Title: To Explore, to Display (Part 2)

Characters/Pairings: Jett/Logan/James (in every variation), Camille, Jennifer, Kendall.

Spoilers: Alternate universe. The band Big Time Rush does not exist.

Rating: NC-17 (PG-13 for Part 2)

Warnings: Sexual content, polyamory, language, light violence.

Word Count: 8.8k.

Summary: James and Jett have always had a relationship of convenience. When Logan involuntarily steps between the two of them, the relationship becomes decidedly…less convenient, to put it mildly.

Author Note: What exactly James and Jett separately do for a living, you may piece it together immediately, you may not understand until the end. It's not too important. Also, I can't promise that my knowledge of history is accurate, because I hate history. Minor research was done (I probably should've watched a spy movie at some point, sploops). This story is labeled Part for a reason; don't expect anything competent like regular updates.

This story was prompted by and is dedicated to joyousbrokenthing, because Jett is the only acceptable addition to her (our) precious Jagan.

Disclaimer: I don't claim jack-diddly, including the references to Tangled and other popular media. This story is loosely based off a movie I've never seen, This Means War.

Were they more mature and less volatile, dealing with one another's diverging affections could have gone more smoothly…

–

By the time Jett walked through the door to his condominium, the purpose he'd seen so clearly only minutes before was a muddled mess in his head.

What exactly was he doing administering a test on a man he'd only just met, and what did he expect to gain from it? He didn't know nearly enough about Logan, only that he was unnecessarily intelligent, had a penchant for sarcasm, had no taste in jewelry, and had a stupidly cute smile. The only other thing Jett could guess was the absence of a boyfriend; no way was someone like Logan involved and still flirting.

Was that enough reason for him to do something reckless?

Yes, Jett decided easily, and not just because he was tired of questioning morality already.

Maybe Logan specifically wasn't worth any risk, but that indistinct sensation Jett got when talking with Logan – no, not the confusion or the annoyance, but the pleasant thrum of excitement through his muscles and quickened pace of his heartbeat from only a few exchanged words – was worth the risk. It was exciting. It was refreshing. Being able to flirt with someone gave him an anticipation he hadn't felt since he'd settled with James.

After spending over a year somewhat tied down to someone he didn't like, someone so conceited and airheaded and shallow, and falling into a repetitive, though gratifying, pattern of romance, Logan was a welcome change.

Heavens, was James shallow.

But Jett didn't want to invest any time in chasing Logan only to find him disingenuous somewhere down the line. People with too many secrets were a hassle – this, he knew personally – and he didn't want hassle or complication, he wanted simple…which didn't really explain why he was chasing after someone who seemed to know too much, but that was a concern for later. Maybe after Logan proved to be a simple undertaking.

Before any sort of chase began, however, Jett needed to clear away other obstacles – tall, whiny, brunet obstacles. Jett was a lot of, mostly wonderful, things, but he wasn't a cheater. And, well, now he had the perfect reason to get rid of James.

When James finally strolled in, Jett was seated on the couch and had already rehearsed his speech to break up with James, complete with poignant facial expressions and dramatic pauses, almost as if he was a skilled actor. Something else he was excellent at! James' eyes widened in surprise at the sight of him, which was odd since Jett lived there, but Jett didn't really care about the emotions James found necessary to feel at random.

"We need to have words," Jett spoke solemnly, pointing to the seat next across from him.

James rolled his eyes, "Can't just say 'Let's talk' like a normal person?" but sat down in the indicated seat anyway, propping a leg up on his knee. Then, he moved with his elbows on his knees, and shifted into another position seconds later. He was restless, that much was obvious, but Jett didn't let it bother him.

He cleared his throat and looked off to the side on cue, gazing ruefully at a shade-less lamp. "Listen, James, this isn't easy for me to say, but…," he gave a concerned sigh, "…I've been thinking a lot about us – you and I – and all the good times we've shared together."

James appeared mildly confused, which Jett had planned for as well.

"You know, the great sex, staring at each other, working out together occasionally," he clarified.

"Ohh," James nodded.

"Right, and as extremely rewarding as all of that is, maybe there's more to a relationship than just sex. Not much more, mind you, but obviously something better than whatever it is we have now." Jett laid a consoling hand on James' knee. "Now, I know this sort of change might be difficult for you, but trust me, it's for the best when I say –,"

"I think we should see other people," James interjected easily, patting Jett's hand.

Jett paused, stupefied, mouth hung open and grip on James' knee growing tighter by the second, then he stood with a flourish. "Excuse me? You're breaking up with me? How – how could you? How dare you!" he scowled.

For his part, James looked confused and held up his hands in a placating manner. "Woah, I didn't think you'd care really care, man. You like me that much, eh?"

"I don't care about you," Jett scoffed. "You rudely interrupted the climax of my monologue just so you could say what I was going to say!" Not only that, but he'd just ruined Jett's perfect record of never having been dumped. At least one of them had the decency to break up with someone formally and artistically. "And just what in heaven's name are you breaking up with me for anyway? It's not like anyone else is going to put up with your nonsense."

James shrugged and leaned back in his seat. "I met someone I like, and I can't go after him if I'm all tied down to you. Well, at least I don't think he'd be into that…," James trailed off and tapped his index finger to his chin, a far off look in his eyes.

