This is it. Hope you've all enjoyed it. Just wanted to reiterate how much I've enjoyed reading all your heartfelt reviews!

"Why did no one remind me how much I hate photoshoots?"

He fumbles clumsily with his necktie, long fingers getting tangled in the knots until it's off, flying across the dressing room. Carlos catches it, sharing a grin with James as he steps into Logan's space and hooks it around his neck, tugging him closer. "Because we love to see you squirm."

Logan tries to draw out the huffy annoyance kick as long as he can manage, but Carlos's eyes, warm on his, shave off a good few seconds until Logan can't help but grin, letting Carlos pull him the rest of the way until their mouths meet.

"I wasn't the one squirming last night," he mumbles against Carlos's lips, feeling them stretch into a smile.

"Maybe," Kendall purrs into his ear, suddenly pressed along the length of Logan's back (already naked; the fuck?), "that's because I had you pinned down so hard you couldn't move."

Logan totally doesn't shudder into both sets of arms, no way. Not still, after a whole year.

James snorts, toeing off black leather loafers with ritualistic enthusiasm and slipping back into his flip-flops. "You totally squirmed for me," he remarks with a casual ease that sends a shivery spark down Logan's spine.

Logan turns his head slowly, meeting James's smirk with one to match. "Maybe that's 'cause you're a fucking tease, Diamond."

James raises an eyebrow. "Didn't hear you complaining."

"Whatever, it's almost over," Carlos decides, pulling his t-shirt back over his head and addressing the room at large. "Ready?"

Murmurs of assent answer him as the last stray items of their own clothing find their way back to their bodies. Logan takes his time, carefully arranging his suit on the hanger. "You guys go ahead, I'll be out in a sec."

He keeps his back to the door as he hears it close, and suddenly the room's quiet, the others' voices echoing softly down the hall. Something's still blocking that feeling of complete isolation, though, and he's not quite sure what it is until Kendall's voice sounds softly behind him.

"You okay?"

Logan turns around, midway through buttoning up his shirt. "Hey. Yeah."

Kendall's distractions always tend to lead him back to Logan; maybe Logan's always been the distraction to begin with. He tries to focus on the buttons as he feels Kendall approach, knowing what's coming, and not sure if these are concerns he feels like putting into words just yet.

Kendall reaches up a hand to close over Logan's occupied fingers, waiting until he has Logan's gaze. "You sure?"

He shrugs. "I miss our girl."

Kendall's face instantly softens into that low, simmering glow reserved for those moments he's thinking about Ginger, and he sighs. "Me too. But god, just think, after tour we get her for three whole months."

"Yeah... I know."

And they've been without her before; it's not just that. Logan knows, and he knows Kendall knows, but.

Kendall rubs his thumb lightly over Logan's hip. "Is it just about her?"

Logan shrugs. "I just. We haven't done this in a long time."

"You afraid you forgot how to bullshit?"

It pulls a little smile from Logan's lips, at least. "I guess I'm scared they're gonna ask things I don't want to answer... or, like, that I'll answer wrong, and fuck everything up."

Kendall smiles back. "It's okay. We'll save you from your socially awkward self."

"You always do," Logan replies dryly, but his smirk is still thriving as he bats Kendall's hand away to finish his buttons, finally stopping and heaving a sigh when he realizes he'd begun one button off and has to start over. "Oh, just, fuck me. God damn it."

"Later," Kendall whispers.

Their eyes lock as Kendall's hands come up to Logan's shirt, plucking open the buttons himself with that slow, deliberate way that lets Logan feel every pop as each one pushes through the little slit in the material. Logan can already feel his own breath start to lose depth, running ragged, and god, this is so not the time for this, but Kendall's working his fuck-me stare that Logan tends to go jelly-kneed for, fucking bastard, so it's not much of a surprise when their mouths finally crash.

Kendall's shoving Logan's shirt over his shoulders even before their tongues meet, and Logan absently hears the material flutter to the floor. Kendall pushes his hips into Logan's until he's pinned up against the make-up table, the impact sending a jolt straight to his dick because maybejustmaybe he loves it when Kendall's rough with him, and flashbacks of where that can lead flood his mind, making it impossible to hold himself up but he really doesn't have to anymore. Kendall's got one arm firmly around his back, fingers curling into a grip at his shoulder, holding him up, the other hand cupping Logan's ass until Logan's head drops back, giving Kendall access to his neck, an access that Kendall never fails to take advantage of until Logan's sporting messy little trails of purplish red splotches that have necessitated more turtlenecks over the past year than Logan would ever care to own, but it's worth it a thousand times over.

