Chapter 8! After what three months? (Update: on Thanksgiving) Regardless it's here!

And also yesterday (not yesterday anymore) was . 's birthday. And see I was going to publish it then for her gift but that did not happen. Regardless she's wonderful and literally the best person ever so happy birthday to her, I love her very much.

And today! Actually today! It's our friendship anniversary and we love each other so this is her gift.

So please go read and review everything she's ever written including her Glee fanfictions please!

Also I can't take credit for how funny this is. 99 percent of how funny this is is due to . . I'm paying her like ten percent in royalty fees.

And also happy thanksgiving (a few days ago) to the other Americans reading—did you see Big Time Rush in the parade?

THEY WERE CUT OFF!

To the chapter!

Logan is convinced that while the dinner with John Roberts can't get any better, it also can't get any worse.

Though, it hasn't technically started yet. So this is wishful thinking.

They've all sat down, and Logan was quick enough to acquire a seat before Christopher could configure it so Logan ended up sitting next to John Roberts.

Logan also made sure to count the chairs.

Nine. Six for the Roberts family, and three extra for significant others. Himself, Jack's girlfriend Liz, and Michael's girlfriend, Martha.

There are nine chairs for nine people. And these nine people are all sitting.

Michael and Martha are making quiet conversation. Michael keeps glancing over at him. Martha does sometimes too, but as least she smiles back.

Jack and Liz are talking too, with John Roberts and Barbara. John Roberts seems to like Liz.

Logan tries not to dwell on that.

He observes the rest of the table.

Christopher is sulking to himself in the corner. Probably because Logan actually gets a chair this time.

And Camille is looking at him. She smiles.

And he can relax.

"—should lead grace."

Not anymore.

That's not Camille, that's someone else.

Oh, it's Christopher. Setting Logan up for failure, for embarrassment, again.

And Camille tells Christopher to shut up, and that he should do it.

Then it's Jack that tells Christopher that if he doesn't do it, he's just sulking, which makes him look like a pathetic, petulant child.

Of course, this is all said quietly enough so that John Roberts and Barbara don't here.

It is Christopher's loud, drawn out sigh that they do hear.

"Fine," Christopher says. "I'll do it."

John Roberts mutters something under his breath.

Barbara's response is, "That's wonderful, honey."

And they hold hands. Logan is lucky; he's holding Camille's hand in his right, and in his left he's holding Martha's.

He doesn't know Martha well, but well enough to assume that she's much, much better than John Roberts.

Christopher says the grace prayer quickly and quietly. Barbara praises him for it, Jack tells him he did a shitty job. And Liz, Jack's girlfriend, tells him to be nice.

"But it's so easy to be mean, Elizabeth. And it's fun."

"That's not very Catholic of you, John David."

And Jack looks at her with an expression, likely annoyance. John David isn't a great first name.

Though, Hortense isn't much better.

"Yeah," Liz laughs. "That's what I thought."

Logan makes the tentative decision that he likes Liz.

In fact, he can come to the conclusion that he likes everyone at the table rather quickly. With the exception of two people, who would happen to be Christopher and John Roberts.

It happens to all be Liz's fault, but he's not holding it against her, she doesn't know him.

She only wanted to get to know him.

Logan wasn't aware that such a few simple sentences could end up causing so much destruction.

"You're Logan, right? I'm Liz. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you," he replies, because that's true. It is nice to meet her, she seems nice.

"How long have you and Camille been dating now?"

He can't help but smile at Camille as he answers that one. "Two years."

And then Liz turns to Jack. "You didn't tell me they'd been dating for two years!"

"What do you expect, Liz? I'm bad at math, I forgot."

Liz rolls her eyes at him, turning back to Logan.

"Aren't you from Big Time Rush?"

He nods.

"My sisters listen to you guys all the time."

He nods again.

"Aren't you the one that wants to be a doctor?"

For the third time, he nods.

"What kind?"

"Neuroscience, hopefully. But general practice would be great too."

He hears Christopher mocking him, and he doesn't want to think about that.

Liz smiles at him for a second.

That's good, she's nice.

And she looks back at Jack. Sighing.

"Jack, Camille is so lucky! She has this adorable pop star doctor for a boyfriend."

He's not going to blush at that but of course he will.

"Are you implying," Jack asks, "that you aren't lucky and I'm not adorable?"

"I'm simply stating a standard."

"I'm going to be a lawyer!"

"I love you."

Jack sighs. "I love you too."

See, and this isn't the bad part of the conversation. This isn't the destruction.

"Camille," John Roberts says.

And this is where the destruction begins.

"Yes, Dad?"

Logan reaches for Camille's hand. She holds it.

She looks at her father, and drops it.

"You could always marry a lawyer."

Right in front of him. This conversation is happening right in front of him.

"Dad."

Jack, not Camille, interjects. Camille is looking at her father, not saying anything.

