Matchr Ch. 4: set dark-mode enabled: true
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Intrulogical Week 2021 - Day 4: Darkside Logan Nearly everyone has a dark mode setting that would be enabled given the proper conditions.
Fic rated M, this chapter T - CW: swearing, nudity, sexually suggestive - WC: 6535 ---
𝚂𝚘, 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝙺𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝… 💦 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐?
Logan nearly dropped his phone when he rushed to cover his mouth before a surprised laugh could escape. He quickly tapped back a reply.
𝙸 𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚊 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐.
He watched out of the corner of his eye as Remus’ device buzzed and he read his message. Remus smiled wickedly, and quickly tapped at his screen. After he sent the message, he looked up and gazed at Logan, one eyebrow raised.
𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚎, 𝙸'𝚍 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚗 … 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚢 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗…
When his device vibrated, Logan blinked at the message and fought to suppress a grin. He quickly sent a response and smiled innocently, waiting for Remus to read it.
𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞. 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔…
Blushing, he nudged Remus with his shoulder. The taller man grinned back, waggling his eyebrows. Logan bit his lips, attempting to stifle the laughter trying to bubble its way to the surface. The security guard standing by the Blue Whale plaque a few yards away cleared his throat, glaring at them.
It was finally Wednesday evening and the pair had met for their second date at the Museum of Natural History for a members-only preview of the new gemstone exhibit. The presumably exclusive event had turned the ordinarily tame main hall into a raucous zoo of over-dressed patrons milling about with champagne glasses and under-chilled paté. The crowd mingled and gossiped while they took selfies in front of the T-Rex and feigned appreciation for the geological significance of an unpolished, six-thousand kilogram garnet.
Remus and Logan had spent ten torturous minutes braving the crowd before making their escape down to the quieter and cooler ocean life display. It was one of the older exhibits in the museum and, tonight, at least, was nearly empty. One other couple had also made their way out of the fray to take advantage of the relative calm of the surrounding sea dioramas. Still, the guard watched the two of them like a nervous chaperone, seeming to fear they would suddenly strip and start rutting right there on the polished wooden bench.
Remus’ phone buzzed and he quickly checked it. He mimed a disappointed look when he read Logan’s serious response. He slid a few inches away from Logan on the bench, eyeing him carefully. He began tapping at his phone, composing a new message. He wrote for a long time. At one point, Logan tried to peer over his shoulder to see what he was writing but Remus stuck out his tongue and twisted away, obscuring his screen from the shorter man’s view.
Rolling his eyes and grinning, Logan crossed his legs and pointedly stared out at the coral reef diorama in the nearest display case as Remus continued to tap away at his phone. Finally, Remus’ tapping ceased and Logan held his phone tightly in anticipation, waiting for the buzz that would alert him that he’d received Remus’ message. Finally, he felt his phone vibrate and after a moment, Remus playfully stomped his foot, staring at Logan. Pressing his lips tightly together to suppress his laughter, Logan made a show of counting to sixty before checking his phone.
Finally, he opened the message and began to read the rather lengthy text Remus had composed. He nearly dropped his phone when he got about fifty words in and Remus let out a sharp cackle before whispering, “Sorry!” to the guard, covering his mouth with his hand. Logan’s neck and face grew hot and before he’d even finished reading the message, he stood and tugged at Remus’ sleeve. He leaned close to his ear to whisper, “How about we get out of here and you can show me if you really mean that?”
Shimmying his shoulders, Remus purred back in his ear, “All you had to do was ask!”
Their muffled chuckles echoed through the lobby as they raced toward the exit hand-in-hand. Logan and Remus burst out laughing as they ran and pushed their way through the revolving doors, spilling out into the mild spring night. They caught their breath at the top of the steps, Logan hiding his face behind Remus' shoulder as passerbys stared at the pair in tuxedos behaving like children who'd escaped a field trip. Remus grinned and made an exaggerated shushing motion at one greying woman who glared at them as she walked her Shiba Inu. "Shhh!" he stage whispered. "Keep it down or our parents'll catch us."
Logan stiffened briefly and rubbed his crooked fingers. They still ached sometimes from the fractures that had never been properly set. He tried to force away the memory.
