Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Well that was satisfying,” Dad says rubbing his stomach. 

“Nothing says victory quite like dismembering a crustacean,” I concur.

Mac scrunches her nose, “I prefer my successes sans the lobsta-cide, but I get the gist.”

Shaking his head disapprovingly, Wallace chimes in, “Girl, you and your vegetarian tastebuds don’t know how much they don’t know about how wrong they are."

“Indubitably,” Dad and I say in unison, then subsequently cry, “Jinx!” competing animatedly for a five-count. Annoyingly Dad beats me to the punch and I scowl in the self-imposed silence of defeat.

Wallace eyes us skeptically, “How old are you two again?” I’d think he’d be accustomed to the Mars family antics by now. 

“Questioning our maturity?” Dad feigns offense. “Tread lightly Wallace, I feel like someone’s gunning for their long standing invitation to the Mars Investigations celebratory dinners to be revoked.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up. Not so much ‘questioning your maturity’ as, you know…” Wallace fake-ponders for a half second before admitting, “Nope, yup, definitely questioning your maturity,” with a grin and Mac giggles. He splays his palms out in supplication, “But come on now, how you gonna play a brother like that?” 

I roll my eyes at them.

Goobs.

Muteness aside, I myself am in an undeniably good mood. Surrounded by loved ones amidst their aimless chitchat, basking in the glow of recent vocational accomplishment, and feeling the true reward for a job well done eking out over the horizon: two week’s of vacation stretching out before me with absolutely nothing on the agenda. Nothing that is, except the perfect companion to luxuriate with: my Navy boyfriend home on leave. The promise is incapable of not putting an extra jaunt in my step. My palms are practically itching with anticipation.

Let the countdown to bliss properly commence…

I'm thinking tomorrow can’t possibly come soon enough, when suddenly, I think it has. There's a lightly dressed figure climbing out of a cab in front of the office. It's a blurry vision a hundred and fifty yards in the distance, but it stops me, stock-still in my tracks. 

“Logan?” I lob into the dark, my voice patently hopeful. 

Rationally though, I know it can’t be Logan; he’s not even supposed to dock on US soil for another 13 hours. Then it begins to dawn on me: in my eagerness to have Logan home, I’ve just interrupted the conversation of my father and friends, mid-stride no-less, to stare wistfully into the distance at someone who cannot possibly be my boyfriend.

Whoa, Nellie. Get it together Mars.

My father drags me back to reality by pinching my arm and I shriek appropriately, giving him an annoyed swat.

Dad chuckles. “That was a pathetically short-lived win honey. Next time try not to daydream, huh? Fifteen feet? I didn’t even get a chance to polish my victory crown." 

Just when I’m on the cusp of total embarrassment and scrounging for a non sequitur, my attention is drawn back to the man in the distance. The slope of his shoulders is too specific, as is the curve of his neck as he rights himself; pulling an expansive, oblong bag from the trunk.

Logan.

Before I can form a conscious thought, I’m off, Logan’s name echoing in my ears. I must have shouted it, but I couldn’t quite tell you for sure. What I am sure of is that as he turns towards me, untucking his garrison cap from his arm and grinning at me like a kid on Christmas, I’m making double time, sprinting down the block before launching myself at him. Then he spins me and my mind spins out, deliciously blank. 

Coming back to myself, I foggily remember kissing Logan’s mouth and his face; I can definitely taste him on my lips, but for now all I’m aware of is the solidity of his body against mine; my legs around his hips, his broad forearms wrapped generously around my back, and the sweet, heady smell of his aftershave permeating my senses. I can’t help but sigh into it before pulling back to kiss him again, long and deep.

Gasping for breath, I rest my forehead against his in blissed-out contentment. "You're here,” I say with wonder.

"Surprise," he grins and I beam.

"Best. Ever.”

As everyone else approaches, Dad clears his throat and Logan casually stiffens. "Am I grabbing your ass in front of you father,” he whispers.

"'Fraid so, sweet cheeks,” I rib, too giddy to care.

Logan gives me a look as if to say, My ‘sweet cheeks’ aren’t the ones I’m concerned about, and what I’m sure he hopes is a visually imperceptible squeeze for good measure before beginning to relinquish me. "You couldn't have warned you're best fella?”

