Sanders Sides One shots

Shakespeare - Logince

Working in the stacks isn't the most entertaining thing in the world, but it helps pay tuition and it gives Logan a break from all of the exuberance of his three suite mates. The peaceful shelves, worn covers and broken spines whispering promises of knowledge and dreams and adventure. The smell of yellowing pages and ink beyond age, of binding glue and the touch of a thousand strangers, each with their own story, their own life.

His phone buzzed at him from his back pocket. Ten o'clock. The end of his shift. He smiled.

No more obligations. Only books.

Running his fingers along the spines of the hundreds of books in the collection, his legs carried him to the poetry section. He always seemed to end up there. Scanning the shelves, he found himself pulling a collection of Shakespeare's sonnets. Cradling the spine in one palm, he opened the book to a random page, mouthing the words as he read, a slight smile of his moving lips.

"When in the chronicles of wasted time/ I see descriptions of the fairest wights,/ And beauty making beautiful old rhyme/ In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights;"

"Thought you'd be down here." Logan jumped at the gentle voice. Speaking of lovely knights... Logan forced his mind not to go there as he stared at Roman. The theater nerd stood before him with an arched eyebrow and sly smirk, hands in the pockets of his dazzlingly white jacket over a ruby shirt.

"What are you doing down here? I would have thought you would be rehearsing lines somewhere."

"We have that group study thing going on upstairs, remember? You're usually so prompt, I figured I'd come find you." Logan just about smacked his palm into his forehead. He'd completely forgotten. "I knew you had an appreciation for poetry, Logan, but I never expected Shakespeare to be a pick of yours. Which one are you reading?" Logan had almost forgotten about the book pressed against his chest.

"106," he finally responded.

"Ah," Roman sight, smiling at something Logan couldn't see. "And, for they look'd but with divining eyes,/ They had not skill enough your worth to sing:/ For we, which now behold these present days,/ Had eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise." Logan's eyes widened at Roman's perfect recollection of the final lines.

"I expected Romeo and Juliet out of you, not Sonnet 106." Roman chuckled at the comment, stepping closer.

"You're not the only one with an appreciation for poetry, Lo. Besides, Shakespeare is my inspiration. I took an entire course based around his work last semester." Logan smiled at the thought, closing the book to replace it on the shelf. "Do you have a favorite?" Logan thought on Roman's question.

"I wouldn't say I have a favorite, I just find iambic pentameter very satisfying to read. Although, I am fond of number 98." Roman nodded along, listening intently. "You?"

"I could never pick a favorite, though I tend to cherry pick lines and such for particular people. For example, for you, I go to sonnet 26." Logan nodded and hummed, not quite remembering that one.

He didn't have to search for a reminder as a hand slid into his, gripping gently.

"Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,/ Haply I think on thee, and then my state,/ Like to the lark at break of day arising/ From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;" Logan almost cried out, gripping at Roman's front as he was suddenly dipped back as though they were dancing. "For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings/ That then I scorn to change my state with kings." Roman's pitch had lowered enough that it rumbled in his chest and throat, his lip still curled into a smirk despite the new undertones of something dark and sensual that Logan had only ever read about.