Seeming to notice Logan's sudden shift in mood, Remus turned and cupped his cheek. Logan closed his eyes as he placed his hand over Remus', capturing the warmth of the taller man's palm against his face. He smiled up at him and leaned closer, inhaling the soft musky fragrance of his cologne and the hint of cinnamon from his favorite mints.
Remus wrapped his other arm around Logan's waist, closing the distance between them and capturing his lips in a breathless kiss.
When they came up for air, Remus murmured against Logan's ear, his hot breath sending a cascade of goosebumps over his flesh. "Can I bring you home?"
"Y—yes," Logan croaked before clearing his throat. You can bring me anywhere. He shook his head slightly, grasping at his last tendrils of logical thought. "We'll have an easier time getting a Lyft or a cab if we get crosstown first." He tilted his chin toward the entrance of Central Park across the street. "It's a lovely night. We could cut across the park."
"Oh, Mr. Sanders! You're not trying to get me into the park for a little public indecency, are you?" Logan’s breath hitched and then he felt a flash of shame when Remus continued, shaking his head. “Oh, no, that’s wrong.” Remus let his hands fall down to Logan's hips and swayed them back and forth as he growled against Logan’s neck. "What I meant to say is 'please take me into the park for a little public indecency!'"
Logan’s voice momentarily failed him. Finally he managed to whisper back, “It would be unwise at this time of the night. NYPD has extra patrols after dark.’ Remus pulled back slightly and gazed into his eyes, a little pout tugging at his lower lip. Logan felt himself getting lost in those emerald pools. “Besides,” he continued, “I do not believe what you texted me would work outdoors.”
A half an hour later, they were mid-way through the park, and had stopped to admire the way the moon reflected off of Turtle Pond… and because Logan couldn’t resist the way the moonlight reflected off of Remus’ eyes and had drawn him into a kiss. Remus' hands felt hot against his body where he'd slipped them underneath his tuxedo jacket, seeming to burn through the cotton of his shirt. He’d started to melt into Remus’ embrace when a sudden sound drew his attention and he broke away.
“What’s wrong?” Remus asked, arms still wrapped around Logan’s waist as he turned, staring out at the poorly lit path around them. He’d just opened his mouth to respond when a gangly man in a worn leather jacket stepped out of the shadows, the glint of a knife flashing near his hip.
“Oye, lovebirds. Your wallets, now.”
Remus made a surprised sound as Logan stepped between him and the man with the knife. “I don’t think so. Move along.”
“Shut the fuck up, petardo, and gimme your fucking wallets!” The man lunged toward them. Logan grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer and he twisted the man’s hand up against his own chest, just puncturing his shirt with the tip of his own knife. Keeping his body between Remus and the man, Logan pressed his fingers into the soft juncture of his neck and shoulder and hissed quietly in his ear. “Maldito pendejo, lo tocas y desearías que solo te hubiero matado. Lárgate de aquí!” (You fucking idiot, touch him and you’ll wish that I’d only killed you. Get the fuck out of here.)
The man struggled, wincing as Logan’s fingers dug painfully into his shoulder. Logan calmly stared into his eyes, pushing the man’s hand and the tip of the knife against his ribs. His eyes widened and Logan could feel the tiny pop reverberate through the man’s hand as the tip of the sharp blade pierced his skin. The man dropped the knife and ran. Logan kicked the knife off the path and into the lake, then turned to Remus.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he reached up to cup Remus’ face in his hands. Logan’s brow furrowed as he searched his eyes, gently brushing his thumbs over Remus’ cheekbones, his lips. He felt the rock in his stomach soften when Remus’ mouth curled up in a smile.
“Holy fuck that was hot!” Remus bounced on the balls of his feet and squeezed Logan’s shoulders, looking him up and down with wide eyes. “What the fuck did you say to him? My Spanish is rusty, but I think I heard the word ‘dead?’”
Logan tried to laugh, shaking his head. “It—it was nothing. I—I just told him, um, that your dead grandmother’s rosary was in your wallet. I, um, I was just going for sympathy but I… I think it spooked him and he thought I was trying to curse him.”
“Damn,” Remus bit his lower lip, “We’re gonna have to find out what else you can say in Spanish.”