"Wasn't my priority,” I say, kissing him again quick before sliding down his body as gracefully as I can. Taking his hand, I sidle up to his hip, bouncing on my toes as we face our audience.

“Logan, welcome home.” Dad reaches out his hand with a smile. “Based on the pendulum swing of Veronica's increasingly dogged and distracted behavior, we weren't expecting you until tomorrow.” 

“No kidding. With no more case to laser her focus, she must have said ‘What?’ like seventeen times at dinner,” Mac muses, giving Logan a hug and obviously enjoying my rueful glare.

What is this? Open season?

“Girl’s always been a marshmallow, but now I’m afraid she’s officially going soft,” Wallace teases giving Logan a handshake of his own while clapping him on the forearm.

Apparently so.

I feel my cheeks flush in annoyance and Logan eyes me with a bashful smirk. He squeezes my hand a little tighter.

“So how are you home so soon Logan? Did your boat dock early?” Mac questions, then rethinks. “Can your boat dock early?”

“Ship,” I correct my friend, knowing every fibre of Logan’s Navy pedigree is itching to do so. Our eyes meet quickly in solidarity before he explains.

”The carrier docks tomorrow as planned. One of the other aviators was grounded last minute though, so they gave me his slot to fly in this afternoon.” 

I’m frightfully aware I’m glowing up at him when I say, “Remind me to send him a thank you; possibly the world’s biggest fruit basket.”

“Will do,” he replies, and at least he’s smiling embarrassingly wide at me as well.

Fair is fair, flyboy.

Then suddenly I realize, “Wait, why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I promise I tried, but I only found out today. I called, but it rang through to voicemail.”

I frown as I remember the shattered fragments that were once my phone. “Unfortunately, my cell is currently in what might be called a 'disassembled state’. I was going to get it replaced tomorrow morning before I picked you up.” I turn my face up towards his with disappointment and Logan is better able to examine it in the glare of the streetlights. I see him recognize the abrasion with light bruising clearly now where he had previously missed it in the dark. He cradles my cheek with budding concern. “The embezzlement case?”

“Yup.”

Wordlessly I let him know I’m alright, and thankfully he doesn’t press the issue at least for the moment. What he does do though is ask, “You take ‘em down?”

I love that question. 

“Hard," I reply with what I'm sure is a sharp glint of satisfaction in my eyes.

“Good,” he says, a gleam of pride in his.

“Good is right, I thought she was going to implode if she didn’t finish this case before you got home.” Mac jovially teases, followed immediately by a failed attempt to stifle a massive yawn. “Oh, ‘scuse me! Remind me again why I thought indentured servitude to my BFF was a valid career choice?”

I shrug my shoulders. “The glory? The front row tickets to crazy town? The precarious balance on the edge of financial destitution? Take your pick pal.”

Mac clasps her hands together with a sleepy smile, ”But they're all so glamorous, however will I choose?”

“I’m partial to the complete lack of dental, but that’s just me,” offers Dad with a nudge.

Suddenly, muffled barking rings out from the darkened second story windows along with frantic rapping of nails on glass. Wallace’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, not as used to the antics. “Jeeze Louise, someone’s eager all of a sudden.”

“That my girl?” Logan asks, with a youthful exuberance that makes me side-hug him involuntarily.

Steel, Veronica. Do not swoon in public. You’re losing hardboiled badass brownie points at every turn here.

“Little lady hates to be left out of a party. I’ll go let her out,” Dad offers.

“Thanks Pops,” I say before turning back towards Logan. “How’d you even know I’d be here. The lights aren’t on in the office.”

“Well let’s see, huge financially and retributively important case that’s been plaguing you for four months still remained unsolved as of four days ago.” He cocks his head to the side. “Wild guess. Plus, you know, I saw your car in the lot. Leone’s was my next stop,” he adds with a wink.

I chuckle, “I guess some of that gum of mine has rubbed off onto those garrison shoes of yours, huh?”

We just smirk at each other in response.

Perfectly punctuating the moment, Pony bursts forth from the office front door, pulling her leash free from Dad’s grip, a black blur of eager excitement.

The massive puppy proceeds to run in circles around Logan and I, jumping and barking enthusiastically. She’s bounding up and down when she plants both front paws right on Logan’s torso, kissing his face with fervor. Logan laughs and even though I’m thoroughly enjoying the sight, I do my best to intervene. “Pony,” I admonish. “Pony, sit. Pony, down!"

