J. Lo and the Mine
So, in response to my deep and meaningful realisation: http://maitia.tumblr.com/post/9266329473/deep-and-meaningful-realisation, I present you with yet another fluffy Jogan drabble. It’s set in the Flubberverse, but can be read on its own. In the Flubberverse (which you can find in the sidebar), it comes after The Dementor.
J. Lo and the mine
”Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod OHMYGOD!”
It was early in the morning. Far, far too early, in Logan’s opinion, but somebody was being very loud and obnoxious in the common room and, to top it off, it now sounded like they were actually headed towards his room. He hoped they weren’t, because it was Saturday and he’d really like to sleep in, just a little. A glance at the alarm clock told him it was 6:47 in the morning. Definitely far too early for anybody sane to be up. And if he wanted insanity, he’d have boarded in Windsor, thank you very much. However much he might have wanted it, though, there was no stopping the moving, noisy somebody, and with a blast, the door to Logan’s room was flung open. The resulting smash was enough to topple the stack of textbooks perched precariously on the edge of the desk, sending them crashing down on the not-quite-sleeping figure on the bed.
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepp!” With a squeal that expressed all the dignity of a terrified chipmunk, Logan yanked his blanket up to cover his face, and was immediately buried under a small avalanche of books and notes. Ouch. Just… ouch. With a groan, he managed to extricate himself from the blanket-turned-library and poke his head out warily. It seemed that nothing else was trying to squash him at the moment. In fact, the room seemed perfectly quiet and normal. His eyes landed on the doorway, where a slightly rumpled Julian stood watching him, a suspiciously cheery and somewhat bubbly expression on his face. He was slightly out of breath and must have been running around, if his windswept hair was any indication.
“Well, well. Aren’t you just a little herd of stampeding rhinos this morning?” Logan’s voice croaked as he started to manoeuvre himself out of bed, getting tangled in the blanket and narrowly avoiding faceplanting at Julian’s feet.
Julian looked wholly unconcerned. In fact, he looked almost giddy, hopping on the spot as if he would explode from too much enthusiasm if he stayed in the same spot for more than two seconds. He did, however, have the good grace to help Logan gather up the fallen books and put them back on the desk. His bed once again book-free, Logan flopped down on it with a moan, burying his face in his pillow. A dip in the mattress told him that Julian had sat down next to him. Then there was the gentlest, sweetest sensation at the back of his head and he rolled around to see Julian running his hands through his hair, playing with it. Julian beamed at him.
“Good morning, boyfriend,” he said, fingers still carding through Logan’s hair, making his already outrageous bed-hair even wilder.
Boyfriend. Huh. And then, with a whoosh, the events of yesterday came back to Logan, and he remembered his meltdown on the floor, and Julian coming to talk to him, and Julian kissing him, and…
“You love me!” he burst out, before he could even think. He felt himself redden immediately. What was wrong with him?
Julian’s smile grew even wider.
“Yes, I love you. You’re a stupid idiot and a dementor and I love you.”
Well, that was just… wow. Logan could practically feel himself melting. Next thing, he’d have to be dragged around to classes in a bucket. Oh, wait, he should say something, because Julian was looking at him bright-eyed and just so damn hopeful.
“I love you, too. Boyfriend. Kiss?”
At this, Julian giggled a little, but complied nonetheless. However, the kiss was cut short when Julian pulled back, his face scrunched up.
“Oh, eww. Morning breath. Nasty!” He backed away from Logan as if to further illustrate his point.
“Julian!” Logan whined. “Honestly, you are such a picky diva! And anyway, if you don’t want to expose your precious self to the horrors of morning breath, then you really shouldn’t go around waking people up at such an ungodly hour. You’re begging for it! Come here!” And he pounced on his boyfriend, nailing him to the bed and proceeded to breathe heavily in his face. Julian squirmed and giggled and squirmed some more, but to no avail.
“You brought this on yourself, you know.” And he kissed him mercilessly.
After about ten minutes of ‘nasty’ morning make outs, they finally separated, and Logan eyed Julian curiously.
“What was so important that you had to go and wake me up this early, anyway? And why are you up now? You love to sleep more than anybody I know.”
Julian giggled excitedly.
“Oh, I just couldn’t sleep.”
“I had a revelation. No, an epiphany!”
Logan raised an eyebrow. As far as he knew, epiphanies that came about in the early hours of the morning should be soundly ignored until they learned to behave themselves like adults instead of waking up their poor subjects like overexcited toddlers jumping on their parent’s bed at the break of dawn on the one day of the week the parents can actually sleep in.
“Yeah. An epiphany. About you.”
Logan found his tolerance of early-morning epiphanies growing. This should be good.
“I realised… Well, you know how your full name is John Logan Wright III. Well, obviously you know; it’s your name… Anyway. John Logan, right? Abbreviate it and you get… J. Lo! You’re J. Lo, geddit?”
Logan was dumbstruck. Julian was giggling like mad. He was actually snorting, which Logan supposed he ought to make fun of, but which he somehow found incredibly endearing. It was strange how Julian could poke fun at his name, call him a dementor, insult his morning breath and snort like a greasy butcher and still make Logan’s stomach squirm and give him the warm tingles all over. Feeling that he should at least make some sort of response to this, and that it should be as discouraging as possible, he settled for rolling his eyes. ‘Feeble’, he reprimanded himself. Ah well.
Julian was having none of it.
“I am a genius! A wordsmith! A poet! And you can never call me a diva again, because J. Lo is definitely a much bigger diva than I could ever be! Ha! In your face, Lo, no wait, J. Lo!” And he collapsed on the bed in a peal of laughter that would make an unhinged axe-murderer proud.
Logan rolled his eyes again.
“So, if I can’t call you a diva, what can I call you?” he asked when Julian had gotten his breathing under control.
Julian assumed a lordly posture.
“Your awesomeness, Sire, Milord, Your Grace, Your Holiness-“
“- You do realise that His Holiness is reserved for the pope, right?”
“Oh, whatever. Take your pick. I’m feeling gracious today.”
Logan chuckled and considered for a moment. His gaze grew somewhat tender as he looked into Julian’s eyes again.
“How about… mine?”
Julian’s eyes narrowed.
“A mine, Lo, really? Are you trying to tell me I’m explosive? Because I’m pretty sure there are better words for that. Also, better compliments than ‘explosive’ spring to mind. Out of the two of us, the one with the explosive temper is not-“
Logan cut him off, feeling slightly exasperated.
“No! Not a mine, just… mine. You’re mine. Although I do think you kind of shot down your own argument just before.”
Julian’s mouth snapped shut and his ears reddened so much it looked painful.
“Oh. Well, yeah, I suppose. If you like.”
Logan smiled, looking only a little smug.
“Good. Because you are. And I’m yours.”
“Come on, J. Lo?”
“I’m not responding to J. Lo!”
“You’re such a sap.”
“But you luuuuuurve me!”
“Oh, shut up, J. Lo!”