Looking up and down the dark path, Logan suppressed a shudder and forced the smile to remain on his lips. “If we start moving again, I can give you a preview… “ Remus grinned and tugged at Logan’s hand. Once they were several yards away and on a brighter section of the trail through the park, Logan whispered in his ear, “Vamos a follar hasta que no podamos caminar.”
Remus sucked in a breath and held his hand tighter. “I know half those words and they’re all good.”
---
Later that night, Logan lay wrapped in Remus’ arms, his back pressed against the heat of his chest. Logan was tracing the sharp, shadowed lines of his favorite part of Remus’ tattoo sleeves. It was a simple monochrome design that depicted a grinning, robed skeleton bearing the scales of justice, lifting the edge of his blindfold and peeking out. He smiled as Remus nuzzled the back of his neck, the bristles of his mustache sending sparks across Logan's skin.
Remus’ low voice rumbled against his back and it sent a fuzzy heat through his body. “Will you stay tonight?” He closed his eyes. Logan knew he should say no. He was too relaxed, too unfiltered, too raw around this man. It left him vulnerable and put him at risk of letting down his guard completely and making a mistake.
Remus turned him around in his embrace, a soft, hopeful smile lighting up his face.
No. Say no, Logan. Say no. No.
Steeling himself, Logan met Remus' dancing eyes and took a deep breath.
“Yes,” Logan whispered. “I’d love to stay.”
Wrapped in Remus’ arms, every cell in his body felt alive, each sensation overpowering his controls. Their heated skin, the fluffy cloud of the covers half-draped over their bodies, the sudden flex of Remus’ muscles as he leaned in to kiss his mouth… all of it roiled through his skin, his flesh, his bones. His heart swelled and he felt warmed from the inside out while his mind buzzed with a soft chant of Remus’ name.
Logan closed his eyes and let go, falling into their kiss.
---
It was nearly dawn when hunger finally lured them from Remus’ bedroom. Logan was swimming in a borrowed hoodie and pair of slightly too-long joggers. Remus had reluctantly slipped on a pair of fleece shorts only after Logan reminded him that the curtains were still open in the living room.
Remus poked around in his refrigerator and his freezer. “Do you like lasagna?” He pulled a wrapped package from the top shelf.
“Hmm… that appears to be home-made.”
Remus scoffed and pressed a hand to his chest. “Of course it is! Are you implying that writers can’t cook?”
Laughing, Logan laced his fingers behind Remus’ neck and pulled him down into a slow kiss, stopping only when the other suddenly broke away as the dish threatened to slip from his grip. “Will that suffice for an apology?”
“Ah, well... We’ll have to see,” Remus feigned a hurt look that was belied by the happy twitching of his mustache and the flush crawling from his chest and neck up to his hairline. “How about I get this in the oven… and then you can try your apology again?”
The moment Remus closed the oven door, Logan put one hand on his hip and the other gently twisted through his hair. He tugged at his body until Remus faced him and he hungrily captured his lips. Snaking one hand around Logan's waist and the other across his back, Remus drew their bodies closer together, deepening the kiss.
Suddenly, Remus stiffened, making a low whining sound in the back of his throat. Logan pulled away, wide eyes scanning Remus’ face. "What is it? Did I—did I hurt you?"
He shook his head rapidly, pulling him back into their embrace. "No, no, no, everything's fine, I—” he crushed their lips together again and Logan hummed happily.
Remus broke away again, a small frustrated groan bursting from his lips. "Ugh, I'm so sorry… I—I—” he fumbled at the countertop, reaching for a pen cup. "I just gotta write something down before it—" he made a floaty motion with his hand, then grinned when his fingers closed on a Sharpie.
A low, pleased laugh began to bubble up from Logan's chest as he released him. "Oh, of course…" Logan watched as Remus scribbled furiously on his hand with the marker. Once he ran out of room on his left hand, Remus switched, and continued his frantic scrawl on his right. Logan grinned and began to tug him toward his bedroom.
He steered him down the hall, toward his desk and storyboard and turned on the desk lamp, where Remus seamlessly picked up an index card, swapped the marker for a pen, and continued to write. Logan sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him with rapt attention.
After several minutes of writing, Remus began to tack some of the new cards up on his storyboard. He took a step back and peered at the board, head tilted. He suddenly leapt forward, shifting the red string from one pinned point to another. In a flurry of writing and sketching, Remus added more cards and attached them to the board, as well. Several of the existing cards ended up in a small stack in the corner of his desk, which Remus now shuffled through, sorting into three separate piles.
