Hey y'all! New chapter, and I love this request so much, I'm shocked I didn't write this already. Dedicated to RocqueNRoll (Guest) for the request. It's the guys being overbearing/overprotective with Logan, it's honestly an amazing request.

Happy reading! Enjoy!

He's not about to say he minds it, because he doesn't. Not all the time. But, really, it's all the time.

It's like a machine, an automatic response.

Except, with a machine, there's an off-switch or an override button.

James, Carlos, and Kendall have neither.

Logan wants to go down to the lobby. Immediately, James stands up and goes with him.

"You don't have to, James, really, it's fine."

James was in the middle of a video game. He paused it, tossing the controller to the side. "I know it's fine. But I'm bored, and I don't like being bored."

"You said the word bored twice. In one sentence."

"You bet I did."

There was no more time for argument or discussion, not that Logan would argue. It was hardly ever fruitful to engage in an argument with James over going down to the lobby together. That was James's automatic machine response. Disrupting that, by creating a disagreement, would only increase the machine's chances of going rogue and possibly killing him.

Logan did not think it was worth getting killed over. He did not want James to go rogue on him, so he kept his mouth shut as the elevator doors closed.

He would've kept his eyes closed too, as he walked next to James, but that would hinder his ability to walk. And then James would sling an arm over his shoulders, which made the whole walk-through-the-lobby process worse, because now people had a reason to stare.

He was blushing. He was blushing, and all James did was wrap an arm around his shoulders. He did that a lot, Kendall did that a lot too, he should be used to it, and he kinda is. But he obviously isn't completely used to it, because he's blushing.

It's embarrassing to be blushing.

—

Or, Logan is in the park, flanked by Carlos.

Why does everyone think he's about to get killed or abducted or beat to death if he goes anywhere alone? The park is a bright, clear, public, open space. If he was to get murdered, there would be more than enough witnesses.

Carlos was distracting. He drew attention to them unknowingly, and that was the biggest issue. Logan had enough people staring at him with James. He did not need people staring at him with Carlos too.

Carlos would run ahead sometimes, and Logan wouldn't bother catching up. Then, Carlos would slow down until Logan did catch up. He would never walk behind Logan, and he would never let Logan walk in front of him.

"Carlos, we're walking to the same place."

"I know."

"I know where I'm going, why is it such a big deal if I'm ahead of you?"

Carlos shrugged easily, pressing his lips firmly together. He was bad at keeping secrets. Before he even spilled a word of it, Logan could infer that Kendall had put James and Carlos up to this. This insane level of mollycoddling was so apparent yet subtle, so Logan couldn't be mad about it.

He wasn't mad at Carlos, but it was just embarrassing when he forgot not to take a step forward, in front of Carlos. Carlos's arm would shoot out, reprimanding him, his bony limbs striking him in the chest. Sometimes it hurts.

That was embarrassing.

—

Or, perhaps the most embarrassing, not that the other two machine automatic response outcomes weren't, but this one was by far the worst.

Kendall.

Logan often got tasked with grocery shopping, even though he despised the grocery store. So, Kendall always, without fail, accompanied him on his trips.

Perhaps this machine automatic response made the most sense. It was well-intentioned, just like James and Carlos's efforts. But, an action making sense, being well-intended, did not make it less embarrassing.

Kendall would not leave his side, for one thing. He kept Logan on the left of him, always glancing back at him every few seconds, like he would break or burst. These are valid concerns, or they would've been, had they been fourteen. But they were seventeen years old. Logan did not have the same problems he did at twelve, thirteen, fourteen that he did at seventeen.

Well, he did, but he didn't want to admit to himself that he had them. Those problems would never go away.

Actually, his biggest problem might be Kendall. Who would also never go away.

Kendall wouldn't even let him push the cart. Kendall wouldn't allow him to pick items off the shelf.

Logan's singularly allocated job was to read items off the list.

"Kendall, can't I just bag the items?"

Kendall gestures to their cashier, an elderly woman with a bob cut and tired eyes. "Logan, are you trying to put this woman out of a job? She's an expert, I'm an expert. You are not."

Bagging groceries was a mundane task. It didn't look hard, because it wasn't. But he had learned not to argue with Kendall, so he changed the subject.

"What can I do, then?"

"You can stand there patiently and wait until I pay for the groceries."