She loses her balance and falls off Logan for a moment, but undeterred, blatantly ignores me and springs back up like a champ.

“Pony, sit,” Logan says in a warm, stern voice and the puppy immediately obeys, waggling her body to and fro, awaiting release from her invisible prison. 

“Daddy’s girl,” I say perturbed, then lock eyes with Logan who’s teeming with mirth while petting Pony's enormous skull.

“Takes after her mother."

“You think it’s funny now. You won’t feel so warm and tingly when you see the state of our furniture.” I chide, fully expecting him to return my smile, but instead I find his demeanor laced with hesitation.

“Um, speaking of warm and tingly…” Logan says rubbing his lips with mild concern.

“Oh, god!” I pale suddenly, rife with mortification as I clamp my hand over my mouth, “I ate lobster!”

“Well that would do it,” he says smacking his lips with a mild grimace and I literally feel ill.

“Mac, where’s your Claritin?” I ask hastily. Mac scrounges in her purse to produce the pills she uses to to keep her occasional Pony-induced sniffles at bay while I frantically dig a water bottle out of my own studded leather bag and thrust it at Logan. 

Dad, Wallace, and Mac all begin to get appropriately worried due to my reaction.

“Veronica, I’m sure I’m fine,” Logan says with a slightly scratchy voice, attempting to dissipate my concern to very little avail.

“Says the man who last ate shellfish when he was seven because it put him in the hospital for two days. Here,” I say shucking the pills from their casing and handing him a double dose. “Eat. Drink. Swallow.”

“So bossy,” he says amused, but compliant, taking a swig.

“Damn straight. I can’t have my man come back from war unscathed, only to be done in by my kisses." 

“Pretty much always the case, shellfish or no shellfish, but I take your point,” Logan says with obvious affection and I mellow, still doing my best not to swoon and failing miserably. He kisses me on the temple knowingly, then addresses the group, “So I take it I was right then, Mama Leone’s was the establishment of choice?”

“Indeed you are. We’d offer you our leftovers, but well, you’ve seen this one eat,” Dad says with a smile gesturing towards me, then Wallace adds a serious, “and apparently they could kill you.”

“I appreciate the sentiment nonetheless,” Logan says with a head bob. Then, noticing Dad is sporting some minor wounds of his own, adds, “Speaking of danger, it seems like you guys had quite the showdown. You alright, Mr. Mars?"

“Oh, you know us Mars’.” Dad lifts his gauze wrapped hand to boast, “Teflon tuff.”

“The competition? Only stainless,” I add, aiding in the deflection. “Never stood a chance.”

“The case really broke yesterday. We just needed all our ducks in a row before picking them off,” Mac says, finger-gun action included.

“Oof, that’s cold,” Wallace jests with an exaggerated shiver. “Anybody else need a jacket up in here?”

“You do the crime, MI will make you pay the fine,” she replies to him with a smile, holding her hands up with faux-gangster moxie. “What can I tell ya?” she knocks him with her shoulder. Then it seems like Logan catches her eye, but she shakes her head like she’s warning him off something.

Weird.

“You know, that isn't actually our motto, but it could be,” Dad says with a laugh.

“Yeah, it’s ‘MI will make you do the time’,” I correct and Dad looks at me. “No? Seriously? ‘Cause I just put the order in for the new letterhead—,” I deadpan and he pauses for a millisecond, fooled, even if ever so momentarily.

Ha! Gotcha old man!

Dad glowers at me and I gloat briefly before continuing to fill Logan in. “The bad guys were hauled in just this morning. Following that, you missed a rousing day of turning over evidence and finishing oodles of paperwork." 

“Oodles?” Logan muses. 

“Ooooddles.”

“My timing sounds positively providential.” 

“Without a doubt.”

Logan squints at me with curiosity, “So I dying to know, who turned out to be the mastermind behind this murderous little Ponzi scheme?”

“Mrs. Peacock and Colonel Mustard were in cahoots, can you believe it?” I say excitedly without forethought. Those not in the know, namely everyone but Logan, look at me like I’m completely nuts. “So I made my case into game of Clue to amuse my beau during wartime correspondence," I bristle before brushing them off, "What of it?" 

