Hey y'all. Brain is too tired for angst, so we're toning it down with a new oneshot! This is dedicated to LosForLife (Guest) who requested this several weeks ago, sorry I hadn't gotten to it! Now it's here.

Ugh, sorry it's dialogue heavy, my brain was only half-working today.

Can't believe it, we're almost at 30 chapters!

Also PSA: what's that fanfic on here where the guys read like Little Hollow or whatever? I've been searching unsuccessfully.

Anyway.

Happy reading! Enjoy!

"Let's make a bet!" Carlos had exclaimed.

At midnight, right as they were walking back to the apartment.

Logan rolled his eyes. "What kind of bet would we possibly be able to make at midnight, Carlos?"

"Not who can stay up the latest," Kendall chimed in from behind the two of them. "We already know it's Logan."

"Um, it is not. It's me," Carlos insisted.

"It's Logan," James agreed.

Carlos huffed, crossing his arms in disbelief.

"You're usually asleep by one," James reasoned. "He's not. What time do you go to bed, Logan?"

Logan offered up a helpless shrug. It varied, depending on the night. Depending on what exactly he was researching, and how proactive (read: annoying) Kendall was by taking his computer and hiding it in some unknown location until morning. Whatever time it was, it wasn't much. At least, he knew it should be more.

"Four," Kendall replied confidently.

"In the morning?" Carlos asked, incredulously, eyes wide.

"Carlos, nobody goes to sleep at four in the afternoon," James said.

"If you're old!" Carlos argued. "My grandpa ate dinner at three and went to bed at four."

"Logan is not your grandpa," Kendall added.

Carlos rolled his eyes. "I know that, Kendall."

"Then why—"

"Shut up, Kendall," Logan hissed. "It's midnight, people are trying to sleep."

"You're not."

"Because I'm—"

Immediately, Carlos knew what the bet should be.

"I know!" he cried out, a gleeful smile overtaking his face. His eyes lit up as his mind toyed with the idea, and how easy it would be for him to win.

Unless, of course, the plan double-backfired on him, as his plans usually did.

"Logan and I will play the quiet game! Starting now."

Logan scoffed. "Carlos, you being quiet is about as likely as—"

"BRRRRRRR!" Carlos screamed, imitating a buzzer, which was extremely counterproductive. Not that he cared. "You lost! You lost and I won! Do my homework for a week."

"What?" Logan squeaked. "You didn't—that's not fair, you didn't even establish terms for the bet, so it does not count."

Carlos smacked his helmet. "It counts!"

"It does not."

"Yes, it does!"

"Does not."

"Does too."

"Does not."

"Does too."

Kendall groaned. Another stupid argument between the two of them.

Which, was to be expected, since all four of them often found themselves arguing over the stupidest, pettiest things. But Carlos and Logan, those arguments were the worst. They never backed down, and usually that meant they resorted to unconventional methods, like hitting each other, or the infamous did not, did too.

Today was that day.

James was laughing under his breath. Kendall was nine thousand percent certain that the only reason James thought this was funny was because he was never dragged into it.

Kendall, on the other hand—

"Kendall!" Logan and Carlos exclaimed simultaneously.

—always had to fix the problem.

"Do you want my honest opinion?"

Both nodded furiously.

"Well, honestly, I'd say that you are both being idiots."

Both glared at him with absolute pure, bitter fury. He would go so far as to describe the glares he was receiving as murderous.

Kendall's eyes widened. Think fast, faster than the two furious idiots penetrating him with vengeful stares.

He grabbed Logan first, keeping him at his side. "Now you—"

He used his other arm to fling Carlos in James's direction, who yelped in surprise upon impact. "And you—"

He nodded at James, who scowled. "Both of you, don't talk."

"But we have to make a bet," Carlos protested.

"No, we do not," Logan shot back.

Kendall sighed. They were just so—frustrating sometimes.

"We do too."

"We do not."

Kendall was this close to throwing both of them into a nearby vending machine. They cou;d eat each other for all he cared. It would be a nice break. But he wasn't going to throw them in a vending machine. He intervened.

"You are not starting this again," he said, shooting his own glares to shut them up.

For Logan, it worked instantly. He remained dutifully quiet.

For Carlos, it only worked because Logan wasn't talking to add fuel to the fire.

Either way, it was quiet.

Until it wasn't.

"I think you should bet on who wins," James loud-whsipered to Carlos, clapping hi on the back.

He smirked at Kendall as he slipped inside.

No, it wasn't a smirk.

It was a grin.

A devilish grin, with a purpose.

—

"Morning," he had said automatically to Logan as Logan's stupid alarm woke them both up.

It was the alarm alarm, a blaring buzzer.

Just as automatically, Logan had replied: "Morning."

Kendall heard the buzzer from down the hall, in James and Carlos's room, before he had turned over to shut off Logan's buzzer alarm.

He sank back down under the covers, throwing a pillow over his head.

The door was kicked open.

In walks Carlos. Kendall has to squint. It's not a walk—it's a strut, it's a sashay.

Carlos leans down near Logan's bed, his voice quiet.

"You are doing my homework for a whole week."