Logan made the mistake of pushing the cart out to the parking lot. Kendall quickly intercepts him. Logan groans. Kendall does not notice, grabbing tightly on to the handlebar.

"I think you are forgetting that my official job title back in Minnesota was Sherwood Grocery Cashier Cart Pusher."

"Kendall, it's two feet."

It's two feet in a busy LA parking lot. LA drivers are reckless. He knows that, he should be grateful he's not going to be hit by a car now, with Kendall shielding them from the traffic with the cart.

"Lucky for you, I almost won Employee of the Month for my skill of pushing carts at a distance of two feet."

"Almost."

"Yeah, almost. I only lost because you pushed a cart into a car, and the boss thought it was me. That was the boss's car, by the way."

"Don't you not like him?"

Kendall nods. "Yeah. So, thank you for hitting his car."

Kendall pushes the cart into the rack. It glides across the asphalt at top speed. It's about to knock into the other carts inside the rack, and fit itself perfectly between them.

But then, one of these crazy LA drivers honks. Logan flinches. Kendall puts a hand on his shoulder.

The crazy LA driver is illegally speeding. The car and the shopping cart collide. The cart spins out of control, hurtling back towards them. The car drives on, like it doesn't have a humongous dent on the driver's side, and like it didn't just hit a shopping cart. That is rapidly spinning.

Towards them.

Kendall catches it, glancing around for any more insane drivers, before pushing it a second time.

It slides easily into the rack.

Logan tries to relax and not move as the cart rattles against the others.

He's so good at not moving that Kendall has to drag him back to the car.

He feels like he's fourteen again, even though he isn't.

—

He does not want to feel like he's fourteen again. It's impossible, because now he's set himself up for that mindset, and he's acting like he's fourteen. He's upset with himself, and angry at himself, and angry at them, because it's their fault.

So, if he wants to be petty, which he does, because he's acting like he's fourteen, he can safely blame snapping at Kendall, James and Carlos on them and not on him. The slightly more rational seventeen year old part of his brain knows that this is not true, he snapped at them and it is his fault, but really, he's not going to be able to be rational right now.

"Logan, is something going on?" Kendall asks, eyeing him carefully.

He looks away, standing up from the couch, retrieving his computer. The blue light irritates his eyes, but that doesn't matter.

"No," he says, because when he was fourteen, he was a bad liar, but knew how to lie just enough so that his problems would not be brought to anyone's attention.

"I don't think I believe him," Kendall continues, turning to James. "James, do you believe him?"

James shakes his head.

"Carlos?"

Carlos shakes his head, too.

Logan stares more intently at the screen, clicking away. "Everything is fine."

It will be, if this clicking and typing doesn't go to waste.

"Logan," Kendall repeats, and maybe he's going to give a speech? He will, because that's what Kendall does. Gives speeches. "We're not trying to be—what did you call us—overbearing mollycoddlers."

That is what he called them, because that's what they were.

James chimes in, interrupting the speech. "We don't know what those are."

"But we're not that!" Carlos insists. "We're just helping you."

"It doesn't feel like help," he muttered, tensing. He was this close.

"Well, it is help," Kendall reassures him. "Like, when you and Carlos are studying, what are you doing? Helping him. This is the same thing. You just don't need help with math."

What he needs help with right now is getting the three overbearing mollycoddlers out of the room, so he can surprise them, because it worked, and he has the tickets.

He's not mad, not anymore, just slightly irritated that they are still talking. He doesn't know about what, it's just useless chatter, and he needs to interrupt them. Now.

"Look," Logan says. He doesn't give speeches like Kendall, he doesn't want to, but this is a short speech. "Thank you for 'helping' me, just, sometimes you all get so—-overproctective—which is stupid, because it's not necessary."

He takes a pause to breathe, and knows that someone is going to interject on the falsity of that statement.

No one does.

"And I appreciate it sometimes, just not all the time."

He pauses again for a breath, expecting a comment he does not receive.

They are all staring at him, waiting.

Logan doesn't want to talk anymore about this. He extends his arms out, showing them his computer screen.

"I got tickets for us to see the—"

Logan's failed speech is forgotten. The whole day has been forgotten, because everyone is excited, already predicting who's going to win.

He has his own bets on the Los Angeles Kings, but he keeps quiet, just enjoying his friends.

They're insane, and crazy, and wild, and sometimes, all the time, overbearing mollycoddlers.

But there is no way that he could ever ask for better friends to have.