Logan looks pleased as punch. “Darn it, my money was on Professor Plum.”

“Plum was a patsy.”

“See, and here I thought the alliteration made that too obvious." 

Why am I not off somewhere making out with him, again?

“Enough of our Poseidon adventures though,” Dad interrupts, “let’s hear about yours Logan. We haven’t even asked you, how was your trip home?”

Logan clicks his tongue. “Mildly eventful, but nothing of consequence. Honestly, I’m just happy to be back on solid ground. I love my job, but with home in sight, suddenly my bunk feels, well, about as big as it is.” 

“I can believe it. I'm still impressed by the square footage you boys manage. I mean, we thought we were in close quarters at The Sunset Cliffs, right honey?”

I nod and Logan concludes, “The right company and it certainly ain’t so bad,” squeezing my side.

“Good tour in general too, I hope?” 

Logan gives a small nod, “Very, actually. We got some new technology that’s changing the game, so it’s been interesting to keep up.” 

“What kind of technology we talking?” Wallace asks, and I appreciate it, I do, but I unwittingly picture a back and forth about Hornets and drones; landings, torque, and thrust.

Not really the thrust I’m interested in bud.

Suddenly I find myself clapping involuntarily, interjecting, and everyone looks at me expectantly.

"Oh yeah, no. This," I gesture back and forth between the group, abruptly aggravated by the night’s pleasantries, "not happening. I haven't seen him for months.” I roll my eyes, “For the love; enough with chitchat!” 

Logan raises his eyebrows at me, mildly shocked, yet apparently thoroughly charmed by my total loss of patience. He turns back to my friends, “I could be wrong, but I believe that’s my directive to bid you all a good evening.” 

“And I bet you thought your days of taking orders were on a respite.” Dad says.

Logan is working his jaw to suppress his amusement at the mere thought when I level an index finger at him. “You, shush.” 

“Yes, dear,” Logan replies smartly just to get my goat. I move to covertly wiggle my finger in his ribcage while he attempts to remain the consummate sailor. “Quit it,” he murmurs under his breath amused when I cease to desist, instead staring at him with glee. 

Dad pipes in, “Well, if nothing else we’re looking forward to seeing you two at movie night on Thursday,” then addresses Logan again, “We picked Mary Poppins. Veronica says you’re a fan?”

“Indubitably,” Logan answers back without hesitation.

Before he has a chance to figure out why everyone is staring at him with amused faces, or anyone can possibly start another conversation, I grab Pony’s leash and place it in Logan’s grasp commanding, “Pony, car.” Finally listening to me, she instantaneously bolts forward, dragging him along with crazy force in the direction of the parking lot. 

Logan resists only to have his shoes skid along the pavement. “Christ! Are we sure we didn’t adopt an actual horse?” he says, grabbing his bag before it's out of reach.

"Night everyone!" I announce as I steal the bag of leftovers from Mac's hand and raise it up, victorious. “Thank you!”

“Hey! That’s my breakfast!”

“I’m commandeering it. My man’s gonna need sustenance!”

Dad blanches and Mac squigs. “TMI!”

“Breakfast?” Wallace says, bewildered by the thought of fettuccine Alfredo first thing in the morning.

“Don’t knock it 'til you try it, Fennell.”

“Same could be said for lobster, MacKenzie,” I hear him singsong just before we’re out of earshot.

——— 

Logan and I round the corner of the parking lot and we make it to the car before he swoops in to kiss me again. I’m quick to submit, caught up in the moment before I remember my lobster breath and good sense gets the best of me. I push him back firmly, unnerved by our carelessness. “Seriously, quit it,” I try to lay down the law. “If we have to spend the night in the E.R., I shall be very put out.” 

“A little anaphylaxis seems like a small price to pay, but alright Humperdinck,” he concedes with a quick peck before I can evade him, “have it your way, but my way’s a lot more fun.” 

I glare at him, genuine concern mulling in my stomach.

“I feel fine. I promise,” he says sincerely and I feel better. 

Hilariously Pony is curled up at our feet, content as can be. When we look down at her she rolls over with delight, showing her tummy. Immediately we both make what can only be described as a soft cooing sounds and then we eye each other, slightly horrified.

