Work Text:
1
Logico missed the question the first time because he was watching his toes swing through the air, calculating the long drop from the ski lift to the snowy slopes below. It was only when Irratino reached over to nudge him that he looked up. "What was that?"
"I said," Irratino yelled over the icy wind, "what's your sign?"
Logico considered the question. Given that this was Irratino, he was unlikely to be inquiring about Logico's Deductive license, or his signature grids, or even the bristling eyebrows that some had described as his hallmark. It was a moment's work to determine what he was asking about.
Nonetheless, Logico still refused to commit those astrological charts to memory — there hardly seemed any point, especially when he had Irratino with him. "I'm..." He cast his mind back to Lady Violet, who they had just seen excoriating the quality of the lodge's hot chocolate. "A Virgo."
"A Virgo?" Irratino almost jolted out of his seat, jouncing the ski lift perilously. Logico cast a nervous glance up at the cable. "No! That — it can't be!"
"What's your sign?" Logico asked, hoping it would placate him. Talking about himself always seemed to improve Irratino's mood.
"Aquarius, but that means—" Irratino writhed, dragging his fingers through his glorious hair. The lift creaked ominously. "No! The stars have to be wrong, just this once."
Hearing those words filled Logico with a warmth that was better than the hot chocolate. Even if the cable snapped right now, sending them both plunging to their icy death 52 feet below, it might be worth it.
"I won't accept it!" Irratino tossed his head back and shook his fist at the sky. Logico watched his spangled hair tie slip from his flowing locks and vanish into the snow far below. "Fate! I will defy you if I must!"
There was something very pleasing about the sight of Irratino, face flushed, shouting his rejection of nonexistent supernatural forces. Logico took another moment to savour the fizz of glee in his chest before speaking. "Actually, I made that up."
Irratino whirled round and stared at Logico, green eyes bulging in a way that would have looked much less appealing on another person. "You what?"
"I made it up," Logico repeated. "You fake your death every week. Why shouldn't I fake my birth?"
"Ugh!" Irratino clutched at his hair again — and finally noticed the missing hair tie, which made him redouble his scowl at Logico. "Because you almost killed me for real!"
Irratino slouched in sulky silence the rest of the way up the mountain. Logico quietly made a mental note to look up his actual sign later, just in case it might prove equally effective.
2
"Pick a card," Irratino said suddenly.
"Is this really the time?" Logico asked, staring at the deck Irratino was brandishing. Once again, he wondered how Irratino managed to stash all his belongings in his ridiculously well-fitting jacket.
"Time is what we make of it!" Irratino insistently wriggled the cards in his direction. "Just pick one."
Logico gave in, because he suspected that if Irratino wriggled any harder, he'd topple off the rock he was perched on, and straight into the tide pool. That wouldn't do. There might be a clue inside.
He plucked a card from the deck.
"Aha!" Irratino exclaimed, before Logico could even hold the card up to him. "You're in luck. That represents a tall, dark and handsome stranger! It seems romance is... in the cards."
Logico squinted at the little picture again. "You said the other day that this toxic frog symbolizes 'telling lies, innocence, liminality, and/or just the ability to climb trees'."
Irratino waved an airy hand, somehow still maintaining his precarious balance. "These things change according to the flux of the psychic aether."
"You also said a while back that the waters of the Nile correspond to 'undefined'," Logico said flatly. "Excuse me if I'm not convinced by these cards of yours."
"What's there to not be convinced?" Irratino turned the full force of his dimples onto him; Logico felt the usual tremor in his iron rationality, but he was getting used to suppressing it by now. "You have met a tall, dark and handsome stranger."
Logico surveyed the horizon. It was empty, except for a few seagulls circling and a fishing spear jutting out of the water. Then he did a full 360-degree turn, just to make sure he hadn't missed anything. No one was in sight.
"Where?" he asked. "The tallest suspect is 5 foot 7."
"Right here!" Irratino gestured wildly, and this time he really did tumble into the pool. Logico stepped out of range of the splash just in time, and watched silently as Irratino surfaced, gasping for air and shaking water from his spectacular mane, which now fanned out loose over his shoulders. The remaining cards in his grip were a sodden mess.
"As I was saying," Irratino pronounced, spitting out a mouthful of sand, "you have seen me. Here at the ocean, which symbolizes—" He glanced at a blotchy card. "Loss, grief, or disappointment." His shoulders slumped. "I should have tried this at the ski resort. Still!" He stared at Logico, eyes bright with saltwater and hope. "The point stands. That's me right here."