Logan watched him for a few more minutes and then wordlessly left the room. He returned a short while later with a handful of napkins, a large glass of ice water, and a cup of tea, setting them down on a clear spot at the far edge of the desk. While Logan was gone, Remus had pulled out a larger sheet of heavy paper and had begun to sketch with charcoal, a shadowed, interlocking pattern of what looked like stones now covering most of the page.
After several more minutes of sketching and note-taking, Logan squinted at the clock. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Remus actually drink anything, so he picked up a napkin and wrapped it around the glass to absorb the condensation on its surface. He stroked Remus’ arm and held out the water, smiling at his vacantly surprised expression. “Drink,” he said, as he nodded at the glass in his hand. Remus finished half of it in a few gulps before resuming his work.
The next two hours followed a similar pattern. Every thirty or so minutes, Logan would place either the water glass or the tea in Remus’ hand and he would drink greedily for a few seconds before returning his attention to the storyboard. About half-way through his explosion of creativity, the savory aroma of the baking lasagna wafted into the bedroom. Logan's stomach grumbled but Remus seemed unaffected. Logan went to the kitchen and peeled back the aluminum foil and allowed it to cook, uncovered, for five minutes more. Finally, he removed it from the oven and set it aside, loosely covered, and checked on Remus.
Remus was standing in front of his storyboard, one hand gripping three different colored pencils, the other tangled in his hair. He turned when Logan let a floorboard creak as he re-entered the room. “I’ve almost got it,” he whispered as though he feared speaking any louder would disrupt the cards set out on his desk.
Logan stood behind him and drew his arms around his waist, slowly stroking the smooth skin near his hips with his thumbs. He gave Remus a gentle squeeze and kissed his bare shoulder. “Would talking help?” he asked, just as quietly.
Licking his lips, eyes darting between the board and the cards in front of him, Remus nodded. He picked up a card and held it out in front of a tangled mass on the outer edge of the board. “I need the antagonist to get away with murder.” Logan stiffened, and Remus added, “Attempted murder. It’s too soon for the protagonist to know that the lab tech is really the scientist from the last book. I just need to slow her down, but she can’t actually die yet.” He bit his lip, turning to look at Logan. “And she can’t be suspicious. She has to think it’s an accident or….”
Logan furrowed his brow, “You could make her sick.”
“No, she’s healthy and able…”
“No, I mean, have the lab tech administer something that would make her ill. But not anything that would come up on a tox screen if she were to test herself.”
Remus nodded rapidly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Yeah! She’s totally the type to test her own blood as soon as she’s feeling under the weather.” He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, she’s maybe a little paranoid,” he laughed.
“It is not an unreasonable concern. Her lab tech is actually trying to poison her.” Logan winked at Remus.
His eyes were fixed again on the board and he leaned over, feeling for his laptop. “What can he give her, though, that she wouldn’t notice and that would make her sick enough to bench her for a chapter or two?” He opened the laptop and a fresh browser tab. Remus’ hands hovered over the keys as he gnawed at his lip, thinking.
“For how long do you need the illness to last?”
Chuckling, Remus joked, “I know. We’ll order one illness on drugstore.com, three to five days’ worth.”
Logan found the card on the board with each character’s breakdown. “No allergies?” he asked.
Remus sighed and shook his head.
“Does she drink coffee?”
“By the gallon.”
“Flavored coffee?” Logan raised an eyebrow.
Remus grinned and rubbed his hands together, “What are you thinking?”
“Cinnamon oil would be unlikely to come up on a tox screen unless she was specifically looking for it. If she is a habitual coffee drinker, and”—he pointed to her character card—”a heavy smoker, she won’t likely taste much of it. In the proper concentration, you could induce something akin to a diabetic coma.” He raised a finger when Remus scrunched his nose. “But she’s not actually diabetic, so she would recover as long as the initial dose was properly titrated.” He shrugged. “She’d only feel like she was dying. For a few days.”
