Random Things that May Be Writing

Snooze (Sanders sides, Logan-centric)

AN: Angst? ME? Neverrrrrr >:3 So, platonic cuddle piles and sadness ensue. 

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Logan was on a roll. He had the plans for all the sides written out for the next week, and was now busy researching possible diets to improve cognitive thought. 

This was a much better use of his time than the silly movie night Patton had arranged. Roman had gallavanted over some time ago  (3 hours? 4?) shouting that he simply must come downstairs. He, of course, declined.

What's the use of a "movie night"? Anything they'd watch would be something Thomas has already seen. No, working was the logical choice.

Logan flinched as a bunch of discordant screaming broke out downstairs. One voice at first, loud and flamboyant. Probably Roman. Then a second, bubbly, but slightly off key. Definitely Patton. A third barely made it's way upstairs, gravelly and quiet. Virgil. Just as he'd suspected, the song was from something they've seen too many times.

"It's our problem freeeeee~!"

"Philosophy! Come on, Virge!"

A sigh. "Hakuna matata.... You guys are dorks."

What a waste. Logan turned back to his work.

-(Time skip brought to you by the author writing in a car :P)

Logan's vision blurs yet again. He really should stop. The logical facet blinks harshly, looking away from the computer screen only to notice something that should've been more obvious.

He was painfully thirsty.

The man leaves his room and pads quietly downstairs, simply because he had no use for making noise. Not because he cared about not waking the others. No way.

He strolls through the living room to the kitchen, and grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. As he recedes back through the living room, he takes notice of the others on the couch.

The Lion King title screen was playing on repeat on the television. And the sides were snuggled together in a way Logan had never seen.

Roman is sprawled out across the couch, his mouth wideopen in a snore. Patton lays across the creative side's chest. His arm is around Virgil, who is sanwiched between the two. 

Logan felt...strange. The ache in his chest felt like more than a concern not to wake them. He froze as his cursed emotion riddled brain cried:

'Why can't I have that? Why do I even want it?'

Though he denied it, and forever would, all the logical facet wanted at that moment was to fall into the pile, and let the warmth envelop him. 

He shook his head. Ridiculous. The man walked quickly towards the stairs. As he passed the others, Patton's hand fell, almost brushing Logan's ankle. He looks at his fellow sides, then up the stairs where a faint blue light beckons him back to work.

(Another time skip brought to you by the author's cold -_-)

Virgil stirs first. His eyes flicker open, and he takes in the blaring music, and the warmth around him.

Roman against his back, Patton against his side.

And Logan on his chest?

The logical traits glasses were askew, and his hair slightly mussed. He was snoring contently.

Though he wasn't alarmed by the trait himself, Virgil stiffened because of the shock, waking Patton.

"Mm. You okay kiddo?" the dad trait mumbled and he rubbed his eyes. Virgil covered his mouth just as Patton beamed and let out the start of a squeal.

"Oh my gosh, LO-"

Virgil hushed him, and gestured to the now awake Roman to keep it down. They all smiled fondly at their companion while he slept. 

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AN: Yay, ending fluff! Platonic LAMP is my weakness rn, and I'm on a 10 hour drive so take this? Love y'all! Byyyyye~!