Logan grumbled, no doubt about to have some one-sided discussion about the appropriate manner in which to establish betting terms, but Carlos bounced back out into the kitchen before he had the chance.

"Sorry, man."

Logan grumbled again.

It was sure to be a week.

—-

Monday night: a math worksheet, a chem lab report, and the introductory paragraph for a handwritten English essay.

Double the quantity, and that was the sole reason Logan was sprawled on top of the kitchen table at four in the morning.

All his pencils had scattered to the floor a while ago.

'

He was dead asleep, but all the work was done.

These betting terms were not fair.

—

Tuesday night: a Government paper, two math worksheets, the minimum three body paragraphs for the English essay.

The Government paper was finished first, while he was wide awake.

The math work was simple enough, he could do it half-asleep, and he did.

The English paper—-that had fallen to the floor hours ago.

—

Wednesday night: a math test review packet, the concluding paragraph for the English essay.

Math was his strong suit—-that was a non issue.

English. Now, English was already enough of a challenge for him when he had one paper to do. Two papers? Two handwritten papers? Forget it. It was impossible, and he knew it.

He had to get it done.

Except, he was going to fall asleep. The essays were due tomorrow, and he most definitely was going to fall asleep at the table.

He groaned, his head in his hands. How was he supposed to stay awake? How was he even functioning? He knew he hadn't eaten since yesterday, he's not sure how that became the situation, but that is what became of it. There is no way he should be having successful cognitive function right now.

It's not scientifically possible.

He reaches under the table for the fourth pencil he has dropped that evening. The other six he had with him had been broken, out of frustration, most likely.

Unfortunately, as he straightens back up, he hits his head.

Now, he had a headache and an empty stomach to deal with. Along with the essays.

The English language was quite possibly the bane of his existence.

"Logan?" someone asks behind him.

He's too tired to distinguish the voice—he just prays it isn't Kendall, then he'll shut the whole operation down, which is absolutely not allowed.

"What?" he murmurs, shoving away broken pencils. They clatter to the ground.

He clamps his hands over his ears. He cannot have an undesirable sensory reaction right now. He has to get this done.

"Are you okay? It's—really early, or late, I don't know, and you look super tired."

"I can deal with it."

Carlos pauses. "You're falling asleep."

"I'm not."

"I can just do my homework, you don't have to do it tomorrow, or Friday."

That did not make sense. Why had Carlos been so insistent on a bet if he was going to back out on it now?

"A bet is a bet," he says, shrugging. It takes more effort than it is worth.

"But, you look really super tired."

"A bet is a bet," he repeats, stifling a yawn.

"You just yawned."

"I don't care!"

"Logan, I don't want to make you upset—"

"I am not upset!"

"Or angry, but—"

"I am not angry, Carlos! Go away. I need to finish."

"You don't."

"A bet is a bet!"

With that shrill reply, Carlos drops the subject, shrinking back to his bedroom.

Two doors open.

Logan kicks his chair leg. Now, there's about to be a huge issue, when there was no need for it.

"What is going on?" Kendall asks.

James yawns, coming up beside him. "It's—like, four in the morning."

Kendall sees it first. His eyes practically pop out of his head. "Logan, don't tell me you've been up this whole time doing Carlos's homework."

Logan pressed his lips tightly together, averting his gaze.

"You went to bed!"

He turned back to his workload, grabbing another broken pencil. He jammed it into the paper, throwing it to the floor. "Yeah. I'll be done in a few minutes."

"This is insane," James agreed. "I need sleep."

"Then go to sleep," Logan retorted, already tuning them out. "Nobody told you to come out here."

"Um," James laughed. "Who was it who screamed at the top of their lungs just now? Because it sure wasn't me."

Logan shrugged again. "It's Carlos's fault, go yell at him."

"That's not yelling," James insisted. When he did not get a reaction, he turned back towards his room. "I'm going to bed. Kendall? Carlos?"

Kendall was intently staring at Logan. "Yeah, in a few minutes."

Carlos nodded in agreement.

"Idiots," James muttered.

The door to his bedroom shut.

"Logan, you don't need to—"

But it was no use, no matter who was talking.

"Insane," Kendall murmured. "Absolutely insane."

He turned back towards his bedroom, too.

Then it was just Carlos and Logan.

Carlos joined Logan at the table, snatching up a fallen pencil. He began tracing his hand, as he waited for Logan to notice. He didn't.

"Logan, we can do it together. It'll go faster."

Logan started to protest, but Carlos wasn't having it.

"I never said I couldn't help."

"You never made any betting terms."

Carlos smiled easily. "Yeah! So—technically, there's no rules."

"I'm not going to be violating the non existent betting terms?"

"Nope!"

Logan considered this, his chin resting on his palm. "Fine."

Carlos grinned. He pumped his fist in the air, and patted his helmet with approval. "Awesome!"

Things were decidedly less awesome when they had to wake up less than three hours later.

It was a terrible bet, maybe Carlos would admit to that.

But he's lucky to have a friend that would go to those lengths for him.

Good Luck Patrol partner, studying partner, sleeping-on-the-kitchen-table partner, Logan Mitchell.