Remus clapped his hands together, his mustache dancing over his grin as he beamed at Logan. “I like it!” He looked over the board. “That would give the antagonist time to clear out the evidence from his storage locker and—”
Logan shook his head. “He wouldn’t have a storage locker. Not at a reputable facility that would be sufficiently secure to hide anything important. It would be unwise to pay with a credit card—it’s too traceable. And the decent ones don’t take cash.” Logan shrugged. “If he’s smart, he’d rent a motel room for a few days while he needs a place to store the extra equipment.”
“Logan!” Remus grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him fiercely. “You just saved me from a plot hole!” He stepped back, tugging at his mustache. “Or… Oh! That’s how he gets caught. Yes!” Remus scrawled something on another card and tacked it on the upper edge of the board. Engrossed in his process, Remus continued to fill index cards as he spoke. “That’s it! Fuck, yes! Oh, Logan! How do you feel about a fall wedding? You’re a keeper!”
Logan blushed and watched Remus write for a few more minutes. Finally, he gathered Remus’ empty glass and tea cup to refill them. In the kitchen, he set a timer for one hour, pledging to himself to make Remus stop to eat if he was still working when it sounded. Returning to Remus’ bedroom, Logan set down a fresh cup of tea and a full glass of water before settling into Remus’ desk chair with his own tea to watch Remus create.
---
Remus woke with a yawn that came out more like a groan. He was pleasantly warm, the room bright with sunshine diffused through the sheer curtains Logan had helped him select a few weeks ago. Over the last month or so, the pair had fallen into a comfortable pattern. Their dates would begin somewhere innocuous and, perhaps, a little tourist-y. Last week, it had been the South Street Seaport. Last night had been Lincoln Center. Wherever they met, inevitably, they would make their way back to Remus's apartment and the hours would slip away as they lost themselves in each other.
“Hmm, you’re awake,” Logan’s voice purred, quiet and low and gravelly. Remus closed his eyes and sighed contentedly as Logan tightened his arms around his body and nuzzled sleepily against his neck.
“Mm-hm…” Remus smiled, relishing the warmth of Logan’s body seeping through his skin. He sunk into the sensation, feeling their limbs meld together. His eyes snapped open when realized just how much he was feeling. “Oh! Well, good morning? Ah, are you, um…?”
A small laugh bubbled against Remus’ ear, the sound rumbling from deep in Logan’s throat. He hummed again, feather-light kisses against Remus’ back punctuating his words. “Waking up with you… amazing, sexy… naked in my arms… I believe it is an unavoidable condition.”
He held his breath as Logan’s hand gently brushed down his chest and his belly. Remus felt the man’s smile grow against his shoulder. “And I see it’s a mutual condition.” His cheeks flushed. “I must ask you a question, though…”
His low voice reverberated through the skin of Remus’ back. Breath caught in his throat, Remus managed to whisper, "Anything."
Logan pulled him closer and growled against the side of his neck, "What do you plan to do about it?"
Remus’ heart pounded in his chest. He rolled over and melted from the heat in Logan’s eyes. “Oh, I’ve got some ideas….”
---
Finally, the march of time and their undeniable need for a good scrub brought them back to a bit of reality. After a longer-than-strictly necessary shower, Logan helped Remus strip the bed of the wrinkled sheets, re-making it with a fresh set from the linen closet. Before replacing the pillows, Logan tugged at something caught between the mattress and the headboard and pulled out Remus’ weighted blanket.
“Oh, sorry," Remus mumbled. "Um, I’ll take that.” He looked down, blushing and hands twitching as he worked to fold the heavy material. He looked around for somewhere to stash it.
Logan smiled, “Weighted blankets are a valuable tool for managing anxiety. You needn’t hide it unless you wish to.” He stood near the foot of Remus’ bed and held out his hands, eyebrows raised. Remus brought it to him and Logan carefully laid the folded blanket over the foot of the bed, smoothing it out and tugging at the edges until it was perfectly symmetrical. “It will be easier to reach when you need it if you keep it out.”
Remus stared down at his bed. “Thanks, it… it looks nice like this.” His voice was rough but he smiled as he looped an arm around Logan’s waist and drew him closer. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you relax while I make us some coffee? And maybe some breakfast? I’ve got bagels and stuff.”
Logan chuckled as he brushed a hand down Remus’ chest. “You do not need to serve me. I’m happy to help.”