"Is he better looking than me?" Jett questioned with a voice full of disbelief, because with his face, that was pretty impossible.

Again, James shrugged, an action that was beginning to grate on Jett's nerve. "Don't care. He's awesome and knows stuff and he likes my eyes," he smiled serenely. "I bet he'll write a full page about them in his wedding vows to me."

That ditzy, romantic glint in James' eyes was shining brightly, and Jett screwed his face in disgust. "You just met him and already you're talking about marriage? I dodged a bullet," he muttered the last part to himself, not that James was paying attention. "Does he know about your 'job'?"

"No," James answered instantly, then stopped to think, something he never did. "I mean, I'm pretty sure he doesn't, but he is kinda magically smart. Like a wizard."

Jett shook his head dismissively, "Whatever, I don't care." It was no business of his if James ended up with a bullet through his head for poor secrecy. "If you plan on moving out, could you do so while I'm not home?"

"Nah, I'm staying. The other room works fine."

"Your choice," the corner of Jett's mouth tilted up and he pointed vaguely to the direction of the bedrooms. "You can start moving your things out of the master bedroom immediately. Your questionable fashion choices are taking up enough space in my closet."

"Woah, wait, what?" James jumped to his feet immediately. "I have to take the other room? Why do I have to move?"

Jett quirked an eyebrow, "Don't you know how a divorce? You just broke my heart and I'm horribly devastated," he brought the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically. "I think it's completely fair that someone with such a cold, callous heart such as yourself concede to what little I ask, in this, my time of emotional need. Don't you?"

"No!"

"Well, too bad," Jett shrugged mockingly. "Either you can move your stuff out now, or I can throw it out when I get back. Again, your choice."

"Get back? Where're you going?" James asked, suspicion in his voice.

"Let's say…gift shopping."

–

…but sometimes, trouble seemed to have a habit of following James and Jett around like a bad habit…

–

If found, please return to: Logan Mitchell

Address: 173 Shallowbrook Circuit, Apt. 209

Work: Edina Public Media Center

Thank you!

James had read and re-read over the plastic-encased information card attached to the ring of keys at least a hundred times since yesterday, even though he'd memorized every printed letter and number – and the font, Comic Sans – by the fiftieth read-over. Still, he couldn't help the anticipatory grin that spread across his face.

As soon as he'd stop waiting for any briefing calls sometime after noon – he didn't want any missions interrupting him while he put the moves on Logan – he'd driven over to the address with the keys safely in his pocket, attentive to every street name until he reached the average apartment complex, more than fifteen minutes away from his condominium.

Unfortunately, buzzing for Logan's room yielded James no response, and he'd pressed the buzzer an annoying amount of times, just to be sure. Nothing.

He'd been upset, mostly because he'd been hoping to be invited in and maybe get to make out a little as a reward, but was not deterred. Even if Logan wasn't at the library, James was willing to try again tomorrow, and maybe even the day after that, but that would probably be it. He still had his own life and all.

As luck would have it, when James entered the library, he saw the familiar shock of dark hair on someone behind the main desk. Though the interior of the building made gooseflesh spread down his arms, and not from the temperature, that easy, giddy grin spread across his face one more. He pulled down his t-shirt, making sure it was taut over his torso and biceps, then slid as smoothly as he could on carpet to the front desk, directly in front of Logan. "Why hello there, cutie."

Logan looked up from where pasting a thin paper sleeve into the back of a book and smiled a warm smile that would stick in James' mind as their "reunion moment smile", which was very important, and said, "Hello, sir, can I help you find something?"

That disappointing bit of formality dropped the grin on James face – how could Logan not recognize him? – until he remembered that he'd had a mask and helmet covering up two of his most important features, his smile and his perfect hair, when he'd met Logan, and then the grin was back.

This time, he would let it slide. "No, thanks, I already found what I'm looking for." He pointed his index finger at Logan and winked, "You."

"Oh, would you like me to check out your rental?" Logan reached over near the desktop computer and brandished a scanning gun. "Do you have your library card with you, or would you like to –,"

"What? No, I don't want any books," James grimaced. "I said I found you!"

A confused expression slowly fell on Logan's face. "So, you found me…because you need me to help you operate one of the computers? If you're not registered with us, there's a guest option available, but you'll only receive half the amount of time at the computer."

Maybe, James thought, he'd overestimated Logan's intelligence. He was starting to get frustrated now, tangible confidence replaced with a childish pout. How could Logan not remember his voice or his eyes? "I didn't come here to use any gross library junk, Logan! I came to find you!"

Logan looked down at himself briefly, mumbling what sounded like numbers under his breath and pointing from James' face to whatever was hanging around his neck, then back up to James with apprehension set in his frown. "You can't even see my badge behind the desk from your angle. How do you know my name?"

"We've met before. Recently," James smiled, waiting for the recognition to shine in Logan's eyes.

Instead, he received a deepened frown. "Wait a here a moment," he held up a halting finger. "I'm going to call security."

"Woah, wait wait wait!" James reached over the desk to grab Logan's arm, which, judging by the panicked look Logan gave, wasn't the best action, so he let go and held up his hands in a show of harmlessness. "Wait, okay? I promise you know me. Uhh, remember yesterday at the museum, the tall, muscular guy with the beautiful voice who saved you?" He framed his fingers around his eyes like binoculars, hoping to accentuate them. "Remember the eyes?"