"You're preparing for law school yourself, Jack. You're already bright, doing exceptionally well in your courses—once you land a job at the firm, Liz will have a provider."

"The firm? Who said I can't work somewhere else?"

Logan watches the argument.

"You'll be most successful. We're one of the most well established, highly qualified firms in the state."

"Yeah, Dad. I know."

"If you know, you don't need to argue about it. At least you're set up with a future."

Barbara opens her mouth to speak but doesn't.

Camille grabs Logan's hand again.

"All I want, Camille, is for you to have a future. A stable income, a good provider, a capable husband."

Camille squeezes his hand.

He's surely capable. He's not incapable. He's capable.

Yes, he is.

He's never not been capable.

He is capable.

"Babe," Camille whispers.

And Logan nods.

"I love you," she tells him.

"I love you too."

This is not going to be a disaster.

It just won't be.

Except, he's always wrong.

"Have you even applied to medical school, Logan?" John asks him. "Are you sure they'd even accept you?"

Logan finds the nerve to nod.

Camille saves him: "Of course they'd accept him. Acceptance letters come August first."

Logan nods again.

John only mutters, "Don't hold your breath."

And he resumes eating.

Logan forces a forkful of food into his mouth. Several times. At least he doesn't have to talk.

And then, finally, he can stop, because it's time to eat the creation he attempted with Camille.

It looks like a pie.

Will it taste like one? Likely not.

He watches as everyone begins to eat the pie. He forces himself to do the same. And he is—indifferent. Because it's not Barbara's pie. That being said, it doesn't take raw or burnt. But it's just not as good as Barbara's pie.

Camille knows this, too. But it's not that bad.

It's not good enough that he actually wants to continue eating it, but he will.

And John coughs.

"Barbara, what did you do with this pie?"

Barbara's quiet reply is, "Nothing, John. Logan and Camille made it."

"Her—guest—-touched this?"

No, not really, because he doesn't remember making it at all.

Barbara only nods. "Yes, dear. It's good."

John does not touch his slice of pie after that. Christopher doesn't either.

"I'm not catching what he has."

Logan doesn't finish either. Camille misinterprets this slightly but finishes his pie for him.

He doesn't think he can physically sit at this dinner table any longer.

So it is Barbara, easily the kindest woman he has ever met, who suggests for 'you kids' to watch a movie.

Jack's only comment is that he and Liz are not kids.

Liz only looks at him. "Are you sure babe?"

And with a sharp 'yes!' Jack leads the way to the living room.

The seating arrangement is as follows: Jack and Liz, cuddling on the couch; himself and Camille, squeezed tightly into a loveseat, not like he cares; Michael and Martha, in the corner together, not touching; and finally Christopher, sitting alone, in front of Jack's feet.

Of course, Logan isn't paying attention to anything other than Camille. And the way they're holding each other. And her lips touching his lips, and kissing, and quick breaths.

That is, until he is hit in the back of the head with popcorn kernels.

The culprit would be Jack.

"Keep your tongues in your respective mouths please!" is what he yells at them.

Camille's response is of course the only appropriate response in a situation like this, apparently. To throw popcorn back at her brother, and yell "Keep it in your pants please!"

Best girlfriend ever.

Jack shuts up after that.

Logan resumes kissing Camille.

Unfortunately, Jack's silence prompts Christopher to speak. And, judging from the recent trends of the night, whatever Christopher says is usually nothing for Logan to look forward to.

Christopher moves away from his previous position at Jack's feet. He scowls.

"You don't need to flaunt it in my face, Jack."

Jack laughs, whispering, even though everyone can hear him.

"What? My boner or my girlfriend? Because I'm pretty sure biology says the answer is no."

Logan would have to agree with the biology remark. That was actually sort of funny.

Christopher, however, does not think so.

"Your girlfriend!" he shouts, moving further away from Jack.

Jack only continues to mock him, laughing. It's clearly an acceptable type of teasing to everyone but the victim.

"Oh look who's so sad and single? Poor little baby Christopher."

To which Christopher begins muttering things under his breath. The only thing Logan happens to catch is, "I'm not technically single."

This doesn't matter much to Logan specifically, but Camille pulls away from him. The elder Roberts siblings are silent for a moment as they stare at their youngest brother.

It is Camille and Jack that shout, "You have a girlfriend?"

This is shouted at an unreasonable volume.

And it only causes more yelling, especially considering Christopher's smartass reply.

"No," he replies coolly. "I have a fling."

This response evokes two notable reactions: Camille untangles herself from him (which he is less than pleased about) in order to March across the room and slap her younger brother. And Jack, dutifully continuing on the trend of shouting, decides in this particular instance to shout:

"You are fourteen years old! I believe the term you're looking for is a crush."

Christopher rolls his eyes. "No, it's definitely a fling."

"Then who is it?"

"Allison Palmer."

