Logan Sargeant One-Shots || Taking Requests!

Wish You Were Sober

This chapter is based off the song Cinnamon Girl by Lana Del Rey and Wish You Were Sober by Conan Gray.

You were in a close social circle with your brother and his friends, most of them being drivers in motorsport. You grew up knowing most of them, and had developed feelings for Logan, one of the newer editions to the group. However, you felt guilty for having these feelings. You had been in a relationship with a boyfriend who kept his distance from you and your friends. You never understood why until one night your boyfriend barged into your apartment, demanding you break up. He described how much happier he was away from you, and how he found someone else worth his time. Though you knew he was distant, you didn't know he would cheat on you. Nonetheless, you were still heartbroken, and the second he left your flat, you called Logan. Hearing your cries, he quickly made his way to your place, and embraced you in a hug the moment you opened the door. 

"Thank you" you tried to thank Logan for his support, but the tears kept rolling down your face.

"Yeah of course. I'm always here for you," he led you over to your couch, worried you would collapse in the doorway. 

You aired out your grievances to him as the apartment grew darker with the setting of the sun. He held you in his arms, holding you tight as if you were a precious jewel that would be stolen from him if he wasn't careful. You rested your head against his chest as he reassured you that everything would be okay. Though you knew they came from a caring place, you felt like you still had something to say. You had to come clean.

"Logan," you paused, "there's something I need to tell you,"

"What's up?" he sat up slightly from where the two of you were on the couch. 

"He never held, or touched me like this. You're truly the first to get me, to understand me," Your words lingered in the air. You waited, lying in his arms, expecting a response. 

"I... I think it's soon for this," he said, pulling away from you, keeping you at arm's length, "this...this isn't right. I think you need some time to yourself, I'll call your brother." Logan got up to call your brother, his caring demeanor becoming withdrawn, almost standoffish. 

"Logan, did I say something wrong? Are you mad?" you chirped, stunned by his reaction to your confession. 

"No, I'm not... I'm not mad," he sighed, "I'd prefer to have this conversation when you're- when we're both mentally sound," The rest of the night was a blur once Logan had left and your brother came to comfort you. The following days were filled with you distracting yourself with work and hanging out with friends. Things were awkward between you and Logan in private, but with the group, it was as if that night never happened. The two of you never ended having that conversation. 

A few weeks later, the group went clubbing to celebrate the end of the Formula One season. This celebration was big and well-deserved to for the entire group, but Logan had been bitter to the idea of celebrating the season, since it was one for him to forget. Nevertheless, he came along with the group, driving himself to the club. By this point, your cloudy confession had no longer plagued your mind, and you came to peace with staying friends with Logan. You took an Uber to the club, planning to take one home, since you were looking forward to being completely out of it by the end of the night. Early into the evening, you found Logan sitting in the VIP booth that the group had booked. You slid in next to him to give your feet a break from the heels you were wearing. 

"Not feeling it tonight?" you yell over the loud bombing music.

"Yeah, I might just drive myself home early, no shots for me," he responded, sounding tired and dejected. 

"Logan Hunter Sargeant, not touching alcohol? I must be blackout drunk," you teased, even though not  drop of alcohol had touched your lips at that points of the night. 

You left the booth to find your brother, his friends, and their partners. You found yourself striking many conversations, forgetting to drink your cocktail you were carrying around. You made your way back to the booth, spotting Logan passed on on the bench. No one was near the table, and you started to panic. You set your drink down, rushing over to him. 

"Logan?" you nudged him awake, "are you okay Logan?"

He shook awake, his face completely flushed. "Huh?"

"Do you know where you are?" you asked, examining the contents that surrounded him on the table. Five empty shot glasses sat in the middle of the semi-circle shaped table. You knew Logan didn't used to be a lightweight, but he had stopped casually drinking during the Formula One season.

"I know what I am," he slurred, swatting your hand away from helping him up. 

You quickly left the table to find someone from the group to let them know you were leaving with Logan. You hurried back to Logan, making him grab onto you for support as you walked through and out the club. 

"Logan, I'm gonna drive you home okay?" you explained, walking with him to his Range Rover.

"I can drive fine," he whined, throwing his head back, "I'm a driver you know,"

"Yes I know, but just give me the keys, I'll get you home safely" you sighed.

"I will, as long as you don't crash it, if you crash it, my ass is grass" he laughed, reaching for his keys in his blazer pocket. 

You took his keys and unlocked the car, ignoring his mood swings. Once you got him in the front passenger seat and buckled him in, he smirked at you.

"Didn't know you were so...responsible," he teased with a vocal fry. You rolled your eyes at this, knowing this wasn't Logan's true self.

 You got into the driver's seat, and drove the drunk American to his townhome. On the ride there, Logan had random outbursts and comments he threw out at you, but you weren't paying attention to his ramblings, but focusing on getting him home. You parked his Rover outside his home and slowly helped him out of the car. You walked him up to the front door, where Logan tried to sit on one of the lawn chairs, but misjudged where the chair was, falling on the ground. 

"Oh shit," you got down to his level to help him up.

"Are you gonna leave?" he looked up at you.

"No, I wanna make sure you're safe in your house sobering up," you sighed, "grab onto me, I'll get you up," 

Logan reached out for your arm as you extended it, but instead of using you as support, he suddenly jolted you forward towards him.  

"Come on Logan," you groaned, exhausted from the night.

He pulls you closer, his intoxicated breath warm against your face. You knew he could get flirty when he was drunk, but you weren't really having it. He brushed you hair out of your face, gently holding your chin. 

"Stay over," he grumbled, and before you could respond, he pressed his lips against yours, catching you off guard. "Please, stay. I don't wanna make the mistake of drifting from you again. I need you,"

He was such a wreck that you decided to stay, but a replay of the kiss played in your head as you got him through the door and on the couch. He fell asleep after you gave him a glass of water. Just a few weeks ago, you were crying over him and your ex boyfriend, and now here he was, confessing and kissing you. You wished he was sober. You wished this wasn't just a one time thing, but you knew very well that it was. Drunk words are just sober thoughts right?