"Oh!" Logan pointed emphatically. "It's you!"

James huffed. Better late than never. "Yes, me! James Diamond, the guy who totally saved your life, in the flesh." He extended a hand over the desk, and Logan shook it. James didn't pretend not to squeeze Logan's hand for extra warmth.

"Ha, I didn't think I'd even get to see you again. I didn't even get the chance to thank you or anything, so…thanks, guy who saved my life," Logan said with amusement, though James could tell he was sincere. "Wait, that doesn't explain how you know my name. I never told you."

"You kinda did, technically." James searched around in his pockets until he pulled out the ring of keys, jingling them teasingly. "It was on this."

"Hey, are those mine?" Logan exclaimed, grabbing the keys and checking over them. He exhaled with relief, "Thank god you had them. I thought that thug took them with him and was gonna escape from jail, break into my house and strangle me in my sleep for turning him in," he mimicked the violent action in the air.

"Don't worry," James started, very subtly flexing his biceps with a well-timed stretch. "I could totally handle him with these guns if that happens."

Logan held up his keys pointedly, "I don't have to worry now, so you can store your, uh, artillery away for later. One sec," he said before ducking out of sight to do something dubious behind his desk, then popping up just as chipper as before. "It's nice to formally meet you, James Diamond. You look a lot different without all the black armor and that nifty helmet."

"'Different' as in better?"

"Technically, yes. To be fair, though, I couldn't see any part of you besides your eyes."

Not good enough. "What if we're not speaking technically?"

Logan's eyes narrowed. "You're fishing for a compliment right now, aren't you?"

James nodded easily and leaned over the desk to poke Logan in the chest. "You should bite the hook."

He was trying not to laugh, James could tell, which made him smile widely. "Fine, James. Yes, you look tons better now without all the spy gear. It did make you look cooler when you took down those guys down, which I totally still owe you one for." Then, Logan's eyebrows knitted in thought. "By the way, what exactly is your job description?"

That question was easy enough to avoid. "Saving dudes in distress. Like you," he declared, delighted when Logan rolled his eyes. "I can think of a great way for you to repay me, if you're interested."

"Oh?" Logan looked apprehensive, especially when James added a suggestive tilt to his smile. "Spill."

"I was thinking you should let me take you‒ "

Before he could finish, a small, elderly woman with an unnecessary umbrella pushed into his space – into his groove – and set a weighty book on the counter. "Excuse me, young man. I'd like to return this book."

Logan gave the woman a polite smile, as if she hadn't just interrupted them, and opened the ratty book to the back cover. "I'd be happy to, ma'am. Do you have your library card with you?"

"Oh, I believe I just might…," she mumbled and started rummaging around in her gigantic, tattered handbag.

Clearing his throat, James prepared throw on a little extra charm. Older woman loved him, he'd get her to leave no problem. "Sorry, lady, but we," he gestured between himself and Logan, "were kinda in the middle of something, so if you could wait until we finish, that would be swell."

"Wait your turn, missy," the woman didn't even bother to look up from her bag, just waved him off with a bony hand.

James bristled at her tone. "I'm a guy," he corrected with a purposefully deep inflection.

"Uh, James…," he received a worried look from Logan, but there was nothing to worry about. No problem.

"And I was here first, so it's fair that you should wait your turn."

"I said beat it, young lady!" the woman gave him a withering stare from the corner of her eye.

He returned it fiercely, tolerance gone at that point. "Listen, you senile old hag, I'm a guy! And if you don't –,"

A frantically shouted "James!" stayed the threat half-spit on James' tongue, and he turned his fiery gaze on Logan to see a horrified glare directed at him, then looked down at his own finger pointed angrily at the old woman, who had a smug, wrinkly smile on her mug. Hag.

Slowly, trying not to set himself off, James lowered his arm, fixing his mouth into small, tight smile. "I'm…just going to…,"

"…sit at a table and wait patiently? Like an adult?" Logan suggested through his forced smile full of clenched teeth, worried look still on his face when he gestured to an empty table nearby.

"Yeah, that," James nodded, ignoring the old woman and trudging over to throw himself into an uncomfortable wooden chair, back turned to the main desk.

Geez, it wasn't like he was actually going to hit her or anything.

There were lingering stares from library patrons after the shouting match, but they eventually turned back to their work. James tried to occupy himself, tapping out a beat against the carpet with his foot, checking his mobile for messages, humming nameless tunes, but he had no way of dispelling his boredom or his impatience. He managed to occupy a total of three minutes before he listened in on the conversation between Logan and the hag.

"Ma'am, are you sure you rented this book from our library?"

"Why, yes, I'm sure of it."

"I only ask because this book doesn't have our stamp or are our card holder. And we've never had Bamboo Treasure Forest in stock. Ever."

"No no, that can't be right. I rented this book from this very library forty-three years ago. Yes, I remember it was a chilly day in August after Blissy and I had just gotten home from schooling, and…,"

"Ma'am, this library was only built two years ago."

That was going to take forever!

Feeling particularly petulant, James made a long, loud groaning noise, then checked back to see if he'd gained any reaction. Logan gave him a brief, stern Librarian Glare, which was more arousing than anything, before he returned attention to the old woman. That had been entertaining for almost five whole seconds.

