Word Count: 1799

TW: kissing, vague mention of homophobia. Don't think it's NSFW, but if anyone thinks it is, lemme know.

A/N: This takes place when Thomas (and thus the Sides) are teenagers! They're calling each other by their titles because at this point, they haven't actually told each other their names.

Morality is unusually tentative as he steps into Logan's room, hesitating in the doorway like he doubts his welcome. "Logic?" he asks, peering at Logan where he's studying at his desk. "Can I come in?"

Logan shrugs. Thomas has two exams the next day and half a script to memorize within the next week, but he already studied earlier in the day, and Morality isn't nearly as disruptive as Princey. So long as Morality doesn't intend to disrupt his work, Logan can't see any reason to deny him entry. "I have no objection." 

Morality creeps in, still with that uncharacteristic nervousness, and perches on the edge of his bed. Logan swivels in his office chair to watch him, and the way the other Side meets his eyes is-- troubling, maybe, or at the very least disconcerting. Morality is Thomas' heart, his conscience, ready with a smile for any occasion. Seeing him worried is, well...worrying. Feelings are not Logan's department, but Thomas' overall wellbeing arguably is;  with that in mind, he ventures, "Is something the matter? Perhaps, as Logic, I could assist."

Morality gives a weak little giggle at that. "It's not like you could assist as anyone else, silly."

"On the contrary," Logan says, because he isn't silly, thank you, "human beings put on a variety of figurative masks to address different situations. I could assist as Logic-- or, if it were truly necessary, I could assist as a neutral party, or as-- as a friend." His face heats. He stumbled over his words. Why did he do that? What purpose did it serve? There was no reason to make such a mistake.

Morality bites his lip. "I think I might need your help as a friend," he says softly, like it's an admission of fault. Logan sits straighter and adjusts his tie to look more professional. "It's dumb, I know it's dumb, and I don't think it's wrong, but what if it is, and-- ohh, that's not even the problem!" he snaps with surprising vehemence. "I'm saying this all wrong."

Logan flicks through his mental library of Thomas' dilemmas. There are a lot of them; they're sorted by the Dewey Decimal System, and also by year. Sometimes he goes through them to remind himself of past successes and use them for arguments. He finds the most likely problem and tries, "You're referring to Thomas' repressed attraction to others of the same gender."

Morality sniffles and nods, and Logan feels a burst of triumph. Once more, Logic has succeeded where raw emotions fail. "Mmm-hmm. But, it's just-- I was talking to Anxiety, and Thomas was talking to some of his friends, and, and I don't-- what if we're bad at kissing?"

It's something akin to being clocked by a blunt object, such as a bowling pin or golf trophy. Logan stares, blindsided; this is not where his social algorithms predicted this conversation was going. Bad at kissing? What on Earth is the point in worrying about it? If Thomas wishes to be better at kissing, he should simply watch visual reenactments of the act, such as those found on television or online. Research would surely be the most prudent option, especially considering that seeking practical experience might cause him to catch diseases or form irrational emotional entanglements. Logan flounders, trying to sort out a response from the logjam of reasonable assertions, but Morality's eyes are already welling up with tears. He's interpreting this as a rejection of some sort, either of his worries or of himself, and it's-- ridiculous, of course it is, why would Logan reject him-- "What?" he finally blurts out, bewildered. "What makes you believe that would be the case?"

"Thomas' friends are all getting practice!" Morality wails. Logan reels back. "They're dating and kissing and they're all so happy, I'm so happy for them, but no one at school knows we like boys! What if we meet a boy in college, or later in high school, and it's not the same as kissing a girl and we're bad at it? I don't want Thomas' future boyfriend to be sad!"

Logan manages, "How long did you say you spoke to Anxiety, again?" 

"Just a few minutes," Morality says morosely. "Everything he said made sense, though. We're practice-ally dead in the water when it comes to romance, even with Princey's help."

Logan says, pained, "Practice and practically come from the same root, please don't combine them for wordplay." Morality looks up at him with wide, sad eyes, impossibly pitiful, and he adds weakly, "I'm sure Thomas' hypothetical future mate would be willing to teach him."

"Anxiety says Thomas might not even get a boyfriend if he can't kiss right!"

Yes, well, last week Anxiety heard the low battery alert on the smoke alarm and convinced Thomas to evacuate the house because he thought it was the carbon monoxide detector, and that was a mild case of his paranoia, Logan starts to say, and then Morality bursts out with, "So I thought if we got practice it'd be okay!"

Logan's brain crashes. He falters, trying in vain to reboot, and forces out, "What... do you mean by that?"

