A/N: Time for chapter 2! Thanks to irishoreo, BTRlover17, hahippy, SimplyAnonymous101, fuzzybuzz21, Sum1cooler, XxgawjussemokidxX, abcnaley, Dragon99754, Mazie Lyne, Lewkis, squoctobird, MilitaryGirl101, and Denahi for the reviews, favorites, and alerts. They mean a lot (and I'm not just saying that, they really do).
In other news, I realized that I have a really hard time telling which of the BTR guys is singing at some points during their songs. Prime example: 'Nothing Really Matters'; At the end of the song where they're all singing really high, I can't tell Logan and Kendall apart. James is really close as well but at least sort of distinct, and Carlos is clear. But Logan and Kendall are impossible for my ears to separate. Now I feel sufficiently stupid.
Anyways. Yeah. Chapter 2. Going on now.
Chapter II
"I know you know, I've got your heart pumpin'. I know you know, we know we've got somethin'," Carlos sang happily along with Cymphonique, his earbuds blaring the music into his ears as he twirled his way down the sidewalk. The people walking by would occasionally look at him weirdly, but most knew him as the Dancing Boy for how he transported himself. He never took the bus, never carpooled, never just walked. The Latino always danced his way down the street and into the lecture hall in the morning, hearing his friends laugh as he spun his way down the aisle and into his seat.
The tan boy kept his headphones in his ears, beginning to pull things from his backpack when the left earphone popped out with a quick tug from the person in the seat next to him.
"Hey there, Mr. Cheerful," he heard the bubbly voice say to him, and he turned his head to look at the pretty curly-haired brunette sitting next to him. She always used that nickname, since she had never seen Carlos in a bad mood. He had never yelled, cried, or been anything but the happiest person around her.
"Oh, hi Camille," he beamed back at her. He liked Camille, as a friend. The only reason that he and Camille were friends in the first place was due to his ineptitude in math and her originally horrible Spanish skills, the two having tutored each other during freshman year. "You look happy, something good happen this morning?"
She blushed and giggled at the question, the tan boy giving her a quizzical look. "I saw that that one amazing (and adorable) gymnast Logan Mitchell is performing again today for the Olympics." Carlos immediately felt his face heat up at the name, quickly starting to become aroused as his fantasy from that morning flooded into his head. He willed himself to be calm, regaining his composure and trying to formulate a response. The brunette girl just laughed at his red face and obvious discomfort. "Carlos, it's very, very obvious now that you like him. In fact you're trying so hard to hide it that you're just making it more obvious."
Carlos' blush intensified with that. She was right of course, she knew him almost as well as James even though he had only known Camille for about two years while he and James had known each other since preschool. He was an open book to her.
"Yeah, and what's it to you?" he blurted out loudly, pulling the attention of the small groups of their classmates nearby. His blush was painfully obvious, but he just waved at the others before turning back to Camille, who was smirking widely. "Stop embarrassing me like that," he whispered with a twang of annoyance, a frown etched across his features.
"You do it to yourself, Mr. Cheerful," she replied with a wink, the Latino giving her an irritated glare. Hearing someone clearing their throat from the front of the class, the two turned forward in their chairs to see their professor.
"Buenos días a todos," the short woman spoke clearly and loudly to all of them, a bright smile on her face. Her bright yellow dress contrasted sharply with her black heels and dark skin, but it still looked pretty on her in Carlos' opinion.
"Buenos días Señora Wainwright!" Carlos waved to her enthusiastically and her smile quickly turned down. The Latino knew that he wasn't exactly her favorite student. Maybe it had something to do with his constant doodling and talking during her class. Or maybe it was the fact that on the first day of her class he brought a super soaker into class and drenched the three Jennifers, which got him into pretty serious trouble. Or maybe it was just the fact that he didn't seem motivated for her class. In reality he didn't participate because it was better for the others to practice than to make him speak out with all of the answers. The course was Spanish, and he was only taking it for the credits, already being completely fluent in Spanish due to his family. But he wanted to at least get her to like him.