James sighed and stood, dragging his feet along the carpet while he looked up and down the rows and columns of books, trying to find ancient fashion magazines or something similarly interesting. It was a little difficult since he had no clue how the books were ordered, and at no point did he plan on learning Dewey's twisted organization system.

Eventually, he came upon a row of brighter books, vibrant colors and broadly drawn letters down the spines catching his attention. He pulled out the first book that interested him, pursing his lips at the cover. It was most bare save for the curled letters of the title, a thin castle spire and a long length of what looked to be blonde hair flowing down from a window. A book about hair had to be a good read, right?

And when James retook his seat and opened the book, it did turn out to be pretty good. A little dull in the beginning, but having lively images along with the text made him smile and continue on. In fact, he saw a little of himself on the hero – a gallant male lead described with windswept brunet hair and a perfectly chiseled jaw, enough charm and suavity to get him out of any hairy situation, and a penchant for finding himself on the wrong side of the law. There were other descriptive words like narcissistic and foolhardy and helpless, but those didn't apply to James.

Even better, the heroine who, kind of, not really, ends up saved by the hero resembled Logan in personality. A little bit. Dozens of little oddities, a fondness for books, magical powers and spasmodic tendencies was a good fit. And and and! She ended up falling in love with hero! All Logan needed was a long head of blond hair and…girl parts. He didn't know much about Logan, but he would find out how accurate the rest was.

Especially the falling in love part.

He only thought of that later when he was finished with the book, too enthralled to put it down for a moment. He didn't know how much time had passed, but when he stood and whipped around, the old woman was gone, replaced by someone else – a male someone else – who was leaning on the desk like he owned it, and who Logan was directing a humoring smile at.

He bothered to turn his attention away from Logan for only a few moments and already someone was hitting on him? Not cool.

Not bothering to hide his jealousy, James stalked up to the front desk, catching Logan's worried gaze before he chirped out a falsely pleasant, "Hey Logan, who's your friend?" and pointedly glared at the stranger. Said stranger stood up straight and returned his glare with equal ferocity, emerald-green eyes hard and –

Oh, that was no stranger.

–

The previous day, Jett had gone on a field mission solo for the second time in his life.

The first time he'd tried, three or so years ago, it had not gone smoothly, and that was as nicely as he could put it. He'd been a fresh-faced rookie at the time, and an admittedly overconfident one – compared to the current him, who had the perfect amount of confidence. The item he'd been after, the item he'd failed to get, wasn't even something he'd really wanted! Sure, maybe he could've sold it to earn some nice pocket change, but other than that, what on Earth would he do with a dusty coronet? Wear it around town? No, he'd only wanted it for the notoriety, to send his organization some indistinct message of his prowess despite his only recent induction. What better way to do that than by stealing a coveted piece of crafted gold by his lonesome?

One poorly attached suspension cord, two broken display cases and three bullet wounds – two shallow, one imbedded in his calf – later, Jett had failed and had a team of well-armed security guards on his tail.

The second time was an improved experience, one that ended in triumph and an unwounded leg. He'd only had to take his prize after infiltrating the ranks of the slovenly airport security, which had been an easy task with their unflatteringly frumpy outfits and face-shielding uniform caps. Intercepting the package had been more difficult, what with the only variant in the packages stored on the plane being their sizes.

In the end of the escapade, the item that Jett needed was safely rolled up in his pocket while he strolled out of the airport leisurely, and it was all done solo.

…so, maybe he'd had a little help from behind the scenes, but his help was annoying and had a mop for hair, so he wasn't relevant. Without anything to prove to anyone but himself and a brazen detachment from regulation, there was no pressure, no distraction, and most of all, no failure.

The item was now stuffed into the pocket of his jeans and ready to reach its recipient. Jett pushed the doors of the library open with purpose, unperturbed by the stares his vigor received – these people had no lives of their own to lead, apparently. As promised, Logan was exactly where Jett expected him, behind the main desk and waving to an old krone shuffling away at a snail's pace.

When Jett glided to the front of the desk and settled on his elbows, Logan's attention was somewhere else, on something behind Jett, on something that wasn't Jett. Unacceptable! Jett fixed that with a quick snap of his fingers in front of Logan's face, bringing narrowed brown eyes to him.

"You're back?" was the unenthused greeting Jett received. Rude.

"Don't be so impolite," Jett chided with a lofty smile. "And here I thought we were on the fast track to becoming friends."

"Why are you back?"

Intent on being unfriendly, was he? "How about we start again, from the beginning?" Jett cleared his throat for show, ignoring the peculiar face Logan pulled. "Good evening, Logan. I hope the day has been treating you well so far."

"Hello, Jett," Logan played along. "My day has been just fine so far. Why are you here?"

Jett smirked, and perhaps there was a little bit of a smile there, somewhere. He'd made a good choice. "You'll change your tone when I tell you I brought something for you to see."

"Why?" Logan replied in exactly the same tone.

"Because you're the only young adult alive who gets an erection from historical effects."

Predictably, Logan perked up at mention of historical. "What is it?"

"Ah, so now you're interested?"

"If you're gonna make this a game, I've got someone else I could be talking –,"

Suitably amused, Jett waved a pacifying hand in Logan's direction. "Simmer down. I'll show you since you're so very eager."