There's a flush of color across Morality's cheeks. It makes his freckles stand out, scattered like constellations across the bridge of his nose, and for a useless moment Logan can only stare at them, lost like he's in a trance. Freckles are caused by sun exposure. It's unreasonable that Morality should have more of them than Logan himself, or even Princey. Surely the mystery of their existence is the reason they're so enthralling. "I couldn't ask Anxiety 'cause he'd get all tense, and I guess I could ask Princey, but-- you're good with learning, and you're my friend, so I thought I'd ask you," Morality says, all in a rush. "You can say no, I won't mind if you do--"

"No!" It comes out much louder than he intended. Logan swallows and says, quieter, "I mean.  I-- I agree. The muscle memory alone would be helpful, and if necessary, in the future, we could advise Thomas on... strategies. It's a good idea."

"Oh," Morality breathes, like Logan has provided him with the information necessary to achieve a breakthrough. "So you don't mind?"

"I don't," Logan says, and Morality looks so hopeful that it hurts to look at him. "Though we should probably retire to the bed," he adds. At Morality's expression his face goes hot. "Not-- it's a more practical position."

"Yeah," Morality says, voice cracking, "okay." He scoots toward the headboard, and Logan stands up from his desk, tells his hands not to shake. Mind over matter. He is mind. This should not be a problem.

He sits on the bed, half-turned to face Morality, and the other Side gives a tremulous smile. "So, um. Since you wear the smarty pants in this household... how do we start?"

Logan sorts through the whole of Thomas' knowledge of kissing and sensuality. The information is all secondhand, mostly cribbed from pop culture depictions of romantic relationships; it's doubtful that it contains much in the way of valid strategies. Still, if they're to determine what works via trial and error-- 

Dear Heisenberg, his face feels like it's on fire. "I believe I have an idea," Logan says. "If you would turn your face toward mine?" He reaches out a hand to caress Morality's cheek, brushing a thumb over his freckles. The other Side's skin is smooth and warm. Logan thinks of Cosmopolitan and sucks in a breath. "Forgive me if I make a mistake. The learning process is-- fraught, with opportunities for growth."

He leans forward and presses his lips to the side of Morality's mouth, as soft and firm as he can manage. Morality exhales shakily-- he can feel it, they're so close they can feel each other's breath-- and Logan moves to his lips, pushing against him experimentally, breathing in. Morality's fingers curl on the sheets. They stay like that for a long moment, quiet and cautious, searching, before Logan pulls away. His face is burning.

Morality leans after him, eyes wider than Logan's ever seen. His pupils are blown large. "My turn?" Logan nods, scrabbling for words, but Morality surges forward before he can, curling a hand into his hair. His lips are open slightly, pushing against Logan's, deliciously sensitive; Logan trembles and kisses back. He reaches up to his face again, watching for signs of discontent, but when his fingers touch Morality's face, the other Side only sighs. His hair tickles Logan's fingers, soft with curls. 

The other Side tightens his grip in Logan's hair, pulling him forward, and the stimulation is a bright point of shock, twinging all through Logan's body like a struck chord. He pushes closer, both of them shifting-- and their glasses, painfully, collide.

Logan jerks back in surprise. Morality gives a little meep! of shock. Logan stares at him-- at his mussed hair, his red face, the flush of his lips-- and the other Side bursts into a fit of giggles, as inexplicable as the rest of him.

Kissing. They'd just been kissing. Had the experiment been satisfactory? Should they have been taking notes? 

Logan asks, dazed, "Is it a laughing matter?" 

Perhaps he could use the lack of notes as an excuse to repeat the experiment--

"I always laugh when I'm happy," Morality confides, interrupting his thoughts. Logan feels a wild, sudden urge to pull him in and kiss him again. "My name is Patton, by the way," he blurts out with an embarrassed grin, and Logan finds himself blindsided all over again. "I like to be on first name terms with people I kiss!"

"You've never kissed anyone before me," Logan says, a token protest. Patton. A name, he's not the only one with a name--

"Maybe I just learned!" Patton says, mischievous. "You're really good at this explaining thing, Teach."

Suddenly that nickname is unbearable. "Logan," he says, the name falling from his lips before he can change his mind. "My name is Logan." Patton brightens further, almost shyly. "And I was... glad to oblige. My pleasure." The inanities coming out of his mouth make him want to scream.

"We can try again later today," Patton promises, "but I told Princey I'd make cookies, so we have to wait right now." He stands up and glances back at Logan, eyes sparkling. "You like cookies, right?"

Logan's mouth is very dry. Later? Today? He doesn't know whether to sing or scream. Probably, being Logic, he will not partake in either activity. "Right," he agrees weakly. 

When Patton leaves the room, he sits staring at the door for a long, long time. 

A/N: Thanks for reading! Remember, if you have a one shot you'd like to see, go ahead and tell me!