“Nuh-huh.” Remus shook his head, now grinning. “Nope. You’re going to relax and I’m going to make you breakfast or lunch whatever the hell we should call it.”
He started toward the doorway and Logan began to follow so Remus spread his arms across the open door, playfully blocking the hallway. “You shall not pass!”
Laughing, Logan let out an exaggerated sigh and sat at Remus’ desk. “Fine….”
“There ya go… look, your phone’s right there. You can watch YouTube or something.” Logan laughed and shook his head, squealing in surprise when Remus snuck one more kiss against the back of his neck before escaping out to the kitchen.
Still smiling, Logan picked up his phone. After confirming his VPN was still running, he checked his email. There was a small flurry of auto-notifications from several buy and sell orders that a recent IPO series had triggered. He scanned each of them and saw nothing concerning. Having the discipline to follow through on the fact that no human being could actually have more perfect knowledge than the best stock market algorithms made his job simple sometimes. Once he'd made his human decisions around the small 10% he allotted for it in his portfolio, the remaining 90% was all automated, fully in the hands of the algorithm.
It had served him well, with the AI-managed portions of his portfolio consistently outperforming the other 10%, and dramatically outperforming the indices.
He set a reminder to check the Nikkei in twelve hours and gave his attention to the rest of his inbox. Sighing, he opened the email from his brother and called down the hall to Remus. “Patton sent another one.”
Remus entered the room with two cups of coffee. “Okay, let’s hear it.”
Logan rolled his eyes and read from the screen. “‘What do you call an indecisive bee?’” Remus grinned and raised his eyebrows. Suppressing a groan, Logan accepted the coffee and muttered, “A maybe.”
Remus threw his head back, laughing. “I should’ve seen that one coming. Okay, send him this one…” He held Logan’s coffee for a moment to let him type his response. He wiggled in place for a moment, then laughed. “Okay, ‘Did you hear about the gullible cow who visited a tannery?’”
Logan shook his head, unable to stifle a groaning laugh. “Oh, this cannot end well.”
Remus bit his lip and grinned. “‘She was easily suede.’”
“You know, I could just give you Patton’s email address and you two could trade awful puns all day long and leave me out of it.”
Remus sat down next to Logan on the bed and returned his coffee. As soon as his hand was freed, he brushed back a lock of Logan’s still-damp hair and lightly kissed the shell of his ear. “But watching you roll your eyes at our corny jokes is half the fun.”
He kissed the side of his head and returned to the kitchen to finish cooking. Logan scrolled further down, deleting several messages without bothering to open them until he saw the subject Matchr Data Request/GDPR User Request Response #9293.
Logan opened the email and quickly scanned the standard mashup of marketspeak and legalese boilerplate. 'Thank you for your interest in the services we provide you at Matchr, the internet's top matching service. As part of our commitment to you and your privacy, here is a compilation of all data...
He paused at the size of the data file. 254.37 MB, zipped. Logan shook his head. That shouldn't be possible. How did you get your grubby little hands on that much data about me?
Logan flagged the email to review once he went home later that afternoon and closed his email just as Remus returned, smiling, carrying a tray of toasted bagels, a large bowl of strawberries and more coffee.
He set the tray on the side of the bed and, with a flourish, waved and snapped open a cloth napkin he'd had draped over his arm. Winking, he laid the napkin over Logan's lap, letting his fingers brush against his thighs as he did. "Oh, excuse me, sir," he said, before turning to reach for Logan's empty cup. Pushing aside all thoughts of emails and data files and puns, Logan pulled Remus onto his lap, laughing as he warned, "Watch out for the tray!"
---
Janus got to the office early the following Monday. The team was scheduled to meet their angel investors that afternoon and he hadn’t yet found the hook for their presentation. Once the rest of the team, including his garrulous assistant and his loving but incredibly distracting husband, arrived, no amount of concentration would grant him the focus he needed to properly prepare. He opened his office door and scowled when the motion detector in his office did not turn on the lights. He slapped at the switch on the wall and swore under his breath when the office remained dark. Leaving the door to slowly close behind him, Janus had taken one step toward his desk when his small banker’s lamp suddenly clicked on.