The unveiling of the gift – a thin, lengthy strip of fine violet fabric with foreign script finely stitched in gleaming gold patterned vertically down its span and two elaborately crafted scroll rollers framing each end of the fabric in fading gold – was admittedly a less enthralling event than Jett had pictured when he unfurled it level against the wooden desk, but Logan was undeniably curious about it, and Jett was certain he was only just keeping himself from touching it.

"What is this?" Logan's fingers came close to touching the cloth, but retracted them immediately, biting his lip. It was almost killing him to have a piece of history so close and not be able to touch it, even if he knew nothing about it.

Jett rolled his eyes. "You can pick it up if you want, you know. It isn't going to tear easily."

The cloth was in Logan's hands before Jett could finish giving permission, being touched and stretched and held up to the light and examined up to the bridge of Logan's nose. It was a surprise when Logan didn't start sniffing at it. "What's it say?" he asked, holding the cloth out taut for Jett to see.

"How should I know? I don't read Persian."

"It's in Persian?"

Though Jett didn't feel like recounting what he'd learned, having someone interested in what he had to say was a nice boost to his ego, something he desperately needed. "Yes, it's a," pause, "a replica of the headband worn by the war general under the Shah of…some random empire of theirs. Possibly Old Persia. I don't care. It's not important. Point is, he killed hundreds of people while wearing and its history, so you should love it."

Even with the short, choppy retelling, Logan was still entranced. "So cool," he gave the headband a last once over before folding it neatly and holding it out over the desk. "Thanks for showing me."

"Keep it."

"Huh?"

"I said, keep it."

"Dude, are you kidding me? This might be an imitation, but it feels like something I can't afford." Logan rubbed his thumb pad over the fabric. "What is this made of?"

"Vicuña fur."

"See? I don't even know what that is!"

Jett chuckled and laid his hand over Logan's, feeling genuinely pleased under the condescending air he couldn't dispel. "Oh, Logan. Poor, simple Logan. You should be clueless more often. It's an adorable look on you. This is a gift specifically for you, and it'd be in poor taste of you not to accept."

Logan's face twisted into a familiar glower. He snatched his hand away, pleasantry between them replaced with benign animosity. Jett preferred it that way. More fun. "That's probably your version of a compliment, isn't it?"

"You're welcome."

"Thanks, but you're kind of a dick, you know that?" Logan snipped, but he couldn't contain the light in his eyes when he looked down at the headband.

Jett shrugged. "I've been told. I've also been told my face more than makes up for it."

"Kinda adds to it, if you ask me," the corner of Logan's lips tilted with humor.

"Are you saying I'm not handsome?"

"Hey, Logan, who's your friend?" was the answer he received. Just not from the person he wanted to hear from.

–

Jett was the man glaring back at him, until those green eyes of his widened in surprise, an expression James knew he was mimicking, because no way in Hell did Jett have a good reason to set foot inside a library – as far as James knew about his personal life and interests – nor did he have reason to be speaking with Logan. James' Logan.

James raised an accusing finger eye-level and growled, "What are you doing here?"

Overcoming his surprise and slipping on a familiar mask of disparaging indifference, Jett turned his nose up to James. "I could ask the very same of you, only I don't care enough to."

Curious, Logan's eyes shifted between the two of them, oblivious to the palpable tension. "You two know each other?"

James turned and spat out a heated, "No way!" at the same time that Jett said, "Absolutely not!"

Again, Logan's eyes shifted between them with, his disbelief apparent. "Okay, if you say so," he shrugged. That wasn't a very good sign. Disinterest was never a good sign. Jett was fucking things up for him!

Before he could voice his question again, Jett spoke tersely, quietly, "You. Me. Words," then stalked off into some random aisle of books, because obviously he couldn't say "Let's talk" like a normal human being. James was fully intent on ignoring the command, putting on a winning smile and for Logan, only to find that Logan was no longer paying attention to him, ticking away at something on the desk computer.

Okay, that was a little frustrating, and that frustration probably showed in the way his lips tightened and his eyes narrowed and he felt like stomping like a child, but that wasn't very suave and he didn't want Logan to see any of that, so he followed where Jett had disappeared between bookcases. If there was anything the other man was good at, it was being a receptacle for anger.

"I'm not sure how you managed to wander in here, seeing as you barely manage to read above primary school level," Jett started as soon as James was in view, gaze on a random column of books, "but I need you to get lost. I have business to conduct and I can't have you here mucking it up."

James ignored the taunt and the shooing motion Jett made with his hands. "Hey, your business involves talking to my future boyfriend, so I think it's my business too."

The corner of Jett's eye twitched. "Your future boyfriend?"

"Yeah, I think that's what I said."

"He's the one you were gushing about yesterday?"

"Yep."

"You're even more delusional than normal if you think Logan's interested in you," Jett scoffed.

"Of course he is. We already spent tons of time together. Tons," James bolstered the last word, smirking at the undeniably curious glare Jett sent him. "Let's just say that me and Logan looked around the museum – together – and we talked and learned a bunch about each other, and he totally owes me a huge favor."

"For what?

Too easy. "Something big I did for him. That's all you need to know."

Jett straightened, lips downturned. "Is that so?"

James hummed and nodded, adding, "And did I tell you he's in love with my eyes? Because he is. In love, I mean. With my eyes." He lifted a finger to his right eye, "These ones, right here."

