Logicality Short Stories

Angel

AU: Summer Of Love (1969)
Ship(s): Logicality
T/W: Police brutality, homophobia, injury, blood, crying, argument, bar mention, gun mention.
Type: Hurt/Comfort
Notes: *emerges from my cave* Time to torture my baby. (The Palace Club is a gay bar and a big part of the ballroom scene during the 60s and 70s)

~~~~~

Patton's sleepy brain could barely comprehend what he was seeing. Logan. Logan Moore was standing on his porch. His glasses half-shattered, covered in cuts and bruises, and clutching his side, one of his soft hazel eyes glossy with tears and the other was blackened, nearly swollen shut.
"Patton," Logan's rough, gravely voice pulled him back to the present. "Please let me in." Patton didn't even hesitate. He dashed through the door, supporting Logan to his couch, quickly closing and locking the door behind them.
"The police, they—they raided The Palace Club," Logan explained as Patton carefully peeled off his ripped tie and polo to examine his side. "They put so many people in cuffs, Patton, people were—were screaming, they were beating people, Emile got shot, I—I didn't know where else to go." His voice caught on a sob as Patton lightly brushed his finger tips along his side. Sickening shades of purples and reds bloomed across his ribs, some taking the shapes of boot marks.
"And you got away?" Patton asked. Logan nodded silently, fiddling with his broken glasses. Patton shook his head as he tried to keep the tears at bay. "Lo, I think your ribs are broken, you should've gone to the hospital." Logan's eyes filled with panic.
"Patton, no. No, I couldn't. The police, they—they know, they know I was there, if I tell the doctors what happened—where I was... I'll be a dead man." Patton clutched the cross around his neck and did something he hadn't done since he was small. He prayed. He prayed that it would all be okay, that they wouldn't have to live in fear anymore, that they could just live.
"Can you stand?" Patton threaded his fingers with Logan's.
"Yes, I think so," Logan said, unsure if the heat flooding his body was from his injuries or from Patton holding his hand. Patton assisted his friend to his feet and practically carried him to the bathroom. He sat Logan on the toilet and wet a cloth with practiced ease. His face was hard and emotionless, but his eyes. Logan could tell from his eyes that this was hurting him. He opened his mouth to say something, maybe apologize, but Patton spoke before he could.
      "Why do you to those places? Another one is raided every week, countless people are hurt, murdered... it's dangerous, Logan! I mean look at you! Why can't you just—"
      "What?! Hide? Like you do?" Patton froze.
      "Don't do that."
      "I refuse to ever be as terrified as you are, Patton, I refuse to hide from the world! What are you so afraid of?!" Patton's eyes filled with tears and Logan pretended he didn't notice.
      "Logan, stop."
      "Tell me!" Patton smashed their lips together without warning. Logan felt Patton's tears cooling on his face as the same heat flooded his body.
      Their lips fit perfectly together like puzzle pieces. Logan let his eyes flutter shut as his hand flew to Patton's hair, tangling his fingers into the soft, sandy curls that bounced when Patton got excited. He felt Patton's arms around his waist, the same arms that hugged and held him when he was upset. He felt Patton's lips that he'd imagined kissing for years. Then he felt the cold again.
      Patton pulled away, if only a few centimeters, and Logan could feel his breath as he exhaled shakily and his lips moving as he spoke.
      "I'm terrified of losing you." Patton connected their lips again, and again, and again, and again. Everything about the two of them felt right. Like every hardship was leading up to this moment.
      When Patton pulled away for a final time, the cloth was almost dried.
      "Let's get you cleaned up, Lo," Patton said as he rewet the cloth.
      "Thank you, Patton," Logan took his hand and kissed his freckled knuckles. "You're an angel."