"Buenos días, tonto," she dismissed his greeting sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. The Latino's grin faded as he looked down at his notebook in front of him, a bit disheartened by her coldness, pulling out a pencil to begin a new doodle.
The lecture went by quickly, Carlos saying goodbye to Camille about half an hour afterwards, heading back in the direction of his apartment, turning his music back up to full volume and putting the headphones back into his ears. He danced his way down the street for about five minutes, stopping only when he saw something that caught his eye in the window of an electronics store. The Olympics were on still. And the gymnastics part was on. The Latino quickly snapped his head down to see his watch.
"Dammit! It's already 11:30?" He exclaimed at the device, pushing buttons on the sides the check the timer he had set that morning to remind him of when to leave for home. It wasn't on. He picked up the pace, running down the sidewalk with his bag hitting painfully against his back, the spine of his Spanish textbook digging into his own spine.
The apartment door swung open at 11:40 and hit the wall with a loud bang, startling the brunette who was lying on the couch reading his fashion magazine. James looked over his shoulder at the Latino, perplexed.
"What's the rush?"
"Logan is going on for the Vault in like 3 minutes! Where's the remote?" Carlos shouted, frantically throwing down his backpack before searching the immediate vicinity of the television for the controller before starting to look underneath the apartment's armchair and sofa. James sighed, watching him search desperately for a minute before holding up the device for Carlos to grab. The tan boy snatched it from his hand with a squeal of glee, pushing the power button and turning the volume up as high as possible. The box flared to life, blasting loud cheers into the room.
On screen once again was the pale brunette talking to the blonde man in a suit. The news station muted the conversation between the two, but James imagined a voice that sounded fitting for the blonde. The spiky-haired boy nodded at his friend and turned away, the camera following him as he walked up to a long strip of carpet-like flooring. He jumped in place a couple of times and stretched out his back before standing completely still, staring the judges in the eyes. One of the judges made a slight nod, and Logan moved his right arm up and back down in recognition.
Watching intently, Carlos scooted closer to the television in preparation. He had never seen the Vault before and was curious as to what was going to happen. The gymnast's lopsided half-smile had disappeared from his face, and he took three deep breaths before taking off jogging down the strip of carpeting. Each foot that hit the ground quickly sprung right back out as the boy's arms swung in and out from his body, a sudden loud smack ringing out when he hit the springboard at the end of the strip. The Latino was mesmerized as the pale brunette rocketed up into the air, performing a ridiculously complicated series of maneuvers while floating through the space before landing perfectly on two feet.
The arena (and Carlos) erupted into applause and cheering, people all over standing and screaming loudly in mixes of happiness and anger as everyone realized that the pale boy had just taken first place by a landslide. His movements had been impeccable and his landing was spot on, and Logan and his blonde friend were obviously overjoyed to see the reaction from the audience, a large hand clapping onto the gymnast's back and the shorter boy pulling his friend into a crushing hug, his massive biceps flexing to full size. Carlos immediately felt himself getting hard from just looking at the girth of the muscles.
"You like that view, don't you Carlos?" The Latino had honestly forgotten that James was in the room. His face flushed, and the tall brunette just laughed, dodging the pillow that came flying toward him.
"Kendall, can we please get out of here, I'm so fucking tired."
"Hey, watch your language, there are children nearby. And just a few more minutes man, just wait for the crowd to thin out," the blonde replied to his friend with a slight smirk, watching the boy's huge biceps flex again as his arms crossed over his chest and he huffed in disappointment. Logan was seriously impatient after his event, he liked to get back to his hotel room and sleep on the nice soft bed while his piles of congratulation presents were taken away to be donated.
Kendall admired Logan for that; he didn't want any of the fame or fortune of being an Olympic gold medalist, he just wanted to be the normal twenty year old with an amazing talent that made him unique, just like all the rest of the people in the world.