"Hey, are you guys - "

The whoosh of the door swinging open and James's voice shatter their spell and they release one another on impulse before they register James, who's now smirking and shaking his head.

"They're waiting, you pervs."

"I've been waiting all morning, I'm fucking horny!" Kendall whines.

"And I'm not? They practically had Carlos on my lap the entire photoshoot," James counters. "Get your asses out here."

He gives them a gentle wink and shuts the door, leaving them to contend with their tousled hair and Logan's blatant lack of shirt.

Kendall smiles, crooked and sheepish, rubbing at the back of his neck. "You ready?"

Logan tugs him forward by his belt loops, placing one last kiss on Kendall's already swollen lips. "Bring it."

"All right, now you're probably gonna get asked this in every interview for the next six months, but since this is your first major one since your return, I'm totally allowed."

The boys smile at each other, easily sprawled across the squishy couch. Maybe Rolling Stone actually got it right; she's nice, genuine; not fake or fangirly, and the place doesn't give Logan that sense of sterile claustrophobia like most interview spaces, too reminiscent of hospital rooms. It's open and airy with big windows overlooking the city, sun streaming in, sprawling over plants in the corners. Maybe Gustavo put in a call.

"Fair enough," James tells her. "Shoot."

"Okay. So what is the 'four-sided circle'? It's kind of an incongruous image."

A few chuckles circle across the couch; it was well enough expected, but Logan takes a deep breath nonetheless because he knows this one's for him.

"Um," he starts, leaning forward a little, one hand coming up automatically to rub over his face, scratch absently at the back of his head. They're squashed together enough that he can feel James's hand rubbing soft circles into the small of his back and he knows the girl can't see it, and it settles his nerves just enough without being distracting. "I think, y'know, it could really refer to a number of things, the circle representing a sort of cyclic security, or unity, and the four sides are the four levels of security that keep it alive and strong. It has a lot of different contexts. I think the primary one would be that... y'know, it's about how we've evolved as a band, y'know, as a unit, like how we all got a lot closer on the island, how none of us could really survive without the other three, how we're all kind of integral to each other, both as a band and... and... y'know..." He risks a glance over at Kendall, unable not to match Kendall's tiny, secret smile. "...and personally."

Logan could write about this forever.

Only, he usually can't, because when he gets really wrapped up in it, feeling the red heat creep over his cheeks as the words spill from his mind onto the page, with three other people in the house it's usually only an hour or two before someone's crawling up behind him, impatient, kissing his neck and whispering for him to come to bed. His stomach flip-flops and his knees get wobbly and it's the first time in his life, much to the irritated surprise of past girlfriends, that the lure of sex has been able to tear him away from his writing.

He's starting to realize it's maybe because writing, among the many purposes it serves him, was always something he needed to feel whole; was always his outlet, his completion.

He's found a better one.

Now, instead of writing to feel whole, he writes about being whole.

And sometimes it's old-school, deep, metaphorical and far-fetched and convoluted and even angsty in ways only Gustavo would understand.

Sometimes it's not.

It's not that the edge is gone, so much as redirected. The edge is right where Logan wants it. The journalists can sit across from him with their digital recorders and notepads and raised eyebrows and ask him what the line "hold me down and fill me up" means, and Logan can launch into snarky, sarcastic diatribes about societal pressure and the detrimental influence of media propaganda, while Kendall has to sit beside him biting a permanent indentation into his tongue to keep from laughing because he knows the line's about his dick.

The fans have figured it out.

But their theories and confidence are humble and self-doubting, because they were wrong for so long.

James looks up from his laptop, grinning as he reads aloud the headline.

"Inspiration in Isolation: BTR's New Lyrics Explore Epiphanies about Modern Society from a Year Outside It."

Too eager to laugh, Kendall snorts a spew of Red Bull through his nose and Carlos says, "Hey baby, want to go have an epiphany?"

Logan burrows into James's shoulder, silent laughter shaking his frame.

Speaking of epiphanies.

It's amazing, the things you notice when you finally let yourself.

What feels strange is how much everything makes sense as four, like it's been happening all along and they were asleep for it; but it's the pairs that feel newest, like secrets that have finally burst, and it's exhilarating, the balance that evolves: what they can't share with one they can share with another, each one fulfilling a different part of them until there's no part of themselves left that feels incomplete.