"So then…the both of you are dating."

James' confidence faltered momentarily. "I – no, but we're going to after we finish this little chat, so can we hurry it up?"

"Well, as regretful as I am to inform you of this – and I'm not, by the way," as if James didn't already know that, "you should know that Logan won't be dating you. Ever. So you should stow those fairytale scenarios in your head away for another man."

There was a roiling in James' stomach when he asked, "What're you talking about?"

"I think I made myself plenty clear," Jett said and began sauntering out of the confining space of the aisle and into the free area near a wall of children's books, James following begrudgingly. "Logan. Won't. Be. Dating. You. Ever."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I know for a fact that he'll be far too involved with someone else to even remember your name."

James eyes narrowed, cautious of the smug, or smugger than usual, tone in Jett's voice. "Who?"

Jett smirked. "Me."

In that moment, James was caught somewhere in between laughing his head off at the ridiculousness of Jett's statement and punching Jett in the gut for wasting time that could've been spent wooing Logan. He settled on a derisive snort. "You're outta your mind."

"Rest assured, I'm completely sane."

"Right, so you suddenly want him now that I'm going after him?"

"Please, you must be joking. I'm willing to bet your taste in men is just as bad as your taste in everything else." Even James caught the misstep in words, but Jett continued on as though he'd landed the perfect insult. "Yesterday was when we had our very poignant and pivotal meeting, and I'm sure I decided to date him far before you did."

"Wait…he was the guy you were talking about too?"

"The very same," Jett nodded.

"And you think he'd pick you over me?" James asked with obvious doubt.

In a deliberate motion, Jett ran a hand over his perfectly styled hair. "Of course he would. He has functioning eyes, after all, and have you seen me? I'm way better looking than you."

James choked, "Uh, no, you're not."

"I think I am."

"I know you're not."

"See? This is exactly the delusion I was talking about." Jett raised a condescending finger to wag in James face. His fingernail was weirdly long. "How could he ever choose you when you're so obviously senseless?"

Their conversation had gone on for long enough, James decided, and he leaned forward into Jett's space with a deceptively saccharine smile on his lips. "You know, I don't know. I guess I should go…," he pressed his hand against Jett's chest and shoved forcefully, "…ask him."

Not a moment later, James was sprinting down the aisle toward the front desk in what he thought was a quick escape, but the body that collided against his back when he was only halfway through the aisle told him otherwise; he always forgot that Jett, whatever he did all day, was too physically well-practiced to be an easy opponent. He fell to the floor with a mostly muffled groan, and there was the distinctive feeling of an elbow being ground into his spine.

"And just where are you rushing off to so soon?"

James grunted, twisting his body in effort to throw Jett off. The weight rolled off him and Jett's feet appeared in front of him, stepping over his prone body. James reached for and grabbed one of Jett's ankles, wrenching and pulling him off balance until Jett had to grab for at a bookcase to keep from tumbling to the floor. Fortunately – for James, that was – Jett's fingers hooked on the top of book spines unable to sustain his weight and he tumbled anyway, sending books dropping down on the back of his head.

"Son of a –," was all James heard before he was jumping to his feet and dashing from the section, avoiding any hands grabbing for his legs.

Reaching the front desk yielded him no victory, however, because Logan wasn't there. Like, at all! James jumped on the desk to check if Logan was kneeling down doing librarian things, he craned his neck to peer inside the room behind the desk area, he looked around to see if Logan was helping someone with a computer, but he was nowhere to be seen. He wouldn't leave so suddenly, would he?

Jett was by his side seconds later, frazzled and irate, looking around in a quicker fashion than James had, exhaling audibly through his nostrils. James gave him a lazy shrug, positive that he was going to give up and leave, but Jett brushed past him instead, walking at a brisk pace toward the aisles opposite the section they'd come from. He was still searching for Logan!

"Shit." James doubled back to the section he'd just come from; he hadn't been checking for Logan the first time he'd rushed past, so there was like, a fifty percent Logan was on that side instead of the side Jett was checking, right? Or maybe less since one of the aisles was clear, but he didn't know how to subtract that.

Whatever. Math.

In the fifth aisle down was where James found Logan setting a few books into place from a pile in his arms, unaware of the disorder he was inadvertently causing – James may have scared a few people during his search, which meant Jett was probably twice as disruptive. "Logan!" James shouted with a bright grin, wincing when the volume startled Logan to the point of jumping and dropping the pile of books in his arms.

Logan looked down at the pile of books on the floor with wide eyes, then scowled at James – it was still hot. "Is this your first time in a library?" Logan hissed. James didn't answer. "You cannot make loud noises in here, James. People are trying to focus."

"I know, I know. Sorry," James apologized hurriedly and stooped down to heft the pile of books up into a messy stack in his arms, offering an appropriate smile. Logan wasn't dazzled by it, but he looked less annoyed, which was a good start.

Whereas James had expected Logan to take the books from his arms, Logan left them there and took only the book from the top, eyes flying around until he moved down the bookcases a few paces. James guessed that he was meant to follow, having become Logan's living book rack. "You're not going to be trouble, are you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Once the book was deposited into its rightful place, Logan took another book and continued moving, answering, "After dealing with that situation at the museum, I've got this goal of avoiding trouble at all costs. Not worth the stress at all, man. I know I can't completely cheat entropy, so to speak, but if I I've got a choice in it, I'm going to try like hell to stay away."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm no trouble at all," James sung in a light timbre. It was a lie, he knew that, but Logan didn't know it, and if James was careful enough, Logan wouldn't have to find out ever.