“She is definitely not good for our reputations,” he laments.

“How are people supposed to believe we’re badasses with these kind of shenanigans going down?” 

He turns to me with a smile and it’s so clear he wants to kiss me that I have to raise up my hands in protest to curb the impulse. “Uh uh, back up you. Danger, Will Robinson, Danger!”

He steps closer anyway, dipping down at the knees a bit, enticing me. “But I just thought of something relevant to the mission, Commander.”

I am a sucker for him, so I continue to play along. “Oh yeah, Lieutenant, what’s that?”

“Just cause you can't kiss me,” he leans closer, “doesn't mean I can't kiss you.” Before I can fully process, he’s already got my leg hitched over his hip and my back pressed against the driver’s side door; his mouth assaulting my neck and his hand dragging up my thigh. 

I gasp audibly and any real protest dies on my lips, but I have to admit, “This hardly seems fair.” Pressing my mouth together, I roll my forehead into his shoulder, desperately, trying not to taste him.

“And since when is life fair?” he murmurs between licking and sucking and I moan.  

“Unless you plan on finishing what you're starting, right here, right now—” 

“I'm happy to oblige.”

“Ah, my eyes!,” we hear accompanied by an awkward stumble beside us. Momentarily panic stricken, I peer over Logan’s shoulder to find my male best friend still mid-flinch. 

“It’s only Wallace,” I relax a bit, then impulsively kid with an evil edge in my voice, “Feel free to resume landing Lieutenant.” 

“Oh man, come on guys, have a little mercy. My retinas don’t need this kind of assault!” Wallace makes a hasty retreat, shielding his face and I chortle.

“He parked around the corner,” Logan states the obvious.

“Yup. I might have remembered that if someone wasn’t intent on short circuiting my higher brain function. Speaking of, before you reassess flight patterns," I stroke his muscled shoulders appreciatively, "I should mention Dad just turned off the light in the office and his car is parked around said corner too.”

Logan pulls back, dropping me to the ground, and smooths my blouse with a sigh of restraint. “Home it is then,” he declares with tilt of his chin, opening my car door, “M’lady.”

“Come on flyboy, don’t look so glum. I’ll take you home on the backstreets.”

———

Once on the road, we're enjoying the quiet hum of the drive when Logan muses “Wallace and Mac seem good,” seemingly out of nowhere. 

“Yeah, I guess. Same old, same old. Her new-new hair’s pretty kick-ass though, don’t you think?”

“Mm hm,” Logan inarticulates, then suddenly chuckles beside me and I wonder what I’ve missed. 

“What?”

“Apparently we’re giving Pony quite the show,” he informs. 

“Show?”

I glance up to find Pony in the rearview, her head pinging between Logan and I at a hilariously clipped pace.

“Chill baby, you’re going to give yourself a crick,” I say giggling and look over at Logan again. “Is there even such a thing as a canine chiropractor?” 

“We live in Neptune, Veronica; There’s a good chance there are multiple.”

“Only the best for our Pony,” I say doing my best Robin Leach, then give him another lingering glance. His hand strays toward me and I eagerly expect it to rest on my thigh or reach out to hold my hand. Instead, it grazes past me to guide the steering wheel and I quickly realize, the car itself, away from the curb. 

“Eyes on the road, Bobcat.” 

I shake my head, a little embarrassed, but roll my eyes at his self-satisfied grin. “Not all of us are used to piloting heavy machinery under emotionally heightened circumstances Lieutenant. Care to relinquish me from duty?”

“Nope.” He sits back, smiling at me broadly. “I’m enjoying the view.”

Smug bastard. I really should have made him drive.

After I more cautiously steal a few additional glances in his direction, I break our comfortable silence.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t get your call.”

“S’okay.” 

“I wanted to pick you up.”

“No worries.” 

“I could have seen you fly in.”

“You’ve seen it before.”

“I could have seen you in your flight suit.” I toss him a little lascivious look and it doesn't go unappreciated; his eyes flash. 

“You’ll get another chance.”

More seriously, I take note, “We could have seen each other hours earlier.” 

“You’re seeing me like 12 hours earlier. Quit complaining,” he chides with a smile.

I smile back. “12 hours and 43 minutes. I’m not complaining. I just wished I'd checked my voicemail.”