Logan Sanders sat in his tall leather chair, legs crossed at the ankle, feet propped on the edge of the desk. “You’ve been careless, Mr. Woods.” he said, not looking up as Janus stared at him, the door closing behind him with a quiet clunk. He hummed, adjusting his glasses as he flipped through a thick sheaf of printed algorithm output. “Rather more arrogant than strictly sloppy, though, I suppose.”
Janus’s eyes widened as he fumbled behind his back, grasping for the door handle.
“Don’t bother.” Gaze still fixed on the stack of papers in his lap, Logan raised a gloved hand and waved the tiny controller he must have found fastened to the underside of the middle desk drawer. “The remote electronic locks you had installed last year are quite effective.”
Pausing his perusal of the documents, Logan invited Janus to take a seat in front of his own desk. Janus eyed where the man's boots rested on its polished surface. "You needn't worry," Logan murmured without appearing to have looked up. "I ensured the soles are clean and won't leave any residue behind to mar your lovely desk here. Mahogany, is it?"
"Red ivorywood."
Logan chuckled. "Of course it is."
“How did you get into my office?” Janus began to mentally compile a list of security staff who would no longer be staff by the end of the day.
Logan rolled his eyes. “That’s a boring question." Janus just glared. "Fine. Not using your spouse's birthdate as a key code isn't just security advice for the straights, you know." Janus felt his face grow hot. Especially when your spouse's twin is fucking a madman, he thought to himself.
"Don’t you wonder why I’m here?” Logan asked.
“I would assume Remus has told you some of our shared history and you’re here for a little revenge?”
“Oh, I assure you, this is strictly business, Mr. Woods." Logan frowned slightly, eyes still fixed on the documents before him. "If I felt the need to have a personal discussion with you, I would have stopped by your apartment on 49th street.”
“Stay the fuck away from my home.”
“Hm, well that’s just like placing a book on a high shelf and telling no-one to read it.” Logan shook his head. “Regardless, your personal failings are not my concern at the moment. I’m here about your little algorithm and the data you use to feed it.”
Janus leaned back in his seat and waved his hand as though he stood before a presentation screen. “We have an excellent track record and, from what I observed a few weeks ago, seemed to have found you a compatible match.”
“Yes, Remus and I are incredibly compatible. Literally incredible. Nearly all of my internet usage is funneled through a VPN. It should not be possible for your little system to find even a mediocre match for me, let alone someone with whom I actually have anything in common.”
Janus leaned back in his chair, tucking his arm behind him on the back rest and crossing one leg over the other, ankle at the knee. "If I understand you correctly, you had a good time on your date and so you became suspicious because our matching algorithm was too effective? That would make a great ad." Janus tried to laugh but it came out sounding choked to even his own ears. Logan’s smile grew when Janus cleared his throat. "And so you requested your full data file and found activity that you knew you performed through a VPN."
"Not a VPN. Your VPN."
"What are you talking about?" Janus' eyes shifted around the office and he discretely laid his hand over the keys in his pocket.
"TwoFace VPN, of which you are the controlling owner."
Logan held up a financial report from the stack on his desk.
"Silent owner." Janus shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. He watched as Logan’s eyes flicked over to the tremor in his fingers and he delicately folded them in his lap. "Owner on paper only. I have no visibility or control over day to day operations."
"Yes, that is correct. Your control is restricted to contracts, such as this one which grants Matchr full access to all user activity from TwoFace VPN."
Janus paled but his voice remained steady. "Pure speculation."
Tutting quietly, Logan hefted the sheaf of reports in front of him. “As you well know from the data you’ve scraped from my VPN usage, it's part of my job to read between the lines in stock filings.”
“Fine,” Janus rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, feigning boredom. “So you're bent out of shape that I know what porn sites you’ve visited and matched you to a compatible man. What's the problem?"
Logan chuckled without smiling, low and humorless. The sound made Janus’ skin crawl. “Oh, my quibble with the morality of your operation is the least of your problems. What sort of people do you suppose regularly use VPNs? You should know, they're not all trying to watch Friends on French Netflix as your advertisements might lead one to believe.”
He met Janus’ eyes, a slow smile spreading on his face. “What do you think would happen if someone actually dangerous were to be told that you had stored their VPN activity and could trace it back to them individually?”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Well, yes.” Logan raised his eyebrows as though surprised. “I thought that was obvious.”