Kendall and James are children, children who are in their twenties and can fuck hard enough to break the headboard (twice, thank you, "Do they fucking make titanium frames? Because you're buying the next one."). But the way Logan writes about them is so much like fairytales and nursery rhymes, scattered with innocence and wide, youthful smiles, that people have started to ask if they're resurrecting scrapped songs.

It's a riot because James has expertly practiced stamina and Kendall thinks stamina's overrated. He can force it, if he needs to, but he'd rather the quick fix, rough and dirty, and while James loves to tease, Kendall simultaneously craves it and can't survive it. But James is not cruel, and he makes it worth it in the end, adding little rewards like a point system depending on how well Kendall behaves, and there's laughter, always laughter coming from whatever sun-drenched room they happen to find themselves in, because they're at their best during the day. Lazy, late-afternoon sun bouncing off pale flesh and taut muscles, reflected in sparkling eyes. They're the most comfortable in their skin of the four of them, and they want to see. The better they can see, the easier it is to tickle, to wrestle one another for power until they're laughing too hard to maintain the struggle.

It'll stop, then, when Kendall ghosts his breath over the back of James's neck, or when James will slide his finger over a nipple until Kendall whimpers, and laughter dissolves to stuttered breaths and slack jaws. Kendall's loud as fuck and James is silent, content to listen, never once tells him to calm down, slow down, quiet down, only encouraging Kendall to be as Kendall as possible. And the effect is like therapy. Kendall's family tells him they've never seen him so composed, so in control of himself, clearly his experiences overseas have matured him.

He bites his lip and looks across his family's dinner table at James, who's smiling at his napkin, and thinks, I love you too.

James never, ever fucks him without telling him he loves him.

Sometimes Kendall can say it back and sometimes he can only smile, brilliant and big and squinty-eyed to blink out the sun.

James almost prefers the smile.

As for him and Carlos, well... their secret maybe hasn't entirely burst.

Logan tells them constantly that they look like six-year-old girls playing telephone (in retaliation, Carlos throws things at him, such as Kendall), the way they're always huddled together, grinning nonstop, playing with their entwined fingers, moony-eyed and whispering nonsense into each other's ears, or what might look like nonsense to anyone else. It's clearly not, if the frequent rise of color in Carlos's cheeks is any indication, and after awhile they'll wordlessly rise from the sofa (utterly tuned out to Logan and Kendall's - okay, Logan's - protests that they're in the middle of movie night, and hello, subtitles aren't just going to read themselves), hand in hand and disappear into the nearest room with a soft horizontal surface.

They're quiet but not silent, just enough to tease the ears of the other two, and Logan would think it's intentional if he didn't know how utterly wrapped up they can get in each other, to the point that he's fairly sure if the fire alarm went off, it's entirely likely James and Carlos would be burnt to a crisp in their ridiculous bed of bliss.

Who knew James was such a fucking romantic.

Logan finds out for himself, soon enough.

They can kiss for hours, seriously, and never move an inch below the waist.

It's kind of amazing, because most of the girls Logan had been with were fine with a few minutes of foreplay and then business as usual, and he and Carlos had always been too young not to let kissing lead elsewhere, but James... James kisses him like they have all the time in the world; like he doesn't want anything back. Like it can be something other than sexual. He kisses like it's an act of worship, of showing his respect, and Logan can recognize it as such, after all the closeness they'd built from writing together.

The magic is that it makes it all the more intense when it does lead elsewhere because they're not expecting it - and neither are Kendall or Carlos, gawking open-mouthed as it usually happens in front of them, a subtle slide into spontaneity - and suddenly they'll find themselves naked, tangled together on the sofa with one of them inside the other, already teetering on the edge with no idea how they got there.

Kendall and Carlos, as KendallandCarlos, are far above this romantic bullshit.

It becomes pretty clear where they're headed right from the start, and neither Logan nor James is surprised the first time they come home and find Kendall handcuffed to the bed, Carlos straddling him, one of Logan's scarves in hand as he proceeds to secure it across Kendall's eyes. There's about a bucket of lube surrounding them, a pair of women's underwear, a few intimidating items Logan remembers seeing on display at Starship, and a devious smile stretched across Kendall's face.

Carlos pleads innocence.

(Kendall tells him it would be a good character to play against Kendall's coldhearted slavemaster. Carlos whimpers, and that's that.)