Or at least, that's how Logan viewed it. He thought everyone else was blessed with at least one amazing talent, something that made them awesome. Kendall had a thing for hockey, but it wasn't like he was the best player in the world because of how much he enjoyed playing. Logan didn't just slaughter his competition in gymnastics (the blonde had a suspicion that Logan was secretly a robot, but he had never heard of any robots that grow up), he also loved being good at it. But the brunette just wished that he could be amazing and normal at the same time.
The pale boy sighed, signing what was probably the trillionth autograph for his billionth "biggest fan", dropping the façade of a fake smile as soon as the sixteen year old girl turned back to her friends and squealed with delight before trotting off somewhere, speaking frantically at the other girls in high-pitched French. People should just assume that he would be tired after an event, not come to find him so that he could sign a piece of paper for them or let them pose for a photo with him. Kendall had somehow convinced him to change into a suit; it must have been the delirium gained from winning his third Olympic gold that made him do it. The tie was freaking choking him, the shirt was too tight around his arms, and the dress shoes were just plain uncomfortable.
After what felt like hours, they were finally in the taxi headed back to the glamorous hotel that they were calling home currently. The brunette boy just looked out the window wistfully, sighing as he remembered how much he missed his small house by the ocean in California.
"We can't go back to LA yet, Logie, you still have three more events left." The statement just caused the brunette to groan loudly.
"Kendall, I'm so fucking tired of this place. I want to go back to my actual home, or even Wisconsin, where I can say hi to my friends or doggy any time that I want. And where I don't have to deal with billions of people watching me. And where people knew me as Logie, the sweet young gay man from down the street with a knack for gymnastics and love of hair gel, instead of Logan Mitchell, the world's best gymnast from America that every other country is angry at for being so good or wants a fucking clone of."
As his pale friend ranted about his love of his home back in Los Angeles and his hate of Europe and the Olympics and his ridiculous fans and everything else, Kendall checked his phone for any new texts or emails. There were a ton of emails from friends telling them to send Logan their congratulations; he deleted those right away, knowing that Logan would explode if he heard any more fan comments at that time. He sifted through junk mail and social networking updates, simply biding his time so that they could make it back to their hotel rooms and Logan could complain to the pillow instead of his ears. He eventually ran out of emails to read or trash, moving his eyes to the now quiet gymnast. The blonde's eyes raked up and down the boy's small frame.
Kendall had a small crush on his friend, and he couldn't help but admire the boy's body. The feelings weren't too deep, but he enjoyed them nonetheless. Every single inch of the brunette's skin was bursting with muscle, his arms being the defining feature of his body. The tight dress shirt looked like it was going to rip every time that Logan's arms moved to cross his body, the fabric straining to stay intact. Kendall was one of the few privileged enough to have seen Logan without a shirt on, seeing as how the boy would never been seen in public without one, so he knew that the rest of the boy's body was pretty much as powerful as his guns.
"Need something Kendall?" The blonde blushed deeply and turned his head away, Logan just bringing up a lopsided smile before staring back out the window.
The taxi slowly pulled to a stop, the driver about to jump out and stride over to open Logan's door for him. The pale boy stopped him, a wide frown crossing his face. "I'm not a hundred years old, conceited, or crippled. I can open my own door," he said flatly, the taxi driver quickly backing away. The excessive fatigue was preventing him from getting too angry, but he just wished that he didn't get any special treatment or anything. He could be a normal person too.
Logan just wanted his bed. Somehow he got up to his hotel room 3K, opening the door, ignoring the stack of presents that was already waiting, quickly stripping his shirt and pants before collapsing onto his bed and immediately falling asleep. His taller friend sighed, having followed him into the room to have a quick conversation that apparently wasn't going to happen now. Walking over to the bed, Kendall ruffled Logan's still sweat matted hair, fighting the urge to lean down and wrap his arms around the boy for a hug and quietly exited, shutting the door silently behind him.
A/N: Ta-da! Yay for Logan and Kendall developments! Anyways, I'm having fun writing this one so far. Did you catch what I did there with Logan's hotel room number? Ah well, please review, and I'll catch ya on the flip side!