Logan gave him a critical eye. "Are you sure about that? Didn't you literally run into danger yesterday?"

"Hey, you were right behind me, remember?" James accused, following behind Logan while he lightened the pile more.

"That was…a necessity. To get out of danger faster."

"So wasn't, admit it. Everyone likes a little danger, right?"

Pursed lips were Logan's only answer. Probably a no.

James cleared his throat nervously, "Okay, well, I can show you that I'm not trouble. You know, outside of this place. Maybe this weekend, if you're free?"

A blushed lit up Logan's face on cue, his fingers gripping the book cover in his hand tightly. The Odyssey of Reds. "Do you mean a date? With me?"

Yes, he definitely wanted a date, but was he supposed to ask for one so quickly? It'd been so long since he'd had to ask, he'd kind of forgotten. James nodded, deciding to play it safe. "We can call it friendly outing instead! And in case you're thinkin' about saying no, remember that you totally owe me one for saving you, just saying."

"That so?" Logan chuckled, though James could hear the nervous quality in his laugh. Good sign. "Then I guess don't really have a choice, huh?"

"Nope!"

"Don't yell."

"Sorry."

Jett chose that very perfect moment to show his face at the end of the aisle, looking more harried than he had a few minutes ago, and definitely pissed off. He stalked up to them, up to Logan, and jabbed a finger in his direction. "You. I looked all over this accursed building for you! Where were you?"

Logan blinked. "Um, here? Working? Which reminds me, I need to get back to that." Another blush reddened Logan's face and there was hesitation in his eyes, then he blindly pulled a pen from the badge around his neck, sidling up to James and scribbling quick, neat numbers onto James bare arm. His back hid the action from Jett, but the grin James shot Jett over Logan's head was telling enough. "You have my number now, so don't come back here, 'kay?"

"Deal!" James agreed loudly. Logan's lips twitched and he took the remaining books from James' arms, giving Jett a quick wave before he left the two of them alone.

James raised a flirty wave to the empty space Logan had occupied, dreamy and light until Jett seized his arm, wrenching him out of his daze.

"This can't be happening." Jett's eyes scanned over the numbers several times before James yanked his arm free. "I don't believe it."

"You better, because I'm gonna be getting ready for my date – the one I have with Logan that you don't, in case you forgot – at our place tomorrow," James boasted, his smirk toothy and gleaming brightly.

There was a competitive glint in Jett when he lifted his chin and quipped, "Is that so?" and it really shouldn't have been there since there was no longer any competition since James had won, but it was probably nothing.

He ignored it. "You bet your ass. I'd ask for your help getting ready, but Logan obviously thinks I look better, so," he shrugs, backing out of the aisle with a taunting thumb-up.

Tomorrow was a good day.

––

Jett wasn't at home when James got in for the evening, nor did he stop in at any point during the night, or at least from what James could hear from his room. When he awoke the following morning and crawled out of his room, the door to Jett's room was open just the same as last night, not a thing in the room out of place.

That was strange, but it was too early for James' sleepy brain and rumbling stomach to make sense of it. The only explanation that came to mind was Jett finding a one-night stand to blow off steam, seeing as he'd suffered a crushing defeat and the hands of James' good looks and Logan sure wasn't going to be blowing anything off for him anytime soon. That explanation didn't account for Jett not showing at up at all, though, which put a confused crease in the middle of James forehead.

Until he realized that his curiosity could be misconstrued for caring and stopped thinking about it altogether.

Besides, he had a date-type thing today! Like, the real definition of a date, not a quick fuck followed closely by sleep; what had been his take on the word for the past year. They would talk, he and Logan, about everything and nothing and learn useless things about one another that James would remember years into their relationship, and they would hold hands, possibly, and stick unnecessarily close to each other like other obnoxious couples did, and blushes would be painted on their faces for the entire date – no, the entire day!

He wanted to burst from excitement, but he was a man, so he settled for humming soft tunes until an hour before noon rolled around. Then, he settled down on the couch and called Logan, whose number was still scrawled out on his arm in neat, blue script – he'd intentionally avoided scrubbing his arm during his shower.

The other end picked up after two rings. "Hello?"

James smiled, not that Logan could see it or anything. "Hello to you too, cutie."

There was a pause. "Excuse me? Who is this?"

"James!" Geez, what other guys did Logan have calling him cutie?

"Oh! Right, of course. What's up?"

"Just calling to make sure you didn't forget about our da–," oh, no wait. He wasn't supposed to call it that yet. "Our, uh, friendly outing thing!"

"Nah, I've been thinking about it since I got up." Another pause. "I hope that's less pathetic than it sounded."

"Don't worry about it. You are going out with Edina's most eligible bachelor, after all."

"Ha, and here I thought your friend was the cocky one."

The excitement dropped from James' face at the mention of his friend, glare aimed at the television set. The last person he wanted Logan to be thinking about was Jett. He was quick to change the subject. "So, I'm thinking you be ready in, like, two hours and I come pick you up?"