It's those moments alone with him that Carlos feels most comfortable, most compelled to experiment, to rightfully earn their reputation as kinkiest motherfuckers in the house (a title no one dares try to usurp), because he knows there isn't anything Kendall wouldn't do, isn't anything he'd say no to or wouldn't be willing to try, to let Carlos try, and it makes Carlos feel wild and out of control - things he'd never let himself feel since... ever. Growing up with Logan and his brothers, he'd slipped naturally into the role of responsibility, keeping himself rational and strong for their sakes, and this is the first time he's ever allowed himself to let go of that, to put himself in someone else's hands, to indulge in recklessness, take what he wants when he wants and let them strip him of his control in return.

Kendall voices his approval of this plan through unabashed moans and screams that, once, cause the neighbors to call 911.

To Carlos's ears, it's like music.

And it's so them, too, that the first time Kendall says "I love you" to him like that, it's when he's in the doorway to the bathroom, watching Logan crawl on top of James in the tub, oblivious to Kendall's presence and lost in each other's mouths as their bodies move against one another through the sea of bubbles.

Carlos comes up behind him without warning, touches a single hand lightly to Kendall's hip, and whispers, "Let the girls have their bubble bath. I want to see if I can fit my whole hand inside you, how's that sound?"

Kendall gasps, falls back against the wall just outside the bathroom, and the three words slip out, out of place but no less sincere.

Carlos laughs breathlessly, returns the words with a twinkle in his eye that spells more than mischief, and gently pulls Kendall to the bedroom.

And the physical intensity is exactly the contrast Carlos needs from the emotional intensity he has with Logan. He and Logan are perhaps the most striking to simply watch, to the point that despite implicit permission to participate, or even just touch one another, sometimes watching is all Kendall and James can do - and James takes advantage of it, sneaking his camera in when inspiration strikes.

Logan and Carlos will spend all their time pressed together at every inch, each of Logan's sharp angles fitting seamlessly against Carlos's curves. They always seem to start out naked somehow, clothes never entering the picture, their bodies simply moving together like water, pressing close like they're trying to disappear into each other, become part of each other. Just endless touches and no words - not that they've ever needed words, but what's mesmerizing is how in these moments, even their eyes are no longer needed. Their eyes rest, always shut, and it's their bodies that speak for them now.

The others never quite seem to know what they're saying, but they climax together every time and more often than not, they're calling for James and Kendall before it's over, like they need them to finish.

"We do," Logan tells Kendall when he voices this theory, his hand stretching out to trace across Kendall's face, a lazy, blissful smile stealing over him. Kendall returns it tenfold.

Logan and Kendall stand out in stark relief, only in that there's no rhyme or reason to them.

They don't have patterns, they don't have unspoken rituals or specifics of interaction beyond the way they look at each other (naked, open and gorgeous, all walls destroyed): their only predictability is their unpredictability - like they're being constantly struck with the awareness that they're together, that they can indulge every impulse, every desire, everything they've repressed for so long they'd started to forget it was there, swimming under the surface, now a constant reminder that they have six years to make up.

But reckless impulsiveness is only one sparkling side of their sexual prism, and more often than not they'd prefer to be in bed, in the dark, gentle and slow, moving together like they're each other's gravity, like they'd just fall off the face of the earth without this, eyes always locked and whispers low, hushed and secret, words that only make sense to each other.

Still, impulse has its merits.

It feels random to the other two, causing more than one spit take or toppled beer bottle, to find Logan and Kendall sitting calmly on the sofa together, barely touching, and all of a sudden their eyes will meet, then their mouths, and then Logan's three hundred dollar Italian designer shirt is being ripped off and he's not complaining. It's like they forget they can do this now, and the simple rush of remembering is almost as intense as their response to it.

...Almost.

If you ask James and Carlos (Logan and Kendall were a little too involved to have an opinion - forest, trees, whatnot), there's very little that could top Lord of the Rings night, the scent of popcorn heavy in the air as Kendall pops his head into the living room and asks, "Anyone want another beer?"

James and Carlos each hold up a bottle to indicate satisfactory status, but Logan sits straight up in his seat, eyes fixed to Kendall with a very specific hunger.

Kendall recognizes it instantly, eyes going wide as Logan crosses the room. He gulps like he can't quite believe, now?!, but he wisely sets his own bottle down on the counter a split second before Logan reaches him, his hands hooking under Kendall's t-shirt and yanking it forcefully over his head before crashing their mouths.

