social awkwardness that was about to occur with his good luck charm best friend, Logan released Carlos, watching him run off. He turned away before he started inhale the corn dogs, because watching Carlos eat, specifically eat conr dogs, was some type of natural disaster.

This meant that Logan had to look at Debbie.

"I'm sorry for saying it, and I know I already said it, but your hair looks really pretty, and it's just structurally perfect, and you look really pretty, though, you're human, of course you're not structurally perfect."

And he realizes what he's said, and he remembers how James told him that girls sometimes are incredibly insecure about their bodies, and how Logan wasn't supposed to tell girls that they looked too fat or too thin, even though obesity and anorexia were severe health problems.

Debbie's face falls, she's frowning.

James was right, and he was wrong, always as it was when it came to girls.

"I'm sorry," he stammers out quickly. "But, really, it's scientifically proven that no one is structurally perfect. Not entirely."

Anorexia is on his mind now. Debbie does not look anorexic, which is good. She looks healthy.

Debbie's jaw drops open, then she closes her mouth again.

Logan needed to shut up.

"Corn dog, Debbie?" he hears Carlos ask. He hands Debbie a corn dog, as promised. Carlos is back by his side.

"Has Logan told you how beautiful you are yet? He won't shut up about your hair, I think he's obsessed with you. But you really are beautiful. And I'm not a math genius like you or Logan, but I'd say you're acute angle."

Debbie smiles. Her smile is perfectly symmetrical, and her teeth look like the epitome of dental health. Her teeth are shining brightly white at him and Carlos. Logan is frozen, but Carlos smiles back at her, big enough to account for both of them. He continues rambling.

"Logan is downloading his massive brain, it'll probably take him a minute to come up with a new complement for you. Especially since it has to be math or science related. He's not good at regular compliments. I think if he was, he would say that you have pretty green eyes, and your smile is really cute too."

Debbie blushes, and Logan's blushing too, because that's probably exactly what he would have told her if he could speak right now. Not that he has the chance to, since Carlos is talking fast.

"Green is one of Logan's favorite colors, but only specific greens. And look, he's wearing a green shirt now! He was going to wear khakis too, but that made him look like a dad, so James made him change. And put in hair gel. Logan hates hair gel. He would probably hate it if you put gel in your hair, he loves the way your hair looks."

Debbie giggles. It's light and bubbly at first, but then she snorts, covering her mouth with her hand. "He looked like a dad? Like his dad?"

Carlos pauses, considering this.

"No, I actually never met his dad before. I don't think he looked like a dad, but James did, and what James says about clothes, is like the law. My dad's a police officer, and he told me it isn't a real law, but sometimes i think it is. James calls the FBI a lot, maybe he's calling them on us for our bad style? Or my helmet? But my helmet is awesome."

Carlos taps his helmet for emphasis.

"Do you want to come get some punch with me while Logan downloads his brain? I think it's regular red Kool-Aid, but it kinda tastes like chlorine, so I'm not really sure."

Debbie nods, and Carlos takes her by the wrist, leading over to the infamous punch bowl.

Logan runs over, nearly knocking her into the bowl, which would be terribly unfortunate, because her hair and her dress would get all soaked and stained red.. Logan automatically holds an arm behind her back to stabilize her if necessary. He cannot have his date fall into the punch bowl.

"Your eyes are—very pretty. Green is my favorite color."

"I know," she says softly. "Carlos told me."

"And I think your eyes are supernovas. Though, there aren't any green stars. But if there were, your eyes would be like a green star supernova."

Carlos is definitely his good luck charm.

Debbie leans in. She closes her eyes, her green supernovas. Her blonde hair, curled like deoxynucleic acid tendrils, brushes against his face. He knew her hair would be soft.

And she kisses him.

Oh my goodness I should write more Cargan if this is the result. Have a lovely day everyone!