Logico surveyed him with an impartial eye. Irratino was truly tall — almost irritatingly so. He was definitely dark. He was, speaking from an entirely objective standpoint, handsome. Even completely drenched, with his clothes clinging to his skin, and droplets of water shimmering in his hair. Maybe especially then.
Nonetheless, Logico knew that the truth required attention to every detail.
"You're not a stranger," he pointed out.
Irratino heaved a very long sigh and sank back into the waves.
3
"Oh no, what a shame," Miss Saffron lamented, twirling a lock of golden hair around her finger, as they watched Dr. Crimson being led away for the third time that month. "I had such a crush on her."
Logico didn't usually converse with the suspects more than he had to, but perhaps he wasn't thinking straight, after spending the entire day stumbling over misshapen sculptures and staring at paintings that made his eyes ache. "You had a crush on The Amazing Aureolin just two days ago."
"And then you put her in jail!" Miss Saffron chirped. "A girl's got to move on."
It was not an unreasonable thing to say — one might even call it logical — but something was making Logico's stomach churn uneasily. And he didn't think it was just nausea from the paint fumes.
After Miss Saffron had sashayed away, her pet poodle frolicking at her heels, Logico made his way up to the rooftop garden, to see if this discomfort would subside in the open air. He was just in time to watch a pigeon pluck yet another sequinned hairtie from Irratino's tresses.
"Hey!" Irratino cried out, batting at the air — but he was laughing, and his grin only broadened when he turned and caught sight of Logico. "All done? You want to go grab some dinner?"
"Later." Logico leaned against the rooftop railing, after a tentative prod to make sure it wasn't broken. "We can stay a bit longer. I thought you'd like this place."
"And you're right for once—"
"For once?"
"—I do love it! It's amazing. I need to come back and look at all the artworks, when they're not being evidence." Irratino was beaming. A lock of hair tumbled across his eyes, and he reached up to brush it away. Logico pulled a hair tie out of his pocket and handed it to him; Irratino's eyes briefly went wide, as they did every time, despite the fact that Logico had been doing this for weeks now.
There was comfortable silence for a while as Irratino gathered his hair back again. The pigeons lurked in the background, but this plain blue fabric seemed too plebeian for their sophisticated tastes.
"You're looking glum," Irratino said eventually. "What's eating you? Isn't the case solved?"
"Oh," Logico said, startled. The unease from earlier had mostly melted away; he hadn't realized any sign of it might still be showing on his face. "It is. I was just thinking about the investigation process."
Irratino winked, crossing to join him at the railing. "If you're questioning your rational methods, the occult will always welcome you with open arms."
"Not that," Logico said, elbowing him gently. "The rationality is fine. It's—" He hesitated. He was oddly worried that Irratino might laugh. Irratino was always laughing at him — exasperatingly, radiantly — but somehow this felt different. "It's love I'm wondering about."
Irratino did not laugh. In fact, Irratino did not say anything at all for a while, until he eventually remarked, "Love. Never thought I'd hear that from you."
"It does keep coming up with the suspects," Logico said slowly, still cautious. "And it's different every time. I'm just not sure how seriously to take it, when it seems like one of those flux-in-the-aether things."
"Well, the fluxes in the aether are real and should be taken seriously too," Irratino said, but he sounded more subdued than usual. He sank heavily against the railing; Logico's hand twitched, ready to haul him back if need be. "I think it's normal, Logico. Feelings change. Or so I hear."
"You hear?"
"I wouldn't really know myself." Irratino shrugged. His face was strangely difficult to read, even with the hair swept out of the way. "I haven't been in love with many people."
The queasy feeling was back, curling round Logico's stomach. Not for the first time, Logico wished he could make sure Irratino was speaking either the truth or a lie. He seemed extraordinarily good at statements that fell somewhere in between.
"Could they change that quickly, though?" Logico pressed.
"Well, maybe it's not a total change." Irratino was gazing out into the distance, expression still inscrutable. "Maybe the feelings were there already, and the person just didn't realize it. Until something brought them to the surface."
Logico contemplated this.
"I don't think that's possible," he declared. "I think I—" His tongue felt clumsy all of a sudden. "I think someone would know. If they were in love."
Irratino laughed, and finally turned to look at him again, a weary smile crinkling his eyes. "Of course you would say that."