Kendall stumbles straight back into the wall, picture frames rattling near his head as Logan presses forward into the kiss, all teeth and tongue, already yanking down the zipper on Kendall's fly, shoving the jeans down his legs and off over his ankles, Kendall nearly toppling over in the process. Kendall catches on quick enough, peeling Logan's shirt over his head when he straightens back up and making quick work of his pants. He whispers something into Logan's ear, low and frantic, and Logan growls impatiently as he bends down to the floor, fishing around in the pockets of Kendall's jeans until he produces the tiny bottle, fast unscrewing the cap and coating it messily over his fingers, more than a few drops spilling onto his Persian rug and oh my god, he so doesn't care.

"Don't - don't have to," Kendall tells him, voice wrecked from arousal as he closes his hand over Logan's and guides it to Logan's erection, pumping their hands together to slick him up, and only then does Logan falter, bracing himself against a wall as he pants harsh against Kendall's shoulder. "Come on, need you."

Logan gasps, lining up and pushing in fast, hard, just over the too-much side of rough the way Kendall loves, kissing him hard before Kendall can make any noise - not that he has to worry, because Kendall's always quiet with him, trembling through his own silences like he's just trying to convince himself this is real.

It's awkward in that gorgeous, desperate way until Logan gets his hands around Kendall's ass and tugs, and up Kendall goes, legs around Logan's waist as Logan fucks him into the living room wall, with the overpowering smell of half-burnt popcorn and Howard Shore's theme vague in their ears, the dull thud of their rhythm a jarring contrast to the melody. Kendall's totally going to have wall burn tomorrow, if that's even a thing, but there isn't much to complain about when he feels Logan shoot off inside him, liquid heat filling his insides until he can barely breathe, spilling helplessly between their bodies without a single hand on his dick.

James blinks at the pair of them, his hand inching blindly across the couch as he whispers, "Litos?"

Carlos shudders as James reaches the button on his fly. "Yeah?"

James sighs, working his fingers past the denim. "I love life."

"So, Kendall. Let's face it. The rumors about you and Logan are stronger than ever. The picture of you two holding hands outside Starbucks has practically gone viral online. Care to elaborate?"

Kendall smiles down at his knees, blushing modestly as he feels Logan squeeze his hand, the gesture hidden to the interviewer in the tangle of bodies on the couch.

He meets her eyes and grins. "I just don't think people have the whole story, that's all."

Two days after their reunion, Carlos announces that James is taking him on a date and not to wait up. This is clearly code that Kendall and Logan had better consummate themselves before the night is up, or else. Kendall knows this because James whispered in his ear before they'd left, "You'd better consummate yourselves before the night is up, or else."

Kendall shoves him out in a raging blush and closes the door forcefully behind his and Carlos's giggles ("'Consummate', James, seriously?!"), turning back to Logan and the big empty house and feeling like the parent on prom night. Sort of. Or more like, the kids who just kicked out their parents on prom night instead. Because that happens.

Logan quirks a corner of his mouth, his lips still pink and puffy from the shower's wet heat, as he takes a few steps forward, nearing Kendall. "Should I fear for my virtue?"

Kendall raises an eyebrow, inwardly chastising the growing tightness in his pants. He's never much been able to resist Logan under any circumstances, but Logan being coy might actually kill him. And that would put a serious damper on the whole... consummation thing (for fuck's sake, James).

He crosses the last few feet of the hardwood foyer floor, closing in on Logan's space until their hips are brushing, fingers skating up arms and tickling necks, collarbones - light little touches designed to tease, to coax out shivers and goosebumps and sharp, shallow breaths.

Kendall licks his lips without thinking, whispers, "I think maybe you should," and Logan ducks his head to meet his mouth.

Their clothes leave a messy, unmistakable path on the steps as they stumble up to the bedroom ("I'm not carrying you or your virture, get your ass upstairs"), and it's a little too easy to fall to the bed, to let their bodies effortlessly find all the spots they fit into together, that Kendall almost forgets they haven't done this, officially.

"You're shaking," Logan whispers, hands running comfortingly up and down the Kendall's arms as Kendall holds himself above Logan, just hovering enough that he doesn't squash him, their hips circling gently against one another.

Kendall smiles into his lips. "Hush, Mitchell."

"You're shaking," Logan protests, unable to hide the slight whine in his voice as he sits up, cradling Kendall's face in his hands. "What's wrong?"