Out of all the people in the room, out of all the people in the room clearly not watching an undecided movie, Logan does not expect Michael to stutter out a reply.

He does, though.

"Allison Palmer?" he asks. "She's—um. Well, you know—"

"I believe the word you are looking for," Jack interjects, grinning, "is slut."

Liz, much like Camille would if this situation applied to him, slapped her boyfriend.

Well, hit him on the shoulder, but the principle was the same.

"Liz," Jack defends himself, sighing. "Of course Allison Palmer is a slut. Because her sister is Veronica."

This new information warrants a rather shocked gasp from Liz.

"Oh my gosh!"

And while this is entertaining to watch, Logan does not have a clue what is going on.

Naturally, he must pose the question as to who Veronica Palmer is.

"Oh," Jack says, like he forgot Logan knew nothing of this girl. "Just the girl that single handedly managed to screw every male in our graduating class."

Jack should really be more careful with how he says things, because maybe then Liz wouldn't hit him so much.

"Hey! Obviously not me, Elizabeth."

This seems to be an answer she accepts. They kiss.

And precisely at the same moment, Michael rises from his spot on the floor next to Martha.

"I'm going for a walk!" he announces, awkwardly, poor Michael.

"A walk where?" Jack asks him.

"None of your business!"

Michael inhales. And exhales.

"Logan. Would you like to join me on this walk?"

This is an odd, awkward request.

Logan glances at Camille, which was not very helpful because she looks confused too. But she doesn't look like she opposes the idea. So Logan gets up and follows Michael.

They walk a relatively short distance. It's only outside the house, on the side without windows. Actually, if his memory serves him correctly, this would also be the place Logan and Camille had been pressed up against the wall at, the place where Michael and Martha caught them kissing.

The irony.

Logan thinks but does not know for sure that Michael wouldn't make a move on him. Well, he also doesn't have any basis to believe that Michael is gay, other than his musical theatre background, but that is a stereotype and therefore does not count.

Before he overthinks his impulse decision to walk with Michael, Michael begins to talk.

"I don't think I want to kiss Martha like you're kissing Camille."

Okay, that's information.

He continues, "Because you and Camille kiss a lot, and I don't know, you seem to enjoy it."

That is completely factual, and if according to Michael, Logan only seems to enjoy it, then he has been doing a better job of controlling his urges than he thought.

"Okay."

Michael waits anxiously for him to say anything else.

So, naturally, he says the only thing he can think of.

"Michael, are you gay?"

He looks taken aback. Eyes wide. "I don't know, I don't think so."

Michael seems to be more nervous now than before.

"I can't be gay because Martha and I are dating."

Logan nods, letting him go on with this jumbled together, not necessarily true logic.

"So I have to be straight."

Logan nods again, not believing this.

"Because I'm dating a girl."

There have been things such as beards.

And there's a flaw in Michael's illogical logic.

"But you just said you didn't want to kiss her."

Michael's face is now a violent shade of red, and his voice has raised a few pitches.

"I don't!" he protests. "But I am not gay, because that's—"

Michael exhales.

"I'm just not gay, Logan."

He's not very convincing, but Logan will go along with it.

"Okay, Michael."

There is a pause, and Logan will only allow that one pause.

"Are you bi, Michael? Asexual, maybe?"

Michael stares at his shoes. "I don't know what you mean."

So he clarifies. "Do you like boys and girls?"

The hesitation is physically tangible.

"Well, I don't like Martha."

So, Logan has to continue to pursue what seems to be endless questioning.

"Do you not feel sexual attraction?"

This question and its implications makes Michael's head snap up quickly. He's realized the speed of his actions, and has remembered to become reserved and unsure.

"No! I—feel that."

"Is there a specific person?"

Logan receives a head shake in response, unaccompanied by a verbal answer.

"Are you sure? If you're uncomfortable, you could just describe them—"

"No!" Michael exclaims. "No! Because you—you know them!"

Oh. It's Kendall.

"I know he has a girlfriend," Michael whispers.

And Logan says, "Well, yes. But it's okay. She's a bitch."

"Please don't tell Kendall."

"I won't."

Michael nods.

"But," Logan continues, "maybe you should let Martha know how you feel."

"I will. Just not tonight."

"Maybe you could tell Camille? Or your brothers?"

"No! No way."

"But Camille might ask—"

"I don't care! Do not tell her."

The least he can do is respect Michael's wishes.

So that's what he promises.

"Fine. I won't tell her until you're ready."

And with that agreement, they walk back inside, into a living room full of conflicting people with varying terrible tastes in movies, Logan can just tell.

Because the best movie ever created is Apollo 13, and he knows that. The fact that everyone else does not know that shows their movie taste inferiority.

He resumes his position in the chair with Camille, kissing her.

He takes a glance at Michael.

They have an agreement.

It is not an agreement he intends to break.

Camille kisses him back.

He's not a good liar or secret keeper.

He'll figure it out.