“You’d release your own data just to pwn me?”
Logan fanned through the report on his lap, opening to a seemingly random page. “Oh, you didn’t think this was a printout of my data stored in your systems, did you?” He shook his head, brow furrowed as he adjusted his glasses then tapped at the report. “No, no, no, no, no. I have something different here.”
He began to read. “‘Gambino, Carlo. Matchr ID number 937673. From gambinoc_history_full.csv row 296. Query: “hookers near me”.’” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Fucking moron.” He continued to read.
“‘Row 297: “24 hour dry cleaner”.’” Logan met Janus’ eyes again while flipping through the report without looking. He resumed reading. Janus noticed that some of the pages in the report had been dogeared.
“‘Siegel, Bertrand.’” Logan pointed down at the report. “You probably know him as ‘Lil Bugsey.’ from his last racketeering trial. ‘Matchr ID number 535893. From siegelb_history_full.csv, row 917’”—he looked up briefly to raise an eyebrow at Janus—”Hm. ‘Query: “judge peter j. gable home address nyc.” Row 918, query: “directions to 222 east 39th murray hill”.’” Logan tilted his head briefly at Janus. “Interesting,” he murmured as he flipped to a new page without looking. He met Janus’ eyes, then began to read.
“‘King, Roman T. Matchr ID number 000004.’” Janus’ hands started to shake. “‘From kingrt_history_full.csv, row 118. Query: reverse lookup discord username:octodare.’” He frowned. “There’s an app for that, you know. A little tacky, though, don’t you think, to have your husband stalk your ex-boyfriend online?” He squinted at the printout. “Though… judging by the datetime stamp, my guess is this is before you were married.”
Janus narrowed his eyes, fingers digging into the armrest of his chair. “‘Row 119, query: whois dns lookup for 193.653.98.’” Logan paused, eyes trained on the report before him. “‘Row 120... Query: ‘crisis suicide text line us.’” Janus thought he heard Logan’s breath catch. He silently read the report for a few moments, then cleared his throat and flipped a few pages ahead. Logan resumed his recitation of Roman’s search history. “‘Row 2326. Query: herbal remedy erectile—’”
“That’s enough!” Janus stood, slamming his hands on the desk. Logan didn’t flinch. “You’ve made your point, Sanders.” He grit his teeth, fighting to lower his voice. “What do you want?”
“I want you to expunge all of my data. Every bit and byte of it. And I want proof that you’ve obliterated any shred of evidence of me or my data from your systems. After you’ve finished, you will grant me access to ensure you were thorough in your removal.”
“What makes you think I won't just store it elsewhere?”
Logan looked down at the report in his lap, then raised his eyebrow at him. “I thought you were supposed to be smart.”
Janus glared at Logan. He took a few deep breaths, consciously relaxing his jaw to stop grinding his teeth. He let out one more slow exhale and met Logan’s eyes. “Fine. Fine, whatever it is you're hiding… I'll make sure your information is off our servers. I will then allow you three supervised hours on our systems to poke and prod to your heart’s content.”
Logan nodded and began to lower his feet from the desk. Janus held up a hand.
“We’re not done yet.
“Whatever you may think you know about my personal history with Remus, you need to know that he is very dear to me.” Logan chuckled darkly, eyebrow raised, as he held up the picture sitting on Janus’ desk from his and Roman’s wedding. Janus sucked his teeth. “Remus… Remus is a better man than any of us." He looked down at his hands. "You need to be real with him, Sanders. Whichever ‘you’ is real, whether it’s the one he's falling for, or the one who breaks into people's offices to blackmail them, just…” Janus let his mask drop.
He leaned over the desk, getting as close to Logan as he dared. “Please just let him go if this is all a game to you. I know that look in his eyes. He's… He doesn't deserve to have his heart broken.” Janus’ eyes landed on the picture frame still in Logan’s gloved hands. “Not again.”
Janus straightened to his full height and crossed his arms in front of him. “Or, so help me, if you hurt that man… whatever the fuck we may have in these files that has you so concerned…” Janus shook his head and stared Logan in the eye. “I can guarantee that will be the least of your worries.”
Smirking, Logan raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”
“Well, yes. I thought that was obvious.”
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