Kendall's still smiling, but it's more nerves than anything else, and his eyes aren't on Logan's when he shrugs dismissively. "Long time, waiting," he whispers simply, his voice shaking a bit.

"I know."

"I think I... god, it's so stupid, somewhere in my head I still feel like you're gonna disappear and I'm gonna wake up."

"Baby, I'm not."

"I know, I know. It's not... rational. I just."

"Okay. Okay," Logan soothes, lightly stroking Kendall's face, tracing across his cheekbone, over warm lips. "Then don't let me go. Don't let me disappear."

Kendall blinks. "I..."

In answer, Logan slowly lies back down, spreading himself out in pale relief against the dark navy sheets, lifting his arms over his head and crossing them at the wrist, eyes blown as they stare into Kendall's, waiting.

He whispers, "Don't let go," and the invitation is palpable.

Kendall has just enough presence of mind left to dig around the bedside table for what he needs before lowering himself down over the length of Logan's body, kissing him until they're both breathless and hard against each other, long past ready, but he doesn't push in until Logan whispers his name, a promise and permission and plea all at once.

Logan says, "Slow?" and Kendall knows it's not a request for gentle, for the sake of easing any discomfort, but instead to let Kendall breathe, to calm him, so that it doesn't pass them by in a rushed, frantic blur that fuels any more of his fears. And it works, somehow: Kendall fucks him slow, every tiny spark of sensation heightened, drawn out, one hand bracing his weight and the other closed firmly around Logan's wrists, holding him down, holding him there, and as promised, Logan doesn't disappear, just tips right over the edge with him and emerges intact on the other side, their eyes still locked - and if they did disappear for a moment, they did it together.

Logan pulls him down, sweat-damp foreheads touching, slick against each other as their chests still heave through the aftershocks. He whispers, "I love you."

Kendall tries to speak, but all that comes out is a smile.

He knows now, this is not that dream.

This is so, so much better.

"So, Logan. It must've been pretty shellshocking to come home and suddenly discover you have a child. How has fatherhood changed your life?"

Logan considers it for a moment, but even as the words begin to form, the beaming, explosive grin taking over his face is answer enough.

"This one, wait, this one!"

"Kendall, we have like, six of that outfit already," he points out, gesturing to the purple Babies-R-Us cart, nearly overflowing after a mere eighteen minutes in the store.

"Not in pink." Kendall works his lips into a full pout, shoving the little footie pajama at Logan's chest, and James stands his ground beside Kendall, looking hopeful.

"She doesn't need pink," Logan huffs haughtily, his eyes sparkling as Ginger reaches out to curl her tiny fist around his index finger. "I don't want our daughter to be subjected to the confines of gender stereotyping."

"But it has kittens on it," James coos.

"Let her decide," Carlos declares, bouncing Ginger on his hip. "Gentlemen, state your cases."

Logan holds up his tasteful sage green ensemble, while Kendall and James display their choice between them, wiggling the material enticingly.

"Bah," Ginger says, reaching for the pink.

"You wound me, muffin," Logan sighs, leaning over to plant a kiss on her nose.

"Look on the bright side," Carlos offers, his eyes twinkling deviously as they meet Logan's. "Your closet's still girlier than hers'll ever be."

Logan looks up slowly from where he's curled on the sofa with his copy of What To Expect The First Year, Carlos's head in his lap and Ginger curled up against Carlos's tummy, both of them fast asleep.

His eyes widen. "What did you do?"

James carefully sets down his four Build-a-Bear boxes with a sheepish grin, but Kendall holds up his own five and a bodybag-sized sack of bear clothing and accessories, parental pride radiating from his eyes. "We couldn't decide!"

"So you bought her the entire store?"

"Yes!"

But there's little he can protest to when James and Kendall both start popping open their boxes, pulling out bears, cats, dogs, dinosaurs, and bunnies. The dogs look up with varying degrees of interest from their nap spots on the floor as Kendall and James start squashing the stuffed animals' fat little arms into clothes and arranging them on the sofa, tucked against Logan, Carlos, and Ginger, before settling down themselves, surrounding the three of them like a cocoon.

"Admit it," James whispers into Logan's ear as Logan tugs him closer, letting James burrow into his side. "You love it."

"I love you," Logan whispers, and that's good enough.