“I didn’t leave a voicemail.” 

“What? Why not?”

“Surprising you is fun.”

I side-eye the heck out of him. “Surprising me leads to crustacean kisses. Beware the element of surprise.”

“I’ve always known you'd be the death of me.”

“Not. Funny,” I say sternly.

“A little funny,” he smirks and I try my darnedest not to too.

———

Once we reach our Dog Beach apartment building, I immediately beeline to the bathroom to brush my teeth and gargle. When I realize Logan hasn’t followed me in, I go to find him, a mouth filled with toothbrush and foam. I give him a properly exasperated look when I find him plugging in his phone, but he just grins at me: big and dopey. Unfortunately I have to make a hasty retreat when I start to return it, the threat of minty dribble imminent. I can hear him laughing as I sputter and run. “Get in here!” I yell bent over the sink. 

“Yes, dear,” he replies from behind me as I pop up, drooling.

Not exactly the sexy homecoming I had in mind. 

He hands me a towel with a smirk and kisses my neck before settling in at the counter. Logan’s quick though; he finishes his routine and leaves me to finish up mine with another kiss on the temple. 

When I finally enter the bedroom, he’s sitting barefoot in his undershirt at the edge of the bed, Pony nestled between his legs. He's giving her a belly rub and there are murmurs of baby talk. Smiling at the sight, I pull off my own footwear and crawl up the mattress to settle behind him, wrapping my arms around his midsection. Logan sits up a bit, wrapping one arm around mine as I press my body against his side, resting my chin into his shoulder. My lips curl as they press against his freckled skin and I kiss him there, just because I can.

He observes me for a moment before Pony gives a small whine, demanding attention.

“So is She-Hulk here done growing yet or what?”

“Not quite,” I squeak out, "still got maybe 20 pounds to go."

Logan shoots me a rather mortified glance before sizing Pony up. “I was the dog novice and you played me for a fool. Last time I trust you to determine the size of our young’ns.” 

“Please, our kids better take after me. Popple-sized people popping out are terrifying enough. If the first one’s all your height and lanky limbs, I may have to close down shop then and there."

Logan doesn’t look at me, but his voice is warm and curious when he responds, "That so.”

I roll my cheek into his shoulder, avoiding. More than content to ignore the monumental weight of my statement if he's willing, I try shifting focus back to the puppy. "She missed you," I comment, watching Pony unabashedly relish a ear rub from him, burying her muzzle into his lap.

Logan’s mouth lilts sweetly to one side. “Tell you the truth, I was pretty worried she wouldn't recognize de-digitalized me.” 

We’d both been impressed Pony had ever recognized him through Skype at all. He'd left after such a relatively short time together and Pony had been so young. We’d kiddingly argued over which of us she’d inherited her smarts from. Then we’d sappily acknowledged we'd become those people, but neither of us had really seemed to mind.

“Please, I show her Daddy’s picture and tell her bed time stories every night. Baby knows who provides her favorite chew toys,” I smirk, gesturing to under the nightstand.

Logan glances over to see his best dress shoes reduced to a congealed, hole-ridden mess. Leaning over, he picks up one of the mangled hunks of leather with humorous disgust and addresses Pony, “Now tell the truth, did Mommy give you these?”

Pony barks and licks his nose happily.

“Tattletale.” I wag my finger at her and receive a lick of my own.

“Well maybe this will distract her, at least for tonight.” Logan gets up and reaches into his duffle bag procuring a bone the size of Pony’s skull with a waggle of his eyebrows. He then leads the puppy, drooling with excitement, out to her dog bed in the living room. 

“Did you seriously stop to get that before you came to the office?” I call after him with disbelief.

Logan reenters the bedroom, leaning into the doorframe, a lazy grin on his face. “Preemptively before I deployed, but yeah.” 

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Gotta take care of my girl.”

“No wonder she likes you best.”

“Please, it’s all an act to keep you on your toes and her in treats. Nobody likes me best." 

“I like you best,” I say with a sudden flush. 

Logan pauses then, and I know he’s taking in the eager sight of me up on the bed; perched on my knees, eyes shimmering with glee at the presence of him. The joy and the lust in his eyes skitters through me like a drug. 

