Title: Jett Stetson's One Hundred Percent Foolproof Heartbreak Cure (Patent Pending)
Fandom: Big Time Rush
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Logan knows that a relationship with an irresponsible (and closeted) narcissist like Dak Zevon is a bad idea. So why can't he walk away?
Notes: Thanks to
queenitsy for the beta!
Chapter One Chapter Two “It’s really not that big a deal,” Logan said.
James held a blue shirt up in front of Logan, shook his head, and replaced it with a red one. “Of course it is! You’re going to Le Foode. That’s a very hip restaurant, and I need you to look good.”
Logan raised his eyebrows. He’d regretted telling James about his date as soon as the words had come out of his mouth, but now that James had insisted on coming over and dressing him like a Ken doll, he really regretted it. Since James had gotten serious about Camille, he seemed to take his friends’ romantic failures as a personal affront, and with Kendall and Carlos stuck in classes at Minnesota University until Thanksgiving break, Logan was the only one left for James to fuss over. “You need me to look good?”
“Yes! I’m in the running for Man Fashion’s Most Stylish Man of the Year, and I am not letting Jett Stetson and his popped collars beat me,” James said. He picked one of Logan’s ties up off his tie rack, made a face at it, and tossed it in the wastebasket. “I can’t have one of my best friends sweater vesting it up at Le Foode and making me look bad. What if someone sees you?”
“Hey, I liked that tie,” Logan protested. “And I like sweater vests!”
“Too bad. Are these your only jackets?” James stuck his head into the closet. Logan’s neatly organized clothing started flying across the room.
“I just alphabetized those!” Logan said, snagging a cardigan in midair.
James glanced at him. “You alphabetize your clothes?” He shook his head and dove back into the closet. “Besides, don’t you want to look good? You haven’t been on a real date in ages. Banging Dak doesn’t count.”
“Could you not call it ‘banging’?”
James didn’t turn around, but Logan could tell from his tone that he was rolling his eyes. “Okay, fine, making love to Dak doesn’t count.”
Logan winced. “It’s not that either.”
Now James turned around. “Hey, what’s the matter, little buddy?” he asked, looking genuinely concerned.
“Nothing,” Logan said quickly. “I just don’t want to talk about Dak right now. And I’m seven months older than you.”
James grinned. “Yes, but you’re so wee!” He patted the top of Logan’s head for emphasis, then pointed to the bathroom. “Now get in there and put on your tightest jeans!”
Logan picked the jeans in question out of the mess on his floor and trudged off to the bathroom. He sighed as he changed. He might not want to talk about Dak, but it was hard not to think about him. They hadn’t spoken in two days, but Dak’s face was everywhere - on TV, on magazine covers, on an enormous billboard for Remember the Memories that Logan had to drive past every day on the way to class.
Last night had been the worst, though. James, who had recorded the title song for Remember the Memories, had held a house party for the music video premiere. James’ contribution to the video turned out to consist of him belting out a ballad full of grief and regret while naked and wrapped in the American flag. This rather bizarre form of patriotism was intercut with Dak and Jett running through a meadow wearing all white, plus a few choice scenes from the movie - Dak doing pushups in basic training, Jett crawling up the beach at Normandy, Dak and Jett holding hands as they ran into a hail of gunfire together.
It was the most homoerotic thing Logan had ever seen, and Logan had actually had sex with Dak. But the fact that the video made the movie look like a very explodey musical about Dak and Jett’s old timey romance didn’t make Logan feel any better about his last conversation with Dak. Nor did James and Camille cuddled up next to him on the couch, making out and ignoring their guests.
It wasn’t like Logan missed Dak or anything. For one thing, it had only been two days. But it was hard to stop replaying last argument over in his mind when he couldn’t get away from Dak. Or when his ex-girlfriend and his best friend were so in love he was mildly embarrassed for them.
It was only a week until Remember the Memories premiered, he told himself. Then Dak would stop the press tour, and Logan would stop being confronted with Dak’s face every time he turned on the TV.