Logan gets the feeling he's neither wanted nor needed in Carlos and James's kitchen, possibly because they've put up printer-paper signs with "Carlos and James's kitchen - keep out" written in Sharpie and taped the signs to the fridge and the doorway leading in from the hall. But it's his birthday dinner (two weeks early because the tour's starting, Jesus, the tour, they're touring again, and Logan still can't stop smiling), and whatever they're cooking smells orgasmic, so he's more than willing to leave them to it.

It's not until he's halfway up the stairs, when the soft notes begin trailing to his ears, that he's actually grateful to have been banned from his own kitchen.

He rounds the corner at the top of the stairs, steps slowly toward the nursery, carefully avoiding the square of floor at the top of the steps that creaks at the slightest provocation, and finds himself halting in the doorway, too lost in melting into the fucking floor to move forward.

The low, rainbow splash of light from Ginger's multi-colored balloon lamp by her crib is shadowing them both in a soft glow - or that could just be Kendall's eyes, shining as he stares down at the tiny figure he's rocking gently in his arms, smiling through the words as they leave his lips.

"You'll never know, dear," he sings gently, "how much I love you... please don't take my sunshine away."

Ginger's well enough asleep by the time he finishes the first verse, but before he can begin the second, his eyes trail absently upward, suddenly jerking toward the doorway as he catches sight of Logan. His smile widens, and he leans down to place a soft kiss against the her little pink forehead before setting her carefully down in the crib, tugging her blanket up and securing it around her shoulders.

Logan's by his side when Kendall finishes, straightening up, and when Kendall opens his mouth to say something as he inevitably will, Logan closes the space between them and catches his lips, their arms looping loosely around each other's waists.

When they separate, Kendall's still smiling. "Shameless. Carrying on like that in front of our daughter."

Logan smiles back. "She'll always know how much I love you."

"Yeah? How much would that be?"

Logan leans in, pulling Kendall in close as if they were to start dancing, their position mirroring one they'd settled into once before, what feels like a thousand years ago, in front of a waterfall somewhere across the universe. Their cheeks brush, eyelids fluttering against the skin, and Logan lets his lips hover at Kendall's ear when he whispers, "You'll never know, dear."

"James, I hear you're living in Los Angeles. What made you decide to make the move back to California?"

James stares around at each of his boys in turn, soaking up their proud, brilliant smiles, before he grins, turning to lock sparkling eyes with the interviewer's. "I wanted to be closer to my family."

"Jesus, fuck, James."

"Not yet," Carlos's low, controlled voice breaks through the gasps. "Don't give it to him yet."

Kendall's watching, entranced, mouth hanging open, his hand working steadily on Carlos's length, because if he didn't have something to occupy himself, everyone knows he'd be lunging forward and doing it himself, giving Logan what he wants.

James pulls off Logan's dick with a wet pop, setting dark eyes on Carlos to wait for his cue, one slick index finger circling teasingly at Logan's entrance. Logan's nothing short of writhing beneath him, his own eyes glaring into Carlos's as Carlos smiles sweetly, reaching out to trace a hand gently over the sharp, tense line of Logan's jaw - and only Carlos would be able to get away with this, having earned a decade and a half's worth of best friend privileges, of allowance to taunt to the point of merciless.

"Wipe that smirk off your face," Logan growls, desperate, but there's no real venom beneath the tone, "or else I'm gonna fuck all of you till you can't walk, and then I'm gonna do it again."

Kendall whimpers, his cock offering an approving twitch beneath Carlos's fingers. It's not an empty threat, either; Logan's done it.

There's a taut moment of suspension, all movements halted, before Logan squirms one last time and begs, "Los."

Carlos flashes his eyes to James's, a corner of his lips curling up. "Now."

"So you've been back just over a year now, working on the album, which comes out on the eighteenth, and the tour starts a week after that. What do you guys plan on doing with your last few weeks of freedom?"

Carlos smiles at the other three, shrugging casually. "Oh, nothing too exciting... hang out... spend a little time on the beach... y'know."

Memories are not something much pondered unless we're missing them or losing them.

...Or, maybe too, if we're making them.

Kendall lifts his head from James's lap as the crackling voice breaks through the airplane intercom.

"Well, ladies and... ladies, it's a beautiful sunny day out here in the middle of nowhere. Coming up on your right we've got... nothing! And over here on your left, you'll notice a vast expanse of classic nothing, dating back to the sixteenth century."

Logan and Carlos share a grin, and Kendall smiles up at James. "When Gustavo said he knew the pilot... did that secretly mean he is the pilot?"