"God, I missed you,” he says and I bite my lip. I watch him steady himself with a deep, ragged breath, then quietly close the door relegating Pony to the hall. Her muffled whine can be heard behind him as he stalks towards me, taking my head into his hands and devouring my mouth.

“Thought you had to take care of your girl?” I say breathless. 

“‘Bout to,” he promises and it’s so damn sexy. 

Only problem is, I’m so damn giddy he’s here. I keep smiling into his mouth.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I say, resuming our make out, but am unable to stifle another grin and a giggle as I scoop my tongue against his and he ‘mmmm’s against my lips.

“What?” he chuckles.

I drag him closer, “Just keep kissing me.”

“That I can do.” 

———

Later, when we’re cozied up in a heavenly tangle of limbs and sheets, I shiver against him. 

“You cold?” Logan asks wrapping his arms around me more tightly, warming my skin.

“Nope,” I say burrowing deeper, kissing his chest absentmindedly. Then I smile shyly into his skin with realization, “Happy.” 

A dozen Lloyd Dobler deflections spring to mind, but as he tugs me closer, I just let them drift away. Holding onto him, I laze contentedly until I feel a small trickle of moisture against my scalp. I crane my neck up to inspect his face only to find him wiping glassy eyes.

“Sorry."

“What's wrong?” I stroke his cheek.

“Nothing." He gives me a tight mouthed, embarrassed smile. “Happy.”

Undeniably affected, I turn in his arms to square my face to his, kissing him in reply; soft and sweet and full of intention. My eyes now glassy too, we both smile as I snuggle back down, pressing the full length of my body against his, crossing our limbs.

After another wave of bliss washes over me, I whisper hesitantly into the silence, “Logan?"

"Hm?" 

"This is good.” 

“Shhh,” he hushes into my hair and I know exactly what he means: 'Don’t jinx it.'

I squeeze him tighter.

We won’t.

Chapter Text

Following an alternatively sluggish and rousing morning, the couple is famished and finally leaves the sanctuary of bed to search out food. Veronica puts on a pot of coffee while Logan goes to raid the fridge. The only edible thing he finds is Mac’s fettuccine so he grabs it and swipes two forks from the drawer. Having pried the lobster logo adorned lid from the pasta, he's eagerly poised to mount a bite when Veronica unceremoniously sideswipes the container, pinging it straight into the trash bin.

Logan looks up in surprise to find Veronica wide-eyed, but resolute in her impetuous decision. “Let’s order in.”

He grabs her robe ties and hauls her close, letting the moment settle. “Deal,” he says before kissing her mouth very deliberately, careful to be fully appreciative of her protectiveness over him. He then grabs his phone off the counter and opens the Seamless app. “So where should we order from… Señor Shrimp or The Crab Shanty?”

Rightfully, this earns him a groan from Veronica followed by an annoyed, disaffected shove. She twists out of his arms and he trails after her undeterred.

“The Clawsters then? Crustaceans Crustaceans?

He recaptures her and she pouts in frustration, “Why the hell do we live on the coast?”

“‘Cause we like to live on the edge?” he kids with a smirk.

“You’re the worst.”

“But I think you’re the best.”

“Someone’s gotta make fighter pilot sized hamster balls,” she complains, disgruntled by her own worry.

He furrows his brow, unfamiliar with her reference, but charmed all the same. “Sounds precarious for take off and therefore counterproductive to your mission, but we can look into it.”

“Now you’re just placating me.”

“Yes, dear,” he says leading her backwards back to bedroom.

“Logan, food.”

“Already ordered from the diner.”

“Don’t you want a snack until it comes?”

“That’s what I’m getting,” he chides, untying her robe as he pushes her to the bed, sinking to his knees.

Veronica lays back indulgently, fingers encouragingly trailing against his scalp until suddenly she shoots up and pulls him up by the hair, “What if’s still in my system?”

Logan has to look at her a little bit like she’s crazy, because at this point he kinda thinks she very well may be. “The lobster?” She nods. “Seriously?” She nods. “Don’t you think I’d be symptomatic at this point? I sampled this…” he runs his hands up her thighs with a sigh, “particular treat multiple times last night. I can personally vouch for its contribution to my overall wellbeing.”