“Yo! Logan! Did you fall in?” James called from the other side of the door.
Logan blinked and remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He zipped his fly and opened the door. “Ta da?”
James looked him over. “Oh, no, those are not nearly tight enough.” He yanked them down before Logan could stop him. “Go put those in the dryer! And then maybe think about doing a few squats?”
Logan glared at him, stepped out of his jeans, and marched them off to the laundry room. This had better be one hell of a date.
*
Le Foode was one of the nicest restaurants Logan had ever eaten in. The décor was elegant, the wait staff was stunningly attractive, and even the tap water tasted amazing. Their table was small and intimate, tucked into a cozy, candlelit corner of the ivy-garlanded courtyard, and from inside the restaurant proper, someone was playing the violin superbly.
The atmosphere was perfect. And Logan couldn’t think of a thing to say.
“So…this is nice,” he said for the third time.
“Yep,” Chris replied.
They lapsed into silence again, looking over the menus. “Have you ever eaten here before?” Logan asked.
“No, but I hear the food is really good,” Chris said.
More silence. “I, uh, I think I’ll have the chicken,” Chris ventured.
“Chicken’s good,” Logan said, relieved that Chris had started this round of conversation. “Good old chicken. Bawk bawk bawk. You know.”
“Um, yeah.”
Their waitress arrived then, much to Logan’s relief. “Are you ready to order, gentlemen?” she asked.
“Yes, I’ll have the chicken,” Chris said.
“And I’ll have the steak salad,” Logan said.
“How would you like that cooked?”
“Medium. Oh, and dressing on the side, please.”
“You got it.” She started to leave.
“Oh, and no onions,” Logan said quickly.
“No onions.” She turned away again.
“Oh! And, uh, could we get some more bread?” Logan picked up the bread basket and turned it over to show that they’d eaten all the bread. The cloth napkin inside fell out, and he scrambled to pick it up off the floor. “We, uh, we ate all the bread.”
“No problem,” she said, taking the basket and taking off before he could ask her anything else.
Logan sighed and sat back. He was back to thinking of things to talk to Chris about. They’d already exhausted hip-hop (Chris liked most of the same artists that Logan did but didn’t have much to say about them), school (it was hard), and the weather (it was L.A., so…seventy-two degrees all day, every day). Chris was going home to Boston for Thanksgiving; Logan was staying in L.A. They both liked turkey. Neither one cared for cranberry sauce. Go Raiders. And so on.
Logan was beginning to suspect that going on a date with someone who had all the same interests as you was not, in fact, always very interesting.
Chris adjusted his silverware so that it was perfectly lined up. “So…” he started.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” a voice beside them asked.
Logan glanced up at the waiter. “Sorry, the waitress already took our ord-”
Then he froze. Standing there dressed as a waiter, complete with bowtie, apron, and obviously fake mustache, was Dak Zevon.
“More bread?” Dak asked.
“The waitress is already getting us bread, I think,” Chris said. He didn’t seem to recognize Dak. “Thank you, though.”
“Then can I get you more water?” Dak asked. “New silverware? A more comfortable chair?”
Logan managed to get his mouth moving again. “No thank you, we’re fine,” he managed to grit out. What on earth was going on here?
“Oh, good,” Dak said, beaming. “Well, I’ll be back if you think of anything else you need.” He trotted off.
Logan gaped after him, then stood up. “Excuse me, I have to use the bathroom,” he told Chris, and hurried after Dak.
He caught him in the hallway between the bathrooms and the kitchen. “Dak!” he hissed, and Dak froze. “What are you doing here? Are you spying on me?”
Dak drew himself up haughtily. “Of course not! I’m doing research!”
“Research?” Logan repeated.
“For my next audition,” Dak said.
“You told me your next audition was for Hatman,” Logan pointed out. “Hatman is not a waiter.”
“No, but he is a master of disguise,” Dak pointed out, tapping his mustache.