This was barely a rebuttal, and Logico would usually pounce on it — but somehow, with Irratino's lips curved in that fond smile, and the setting sun weaving streaks of light into his hair, the words seemed to clog Logico's throat. He sighed and wrenched his eyes away, striking up a staring contest with a pigeon instead. "This is why I prefer tangible evidence," he muttered. "Statements get so messy."
"I'll remember that," Irratino said, and Logico could hear the smile still in his voice.
4
"Can we eat now?" Logico asked impatiently, eyeing the spread they'd bought from the farmer's market. One of the best things about investigating with Irratino was his willingness to pay for meals. And they weren't even poisoned, most of the time. Logico had no idea if this one was, because Irratino had been busy patting down his own jacket, with increasing desperation, for the past five minutes.
"Hold on, I know it was right here—" Irratino turned another pocket inside out, and then shook out his sleeves, disgorging a cascade of crumpled papers, candle stubs, and — were those vials of blood? — before stripping off his jacket completely. He then began to rummage through an array of tiny pockets cunningly concealed in the lining. Logico was quite proud of himself for observing this, even with the distracting glide of Irratino's muscles under his shirt. "If I use the dowsing rod — ah! There it is!"
He lifted his hand towards Logico, beaming. Something small glittered in his palm. "What do you think?"
Logico stared for a long moment, before reluctantly admitting, "I've never seen a clue like this."
"I know," Irratino said, with none of the smugness Logico had expected. He gently cupped his hands around Logico's, letting the small object roll into Logico's palm. "It's a decoder ring."
Logico examined the jumble of letters on the ring, waiting for something about this situation to click into intelligibility. It was a perfect day, as it always was in the old English village. The sun was shining. The birds were warbling. The summer air was filled with the scents of the herbs and flowers in full bloom. Their delicious picnic lunch lay around them, still uneaten because of... whatever was going on here.
"It's for you," Irratino said. His hands were still warm and steady around Logico's as he leaned in, face aglow with anticipation for something Logico couldn't place.
"It's very nice," Logico said. His voice came out hoarser than he'd expected. "Thank you?"
Irratino gazed intently into his face for a while more — Logico could feel every puff of breath like a caress against his cheek — before he abruptly let go and collapsed backwards into the grass. Logico jerked towards him reflexively, before remembering that it couldn't be poison. They hadn't yet eaten any of the food.
"Tangible evidence, he said!" Irratino exclaimed, staring up at the pristine azure sky. Logico had no idea who he was talking to. "So much for tangible evidence!"
Logico fell back on practicalities, as he always did when completely baffled by Irratino. "Do you have one too?" he asked. "We could write coded notes to each other."
Irratino theatrically drew his hand across his face. "Never mind. Let's just eat."
5
In retrospect, Logico supposed he should have known better than to trust an organization called The Glittering Brotherhood of the Free Blood. Especially when their allegedly top-secret note did not appear to have actually been encoded at all. Still, how was he to expect that criminals might be working together? That wasn't criminal behavior, that was more like him and — Irratino.
Logico's chest tightened. He was supposed to be seeing that new play with Irratino right now. Hopefully Irratino realized something was wrong when he didn't show up, but even so, Logico doubted there was anything Irratino could really do to find him in time. He had been bundled inside the trunk of this car for a while now, and it had been speeding over relatively smooth surfaces — most likely a highway, followed by a bridge. They were probably driving to a secluded island to dump his corpse.
The gag was making it awfully hard to breathe. He rolled over, trying not to lie on his bound hands, and inhaled the air of the trunk. It was musty, and rapidly getting more and more stale. If they didn't reach the destination soon, he might just suffocate in here.
He wondered what his obituary would say. "A detective with magnificent eyebrows has been murdered"? Maybe they would get a quote from Irratino, commenting on the loss of his rival, antagonist, and friend.
This was not helping. Logico worked his jaw furiously, trying to force the gag out, and propelled his mind down more productive channels: what he would say as soon as the trunk was opened, in order to appeal to his abductors' better natures — though he doubted they had any. Perhaps you should reconsider the notion of Free Blood. I think blood shouldn't be free because it's valuable. And I also think blood shouldn't be free because it should be kept inside my body where it belongs. That's only logical.
That speech probably wouldn't appeal to anyone except Irratino. Irratino liked puns. He always seemed delighted by Logico's, at least, no matter how feeble they were.