Veronica scrunches up her face, her own ridiculousness dawning on her. “It could have been… slow to metabolize?” she bites out through gritted teeth, painfully aware of how ludicrous she sounds, but repeats herself all the same, “It could still be in my system.”

Logan doesn’t even bother to respond, he just gets up to head back to the kitchen.

“Where are you going?”

“To find you a real snack. You’re a little too off your game. It’s disconcerting.”

She huffs in annoyance and flops back on the bed. “I just love you, that’s all.”

He stops abruptly and spins on his heal, comically wiggling his finger in his ear. “I’m sorry, my blood sugar must be affecting my hearing. Répétez, s'il vous plaît?” Veronica Mars is never that casual in her affection.

A little embarrassed, she feigns nonchalance with a wave of her hand, “Oh, you heard me.”

He tackles her and she bubbles over with laughter between kisses.

“Don’t I get my snack?” she wonders halfheartedly.

“Nah, I like you this way.”

He’s still chuckling when she abruptly pauses and turns to him in all seriousness, “What if you were only asymptomatic because the Claritin hadn’t worn off yet?”

Pony trots over to see what all the fuss is about and Logan looks into her sweet, furry face with concern. “Bad news, baby girl; Mommy’s gone nuts.”

“Have not!” Veronica protests as Logan drags her back to the kitchen to find the ice-cream he’s sure she’s got rationed in the freezer. “Daddy just likes me weak and pliable,” she laments as he spoon feeds her a bite of Moose Tracks.

Logan rolls his eyes, “As if.”

“Less sass, more spooning, Alicia.”

He hops on the counter and she settles between his legs, watching him dig out a couple extra chucks of fudge; one for him and one for her.

"Hitting the spot."

"Oh I don't know, I could something with a little more protein to hold me over."

She licks the spoon clean and discards it aside, letting it skitter across the counter.

Her iced cream cooled mouth descending upon him, her cool tongue swirling down his rapidly hardening length.

Ten minutes later and with a final swipe of her tongue and a wipe of her thumb across the corner of her self-satisfied grin, she greets him. "Welcome home.”

His face is seriously flushed. ”Gotta say, feeling pretty welcomed.”

“Good.” There’s a knock at the door. "Ooh, perfect timing. Eating my snack made me extra hungry.” Veronica scampers to the door, grabs the food from the questionably aged delivery girl who’s appreciating Logan's bare chest as he assists.

"Lucky you," the delivery girl says with an appreciative purse of her lips.

On another day, Veronica might have given her the stink eye for ogling her man, but not today.
Today she just appreciates the truth of the statement and gives a wide smiled, "Mmhmm," with a nod before closing the door.

Logan and Veronica lay out their smorgasbord of real food and dig in. A healthy sampling of eggs, bacon, sausage and waffles. They feast at the counter to avoid Pony’s curious mouth and once finished, flop on their puppy-nawed couch in a caloric haze.

“We should probably go food shopping at some point soon.”

“Unfortunately that would require clothes.

“Ah yes, but sadly continued sustenance is required. If only to maintain stamina and maximum orgasmal achievement. Verbal acuity be damned.”

“These are lofty goals and may I just add, I approve.”.

“Only have,” she checks the clock, “56 hours until movie night. Gotta make em count.”

“Ah, good, there’s my girl. Brain synapses back to firing at full throttle I see.”

“Oh, I was fully capable. I made perfect sense. It was you who wouldn’t see logic,” she says, indignant.

“Uh huh.”

“Look at me, tummy full to brim and nothing’s changed. I still love you,” she says sucking the last remnants of pancake syrup from her fingers with a put-on, pie-eyed innocence that knocks him flat. She pretends to shrug it off, “And I still think you oughta take another Clari—“

He cuts her off with a glorious kiss.

After they break for air, she continues her clueless rouse, “Now what on earth could that have been for?”

“I just love you, that’s all.”

Primed to make a witty comeback, she falters. This pleases him and he can’t help but grin foolishly. She rolls her eyes before dragging him close and nuzzling him softly.

“Wallace was right you know,” Logan murmurs, “you really have gone soft.”

Veronica places a hand over his heart. “Well who's influence is that tough guy?”

“I blame Pony.”

The puppy’s ears perk up at her name, but they both ignore her.

“Likely story.”

"Clearly the culprit. I'm a very good investigator."

"I think my day job's safe."