Logan shook his head. “Whatever. Look, you have to get out of here. I’m on a date!”
“Oh, is that tonight?” Dak said, eyes wide and innocent.
“You know perfectly well it’s tonight!”
“I had totally forgotten. Is that your date?” Dak asked. “I thought he was, like, your great-uncle or much-older professor or something.”
“Chris is my age and you know it,” Logan snapped. “Now leave.”
“I will. When I’m done with my research,” Dak replied. “Shouldn’t you get back to your table? Your ‘date’ will be waiting.”
“I heard those scare quotes!” Logan said. Glaring, he turned on his heel and marched back to his table.
“Everything okay?” Chris asked as he sat down.
“Yeah. Sorry. Everything’s fine,” Logan said, trying to calm himself. Let Dak run around the restaurant making a fool of himself. Logan was just going to ignore him.
He made himself focus on Chris. “So, what’s your first choice for medical school?” he asked.
“You said you needed water, right?”
Logan glared up at Dak, who had appeared at their table again, this time holding a brimming pitcher of ice water. “We’re fine.”
Dak pointed to Chris’s glass, which was maybe one-quarter empty. “You look like you’re getting low there, buddy. Let me top you off.” He reached between them and started pouring. “So it looks like you two are on a date, huh? How’s that working out for you?”
“Uh, fine, I guess,” Chris said. “Hey, look out, you’re overfilling the glass-!”
“What’s that?” Dak asked, looking down, even as he kept pouring so that the glass overflowed. Cold water flooded the tablecloth and Chris’s lap.
Chris yelped and jumped up. “Oh, I am so sorry, sir!” Dak said, whipping the white dish towel from off his shoulder and handing it to Chris. “That looks pretty bad, doesn’t it?” He nodded at Chris’ soaked lap.
“You think?” Chris asked. Other diners were starting to stare at them. Logan felt his face heat up.
“Why don’t you go to the bathroom and try to dry off a bit?” he suggested. He glared at Dak. “And why don’t you go help some other table?”
He must’ve looked really angry, because Dak took off, and Chris squished awkwardly towards the bathroom. While he waited for Chris to get back, Logan tried to mop up some of the water with his napkin, stewing internally. What was Dak’s problem? Did he think this was charming? Because this was definitely not charming.
Chris returned a few minutes later, looking damp and uncomfortable. “I’m so sorry about all this,” Logan said as Chris sat down.
“Don’t be,” Chris said, obviously trying to put a good face on things. “It’s not your fault.”
It kind of was - or at least, Dak wouldn’t be there acting like an idiot if it wasn’t for Logan - but Logan didn’t want to say so. For one thing, he really didn’t want to explain his relationship with Dak, whatever it was, to Chris; for another, the last thing he needed was to blow Dak’s cover and have the restaurant descend into chaos as he was mobbed.
“So what were you saying about med school?” Chris asked.
Before Logan could answer, their waitress arrived with their food. “Here you go, gentlemen,” she said, placing a beautifully golden quarter chicken on a bed of spinach in front of Chris, and a truly enormous plate of salad in front of Logan, deep burgundy strips of steak lying like spokes on a bed of dark greens, walnuts, and crumbled bleu cheese.
“Thank you,” Logan said, then frowned at his salad. “Oh, uh…the dressing?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry about that,” she said. “Let me get it for you.”
“Thanks.”
The waitress hurried off. Logan started picking at his salad anyway, just to give himself something to do.
“That looks great,” Chris said.
“Yeah, so does yours. This is a nice place,” Logan replied.
The awful silence descended again, and since they weren’t really eating yet, just picking, they didn’t even have the excuse of being busy. Logan cleared his throat. “So, um…do you like…hockey?”
Chris shrugged. “Sure, it’s okay,” he said. “Do you like basketball?”
“Sure, it’s okay,” Logan said.
“Hmm.” Chris nodded slightly and ate a single wilted spinach leaf.