Irratino.
Logico squeezed his eyes tightly shut. This wasn't helping either.
But his mind kept returning to the same spot, like a wanderer coming again and again across familiar old ruins, and Logico finally caved to the inevitable. If he couldn't stop thinking about Irratino, then — what would Irratino do here?
And like a flash of lightning, like the sudden jolt which ran through him whenever Irratino turned to smile at him, Logico knew the answer.
The car came to a halt at last. Logico could hear footsteps approaching the trunk. Then the lid opened. He did his best not to twitch at the light spilling in.
"He's not moving," one of the Glittering Brothers said.
"Well, we tied him up," another said.
"No, it's not that," a third voice cut in. "He doesn't look like he's breathing either."
"Definitely not breathing," a fourth voice concurred. Logico felt a twinge of hope. He was lying so still he would make Irratino proud.
"What!" shrieked a fifth voice — how many people had they crammed into this car? "How is he dead! We haven't even done anything!"
Logico's nose had begun to itch horribly. He had no idea how Irratino was so good at this.
There was an urgent flurry of conversation. Logico tried to pick out some of it.
"We can't do anything now," the second voice said sullenly. "The blood isn't free if it's already stopped."
"Maybe we could stretch a point—"
"No!" the fifth voice screeched. "That's heresy!"
Logico really wished they would just dump his body already so he could scratch his nose.
And then hands were seizing him, and he was being hastily lifted across a stretch of crunching gravel, and suddenly he was swinging through the air with a horrible jerk—
Oh no. He'd forgotten about the cliffs. At least the jagged rocks would break his fall.
"Halt!" thundered a familiar voice. "Or I'll cast the blood strictures on you!"
Logico's eyes flew open. A figure stood in the road, silhouetted against the glare of the headlights, but he would know it anywhere. His heart leapt.
"No!" all five cultist voices wailed in chorus. "Not the blood strictures!"
Logico slammed into the gravel hard, all the air rushing out of him. His toes were dangling over the cliff edge, and he squirmed away. Dizzily, he spotted five figures in sparkling lamé cloaks as they piled back into a tiny car and tore off down the road — and then all his attention was caught by Irratino dashing towards him.
How did you find me, he was about to gasp, as Irratino's shaking hands pulled the loose gag from his mouth — but then all those words were stopped by Irratino's lips on his.
Irratino's lips were so warm, and his fingers were almost as hot where they clutched Logico's face, trembling but firm against his skin. Logico's head whirled, sparks igniting and racing along every nerve. Maybe his blood was free now. It all seemed to be rushing to his face, as desperate to press itself into Irratino's touch as he was. He felt like he was hurtling through the air once again, and this time, he flung himself headlong into it.
After some time, when they had reluctantly come up to breathe, Logico finally remembered to ask, "How did you find me?"
"The cards told me," Irratino replied.
"Of course you would say that," Logico sighed, and wound his fingers into Irratino's hair and reeled him in again.
+1
Logico opened his eyes, and was struck by a burst of incandescent happiness, so ferocious and unexpected that it was like an explosion in his chest. Pure bliss had wiped clean every corner of his brain; it took him a while to even remember what had happened.
He lay in bed, piecing the picture together slowly. There were clues that had been left behind. The lingering warmth on the other side of the bed. A long dark hair on the pillow. The scent of coffee, sweeter than he usually preferred, wafting through the door that stood ajar.
Logico took his time getting dressed. When he went out, Irratino was sitting on the steps outside, of course, drinking coffee in the pale gold sunlight. His hair was still tousled; Logico had the urge to run his fingers through it. So he did exactly that.
Irratino gave him a drowsy smile, along with a mug of coffee. They sat on the steps for a while, watching the neighborhood stir to life. Logico sipped his coffee. He enjoyed it more than he'd expected.
"You know," Irratino said, after Logico had slowly drained the mug, "I can read the future in coffee dregs."
"Really," Logico said. He pressed the mug into Irratino's hand; their fingers laced together and stayed there. "And what do you see in mine?"
Irratino barely glanced down. His gaze was soft and languid as the morning light. "Oh, nothing surprising. A leisurely breakfast, and then going back to bed. I'll be there too."
"That does sound nice," Logico said, leaning against Irratino and feeling slow warmth suffuse him from head to toe. "For how long, though? Murder never stops."
"It's Sunday," Irratino murmured, low and amused in his ear. "It may take a while."