Sanders Sides One-shots

Touch (BROT6/OT6 - Poly)

Ship: BROT6/OT6 Poly with all the Sides (Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil, Remus, Janus)

TW: none

Word count: 3320

Logan-centric, kinda

OKAY. IT'S JULY 12TH, 2021. THE WORLD IS GONE TO SHIT BUT WE'RE STILL HERE, FOUR YEARS DOWN THE LINE

In case y'all aren't aware, July 12th is the anniversary of this booklet, so here we are with another chapter as recognition of that. 

Thank you to anyone who's reading this, especially anyone who's stuck around for any length of time. I really appreciate it. I have more to say later on, but for now:

Note is at the bottom!

Logan would never go so far as to say he had ever been touch starved. There had been that period where the Sides had been nothing more than Traits; a time where they were nothing but their roles.

Logic, Morality, Romantic Creativity, Intrusive Creativity, Deceit, and Anxiety.

Facets of a personality, and nothing more.

During that time, it was a path that had been tread. It was a thin line -- gossamer silk, misty wisps, the silvery edge of a knife -- that had teetered on the precarious side of just enough.

Logan had never been touch starved -- he was too logical for that; he knew of skin hunger, of the goosebumps of a starved, malnourished chill, the twitching of hands to reach out, grab, hold on, and had made sure to never let that itch settle beneath his skin. Some days, he felt the thrum of it like the echo of his heartbeat, craving someone's touch, but it never took long for it to settle and fall back into grey noise.

Now though, with Patton, Roman, Remus, Janus, and Virgil, he's on solid ground. He has not walked along that tightrope in months now, and he feels more present in his own body.

Now, in a Mindscape that's filled to the brim with life and light and love -- with worn but soft carpet that's been scrubbed clean of too many of Remus' concoctions, a sofa with a permanent hollow from Virgil's perpetual presence, Janus' cloak continuously draped over the back of a seat, Roman's sword glinting and recently polished upon some hooks on the wall, Patton's many, many onesies strewn across the floor -- Logan doesn't think he'll ever have to tread it again.

It's damn near impossible to be touch starved in this family, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

~~~~~~~~~~

Patton

Surprising absolutely no one, Patton is the most physically (and verbally) affectionate of all the Sides. Before, when they'd only been Logic and Morality, his main source of touch had come from Morality.

It starts small -- infinitesimal, you could say. For all that Patton is bubbly, with an unending stream of optimism and enough light in his grin to cause spots to appear in Logan's vision, he had never been oblivious. Compassion and consideration had framed his eyes, small crows feet crinkling as he smiled softly, and behind those thick rimmed glasses, he'd kept watch for boundaries.

Logan didn't find physical contact overbearing or overtly invasive, but he wasn't one to initiate it himself.

So when Patton had first handed him a coffee -- no sugar, but enough creamer to make it swirl a brilliant oak brown -- he'd tentatively brushed their fingers together, flicking his eyes to meet Logan's from under his bangs. And Logan had indulged him, let him know it's okay by quirking the corner of his lips just so, and let their fingers overlap for a second as he gripped the mug's handle.