Behind Chris, another waiter rolled a huge cake out to the table next to theirs and presented it to an older couple, who appeared to be celebrating their anniversary. The other people at their table - their children and grandchildren, Logan assumed - smiled and clapped.
Logan sighed, abruptly lonely.
“Listen, Logan,” Chris began, looking uncomfortable. Well, more uncomfortable than he already looked. “You’re a really nice guy, but…”
With a rush of relief Logan realized what Chris was trying to say. “It’s not working, is it?”
Chris looked equally relieved. “No, it’s not.”
“Oh man. Thank God,” Logan said, laughing. “I’m so glad you agree.”
Chris laughed too. “Yeah, no, there’s absolutely no chemistry happening here.”
“None!”
It was like a huge load had been lifted off Logan’s shoulders. He didn’t have to try to make this work anymore! He didn’t have to pretend to be enjoying the date! He could just eat his salad and have a nice conversation with a classmate. He grinned at Chris, suddenly enjoying the evening for the first time.
“Did someone order a side of salad dressing?” someone said. Very loudly.
Logan turned. Dak was quick-marching towards them, holding a small bowl of dressing aloft. Logan had just enough time to take in the forced smile on Dak’s face, as Dak stumbled forward and the bowl left his hand…
…and splat! The dressing smacked Logan in the face.
“Gah!” Logan yelped, reeling back. He jumped up, groping for his napkin as it fell from his lap, and swiped it across his face.
Then he opened his eyes. Big mistake - the dressing was citrus-based, some of it was still in his eyes, and it stung.
“What is wrong with you?” he demanded of Dak. “Are you out of your mind?”
For the first time Dak’s unflappably mischievous demeanor faltered. “Uhhhh…let me get you some more napkins,” he said, stumbling backwards -
- into their actual waitress, who was hurrying forward with another bowl of dressing to see what was going on.
Dak crashed into her. She stumbled left. The dressing flew from her hand and splat! - landed on Logan’s head.
Dak stumbled right. And straight into the anniversary cake.
The courtyard erupted into chaos. People stood up to see what was going on; flashes popped as they took pictures on their phones. One of the anniversary grandkids started crying. Chris attempted to mop Logan off with his napkin.
Dak, meanwhile, was struggling to extricate himself from the cake, where he was wedged butt-deep. His elbow skidded on a frosting rosette and he went down, taking the table with him in a loud jangle of candles and silverware. The top tier of the cake slid grandly down to break over his head.
The manager stormed into the room. “What is going on out here?” he demanded.
Everyone looked at Dak, who gave Logan one helpless look. “That’s my cue,” he said, scrambled to his feet, and bolted.
*
Dak wiped himself down with napkins as best he could, but he wanted to make sure he made it to Logan’s before Logan did, so he didn’t go home and shower. Instead he waited on Logan’s doorstep, frosting drying itchily in his hair and under his collar, until the lights of Logan’s car shone into the driveway.
Logan paused only briefly when he saw Dak. “I’m not talking to you,” he said. His hair was clean, if damp and deflated, but the collar and shoulders of his shirt were stained and splattered with dressing. He looked exhausted.
Dak stood up. “Logan, I’m sorry.”
“That’s it? You’re sorry?” Logan repeated, apparently forgetting that he wasn’t talking to Dak. “After a stunt like that? What were you even thinking?”
“What was I thinking? What were you thinking?” Dak asked. “That guy was totally boring.”
“Oh, no,” Logan said, unlocking his front door. “No, we are not doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“You told me to go on that date!” Logan cried, turning around, the key forgotten in the lock.
“I never thought you’d actually go!” Dak protested.
“And I never thought you’d stalk me,” Logan said.
“I wasn’t stalking you,” Dak said quickly. “I told you, I was doing research.”
Logan raised his eyebrows.
“Okay, maybe I was following you a little,” Dak admitted. “But I was just looking out for you! He could’ve been a whackjob!”
Logan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, he could’ve been the kind of lunatic who dresses up like a waiter and follows his friends on their dates.”