James chuckles, reaching out to brush a fringe of hair from Kendall's face, and Logan smiles from where he's nestled back against Carlos's chest across the seats opposite Kendall and James, Logan's shirt still wrinkled and hair sticking up in eight directions from his and Kendall's (successful, thank you) attempt at a Mile High Club membership half an hour ago.

"We're descending to about ten thousand feet, guys," the pilot announces, fuzzy voice filling the sun-drenched cabin. "In a few minutes you'll be able to see it."

Kendall's vaguely aware of one knee bouncing up and down compulsively, but James doesn't seem to mind. He just hands Kendall his cell phone with a grin and shows him the text displayed across the lighted screen.

1 message from gustavo r.

u sure u want 2 do this its not to late i can tell him to bring u home pls dont die b4 the new tour, love you dogs. ps- kid misses ginger he keeps going "WHERE GEE?" its so cute. dont die ok

Kendall barks a laugh and clicks out of the message, idly pulling up James's collection of cell pics and scrolling through. His wallpaper's still Kendall's favourite: the four of them curled up on the bed, asleep, with Ginger in the middle and both Cat Dylan and Dog Dylan (now answering to Dylan-C and Dylan-D, despite Logan's protests that it made them sound like chemical compounds) nestled at her feet, a shot snapped by Carlos's mom one painstaking afternoon after she'd taught the boys how to baby-proof Logan's ridiculous house.

"Hey. Guys."

Kendall closes the phone at the sound of Carlos's voice, looks up just in time to see the jerk of his head toward one of the oval airplane windows. Kendall pulls himself up off James and peers out, his eyes squinting at a speck of land in the distance. He keeps his gaze peeled on the sight as the plane nears it, one hand eagerly plastered against the window like a kid, smearing fingerprints across the clear surface. It's a few moments before it's anything recognizable, but eventually a jagged stretch of beach becomes visible, a tall line of cliffs to the left, an endless expanse of rising forest behind it, and, as they draw closer, a familiar clump of palm trees still draped with vines, now broken and hanging limp and unused, but unmistakable.

"Oh my god," Logan whispers.

It feels like hours (because Kendall is five) before landing, before the door of the amphibious plane swings open upon a stretch of water some few dozen meters from shore and time descends into a bustle of logistics as they sling overstuffed waterproof bags over their shoulders, trying to ensure nothing's forgotten.

Jeremy the pilot emerges, grinning and glaringly colorful in his Hawaiian tourist shirt and wide-legged khakis.

"See you Friday at noon?"

"We'll be here," Carlos assures him.

"You got your radios and tools and - "

"Everything's here," James assures him, tapping his bag, and grins playfully. "Did Gustavo, like, give you a list?"

"He made me take an oath," Jeremy sighs, dramatics worthy of Gustavo himself. "You die, I die."

"How very Titanic," Logan grins wryly. "Don't worry, we're good."

"Sure you don't want me to come along?"

Kendall shares a pointed look with Carlos, images flashing behind his eyes of all the different things they could try out on the island (he has vague ambitions of tree house sex, if they could build a tree house in a week), and judging by the way Carlos's eyes darken to a deep, swirling blue, his own thoughts aren't far off.

Kendall bites back a grin and turns to Jeremy. "I don't think you want to be around for this."

He plunges into the water with a rich, vibrant splash, his bag toppling after him, and what hits him the hardest is how hard it doesn't hit him.

They're maybe twenty feet off from where the wreckage once existed (the water's so clear now it's almost like it never happened), and Kendall had well prepared himself for the memories that would flood back, likely send him to tears for their first while back, but as the water surrounds him, sun bright on his skin as he races the others to shore, nearly melting in his own skin at the soft, dry warmth of the sand beneath his bare feet, so long gone and so missed, he's struck only with a sense of peace when it dawns on him that maybe all his preparation was therapy enough.

And maybe it's too soon; maybe it hasn't quite sunk in, maybe it'll hit him later, over dinner (which they're going to make, with their own fucking hands, over their own fucking fire), or afterwards, tangled in the arms of the other three as the waves curl up to the shore and the insects sing them to sleep. And when it does, if it does, whenever it does, he'll be ready then, too.

But now is now, and he's slowly coming to realize the future isn't what's important. It isn't the outcome that holds all the meaning, nor the end result that houses the answers: all that matters is the present, the distance they have traveled to reach it, and a future that they can't wait to see.