"Sure, sounds like a plan. I'll text you my address."

"I already know where it is," James blurted out before he realized how stalkerish it sounded. "I mean, it was on your keychain and I tried going to your place before going to the library, so I already know.."

"Chill, I know it's on my key ring." James breathed easier. "Should I wear anything special for this?"

"You'll find out when we get there." For the life of him, he couldn't find the directions he'd printed out the previous night, but they were useless anyway now that he'd memorized the interstate route.

"Really? You're gonna be that kind of…outing friend?" Logan deadpanned.

"Yep! Promise you'll enjoy it." Or, he hoped.

"Fine, but I might borrow my buddy's helmet for this, just in case."

James snorted, "And you think I'm the weird one?"

"You still are, James Diamond. See you later?"

"Bet on it," James replied, and the line went dead.

As James had always known about himself, he wasn't really the type to think ahead. Was that called again? Foresight? He was the type to live in the moment, consider the consequences after the fact, fly headfirst into a situation before he assessed anything. It was how he got where he was today, and so far, his impulsive nature hadn't failed him. Not badly.

He could count his current situation as one of those times not planning ahead failed him. Although he'd already showered and prepared for the day, he hadn't prepared for a date. He only had two hours and he didn't have the perfect outfit laid out or the perfect sneakers to coordinate with it, his hair was missing that perfect tousled look that simultaneously equipped him for anything from fancy dinners to fun between the sheets, and his face –

Who was he kidding?

The next two hours were filled with him making a mess of every room he skittered into. His room had clothes strewn around on the bed, on the floor, over the door and everywhere in between, because nothing was right or eye-catching or dazzling enough for him. He labeled that the "maybe pile". Jett's room was in a similar state, only outfit tops thrown out of the closet at rapid fire – his legs were too long for Jett's jeans to fit, and other than the intolerable amount of polo shirts Jett owned, his taste in clothes wasn't terrible.

By the time he stepped out of the bathroom after holing himself inside for the remaining forty minutes, there was a dense fog of hairspray and fresh-smelling cologne clouding the bathroom. He'd had to move quickly, but after some intense procedures with his blow dryer, half a can of hairspray his lucky comb, he'd finally gotten the effortless, fluid sweep to his shining brown fringes just right – the one that made people's fingers itch to run through his hair the longer they stared.

He checked himself in the full length mirror in his bedroom, straightening his jacket and flipping his hair to make sure it stayed styled, and he was done. And with only…

April 17, 1:56 PM

James' jaw dropped at his mobile's time display. He was late! On his way out, he snagged his keys and his wallet, unconcerned about the piece of paper he'd lost.

He was pretty good with directions, so they'd be fine.

–

…other times, they personally brought trouble along with them like a terrible gift…

–

Droning in ears, all Jett could hear was the deafening whir of spinning helicopter blades, even past the oversized headphones he'd been forced to wear. The bench inside the small, unmarked transportation helicopter was without cushion, uncomfortable, and he'd been riding inside with only the small window on the door and cockpit windshield for illumination for over ten minutes. He was bored out of his mind, his legs were starting to fall asleep, and the helicopter's pilot was absolutely insufferable.

"Hey, this is a really obvious area. Not a smart place to do this, if you ask me."

Jett sighed wearily, wondering if he'd made the right decision in pilot. Then again, what he was about to do was a huge waste of his organization's monetary support, and the half-concocted story he'd given – something about an anonymous mole who threatened to expose them all, someone who had only contacted Jett and who Jett was tasked with handling – wasn't concrete enough to sell without a partner who cared very little about how much trouble he got himself into.

That was Kendall's use. "It's a good thing I didn't ask you then, Kendall. How else am I going to send the message that we can exterminate this man at any time we so choose?"

Kendall craned his neck back to look at Jett from his cushioned chair, flipping stringy blond hair from his forehead and raising one of his obscenely prominent eyebrows. "I dunno, by sending him an actual message? Or by just getting rid of him?"

"Shut your mouth and fly."

"Chill, we're already here," Kendall smirked.

Not bothering to acknowledge him, Jett stood from his seat, shaking the tingling from his legs, and slid open the weighted door, squinting against the heavy wind. Close by, maybe a kilometer or so away, was a small rural highway, two roads separated by a divider and surrounded on both sides by healthy green grassland. A sign stood high over the road, broadcasting the interstate number in orange lights.

"This is the place, right?"

Jett nodded, certain without needing to look at the wadded sheet of paper in his pocket. He retreated into the helicopter momentarily, opening one of the compartments above the bench and pulling out his weapons of choice, along with its ammunition.

"You think an AT4 missile launcher is really necessary?" Kendall questioned when he came to stand next to Jett, helping him load the large weapon properly. "Is he driving a tank around or something? I thought you were just trying to scare him."

"I know what I'm doing," Jett lied easily – he'd never held a missile launcher before in his life – and checked his watch. Only two minutes until show time. "Move aside," he ordered as he moved into a crouch, hefting the heavy weapon over his shoulder and peering into the telescopic sight.

"You want to avoid trouble, do you, Logan?" Jett murmured to himself as a familiar car sped into view. "Then perhaps it's time you reevaluate your decision, hm?"

He aimed, and pulled the trigger.

–

…something Logan could, despite his optimism, never prepare for.