Dak paused. “Friends?”
“I mean, what were you thinking?” Logan went on, steamrolling past Dak’s pause. “‘Oh, look at me, I’m Dak Zevon, I get everything I want…’”
“I don’t - ” Dak tried to say, but Logan kept going with his totally inaccurate imitation.
“‘…I’m going to ruin Logan’s first chance in ages of having a nice, normal evening with a nice, normal guy who will actually hold my hand in public!’” The “imitation” fell apart as Logan ended on a shout. Color blazed in his cheeks.
Dak frowned. “That’s what you want? Public hand-holding? I thought we weren’t doing that kind of thing.”
Logan snorted. “Not with you. I mean with a real person.”
It was the off-handedness of the comment that stung the worst. Dak could only blink in wounded surprise at Logan, speechless.
Logan softened slightly. “Oh, don’t give me that face. You’re the one in the closet.”
The old argument jumpstarted Dak’s mouth into working again. “Not this again!”
“Yes, this again!” Logan snapped, the softness gone.
Dak scowled. “Look, Mitchell, we’ve been through this a million times. I’m not throwing my career away to appease your notions of gay honor or whatever.”
“Look, Dakariah Zeverman, there are out actors,” Logan retorted. “Lots of them. Some quite successful.”
Not for the first time, Dak regretted telling Logan his real name. “Yeah, but none of them are trying to overcome the teen heartthrob thing right now. Do you know what kind of roles I’d be stuck with if I came out?”
“You’d still be working!” Logan pointed out.
“Yeah?” Dak folded his arms. “What if you could be a doctor but you could only…could only do proctology?”
Logan made a face. “Okay, fair, if unnecessarily pointed.” He shook his head as if trying to shake Dak’s argument out of it. “But wouldn’t it be worth it? To feel comfortable in your own skin for once? To be…to be a role model for, what, thousands of kids?” He waved his hands vaguely towards the street, as if the sexually confused youth of the world were waiting there for Dak to march in a pride parade. “To walk down the street with the person you love and not have to hide it?”
Part of Dak did think it sounded nice. The rest of him knew it was a pipe dream. “That’s sweet, Logan, but as much as I like morning quickies, if it’s a choice between you and my career, I’m gonna pick my career.”
“Well, then I don’t know what you want from me!” Logan exploded. “You can’t tell me you don’t care about me and then stalk me on dates!”
Dak threw up his hands in frustration. “I didn’t say I don’t care about you, I said I don’t care about you that much.”
“Oh, well that makes it all better,” Logan said.
Whoops. “Look, my job is who I am,” Dak said. “That’s just how Hollywood is, okay?”
Logan shook his head. “No. It’s not. Don’t forget, I used to do this too. And if I learned anything from it, it’s that they can only take away who you are if you let them.”
“Fine, then I’ll let them!” Dak snapped. “Look, I’m not you, or Kendall, or whoever. I want this. And hey, me being such a shallow soulless fake-person didn’t stop you wanting to bone me in the first place, remember? You talk a lot of smack about Hollywood, but every time its hottest rising star calls, you come running.” He raised his eyebrows coolly. “I guess I’m not the only one with a price.”
He knew he’d gone too far the second it was out of his mouth. Logan drew back, his jaw setting. “See, that is exactly your problem,” he said. “It’s not that you’re closeted, it’s that you want the whole world to revolve around your ridiculous closeted shenanigans. That’s why you need to be on the cover of every magazine with models whose names you can’t even remember. That’s why you meddle in other people’s love lives. You’re a miserable little person trying to convince yourself you’re not.”
He finally opened his front door. And no one had ever looked at Dak like that - not the most unimpressed casting director, not the haughtiest interviewer, not his angriest ex. “I used to feel bad for you, you know that?” Logan said. “Now I don’t even know why I bothered. Because right now? I don’t even like you.”
And he walked into his house and shut the door, leaving Dak standing on the steps alone, buttercream crusted in his hair.
Chapter Four