Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The heart can think of no devotion
Greater than being shore to the ocean,
Holding the curve of one position,
Counting an endless repetition.

~Robert Frost, “Devotion”

As Logan’s body sags into hers, Veronica finds herself struggling to hold him up. Logan has a good seventy plus pounds and ten inches on her, so the struggle is real and one she might lose. He shakes with sobs and clutches her sleeve like a drowning man, and she feels his knees begin to buckle along with her own. She grimaces, wraps her hand around his neck, holding him to her. Veronica just barely hears his words, his whispers between sobs, “She’s gone.”

Any remaining animosity towards Logan falls away in that moment, replaced by heartbreaking empathy. Veronica knows how a mother can hurt you and how the loss of one, even temporarily in her case, can just about break you. And the strangeness of holding Logan becomes secondary to his obvious pain.

Veronica sees movement from the corner of her eye. The hotel clerk is making a phone call. She frowns at the way he keeps darting his eyes at the two of them and then whispering into the phone. Logan makes a choked sound and tries to stand up straight, but she can tell he is in no way done and she runs her hand slowly over his back. He holds on tighter as they slide down onto the couch in a clumsy heap. Veronica notices the things Logan left on the table in front of him. Credit card, receipt, a pen, room key card. She frowns over the last item and leans over just enough to see that the credit card is in his Dad’s name and the receipt is signed by Logan. Room 807. She gasps a little and looks back at the increasingly shifty hotel clerk. He’s off the phone, but now his eyes are cutting from the pair of them to the front door. It doesn’t take more clues for her to realize the bastard probably called someone. Maybe paparazzi to wait outside for the wayward son of Aaron Echolls and his alleged blonde fiancée.

“Damn it.” She breathes it out and Logan tenses. With a shuddering sigh, he lets go of her a little.

“Sorry.” His voice is unrecognizable to Veronica’s ears. No snark, not even a hint of bravado. Just flat. She hears him sniffling quietly, but he doesn’t sit up, head still pressed against her chest.

“What? No, not you, Logan. The...I think we better get out of here. Or at least...” She looks at the key card. Better. She doesn’t want to take him to his house in this shape. Or hers. Neutral territory suits them both much better. Plus, she doesn’t know what to do with Trina’s little tidbits about Logan being abused. She’ll need time to work it out. “Come on.” She stands up and he lets her slide out of his arms, and remains slumped on the couch. His eyes lock on the floor, wet tracks visible on his face. Veronica crouches down in front of Logan, eyes trying to catch his.

Finally, he gives in and lifts them slightly. Swollen and bloodshot, and Veronica can’t remember ever seeing Logan this vulnerable. So broken. It scares her and she feels so helpless. Like he’s falling into too many pieces for her to know how to re-assemble. And somehow watching it happen is making it her job to fix. “Let’s go.” Her voice is soft, gentler than she might have ever spoken to him and something in Logan responds to it. He nods, very slightly, but it’s enough. Veronica takes one hand in hers and he comes to his feet. With the other hand, she sweeps up the items from the table and heads for the elevator.

Logan stumbles a bit behind her, but doesn’t protest her rapid flight to the golden doors. She jabs the button hard, harder than necessary. Veronica glares at the hotel clerk, who quails visibly and starts to shuffle papers in front of him. She then glances up at Logan, whose gaze is locked onto the floor in front of him. His hand in hers has a tremor. A slight squeeze of her hand on his makes him go slightly rigid and Veronica feels him withdraw. She wants to sigh, but holds it in. Logan Echolls is so damn frustrating. Why does she have to hurt for him right now? Why does looking at him make her want to sob, too? Why, even now, does he fight her?

She catches his gaze again. “Logan, wait right here. Don’t move. Got it?” His eyes meet hers and then fall away and Veronica takes it as agreement. Dropping his hand, she strides purposefully over to the pasty-faced hotel clerk. When he sees her coming, he looks around, maybe for an escape route. He’s relieved she can’t see him sweating under his Brooks Brothers suit.

Veronica stops at the counter in front of him, huge grin plastered across her face. When she speaks, it is through gritted teeth. “Listen to me. You call one more person on that phone about him... No, don’t you even look at him. You know who I mean. If you make one more call, I will make it my personal mission in life to makes yours hell. You do not want me to get angry. This?” She points at her face. “This is perturbed. Angry is a whole different zip code from this. Are we clear?” The smile never wavers. Mouth hanging slightly open, the clerk nods. Veronica raises her voice for the benefit of other guests in the lobby. She leans a little closer, reading his nametag. “And another thing....Alan...we will most certainly NOT be spending our honeymoon in this rat trap!” Veronica turns on her heel in a huff and heads back to the elevator and Logan, who is now slumped against the wall by the doors.

Finally, a high ding signals the arrival of the elevator. Veronica cuts narrowed eyes to the clerk as she steps in, and he swallows. Hard. Once in the elevator, Veronica tugs along the sullen Logan by the hand. She quickly taps 8 and the Door Close button before any other guests get curious. Veronica doesn’t think Logan was recognized by anyone but the clerk, but there’s no sense in waiting around to find out. She knows her little outburst was not necessary, but the mortified look on the clerk’s face was pretty much worth it. Logan leans against the back wall of the elevator, shoulders slumped. Defeat rolls off him in waves. His hand falls out of Veronica’s and smacks limply against the wall. He doesn’t react.

Veronica looks at him. Trying desperately not to stare at him, but having an inexplicable need to not let him out of her sight at the same time. Like she’ll miss the moment the last bit of him breaks. He seems so close to...something. Something bad. It is at this moment that Veronica realizes she is not leaving him tonight. Deciding that is going to be the simplest thing that happens tonight, she is quite sure.

She shakes her head almost imperceptibly, wondering at the string of events that led to her being in an elevator at the Sunset Regent, heading to a room that cost about half a month’s rent, with Logan Echolls of all people. It’s the last part that makes her reel. Right now, though Logan is not the brash, rude Logan of the last year. He’s a broken little boy with no one. No Lilly, no mother, barely Duncan and certainly no one else to count on in his screwed up family. So, Veronica Mars it is. He’s got her, whether he wants her or not. As broken as he is at the moment, she thinks it’s probably not. Showing weakness in front of former/current enemies is never a Logan-type thing to do. Good thing she doesn’t tend to give a rat’s ass what he wants. He needs her.

The ding of the elevator snaps Veronica out of her thoughts but does nothing for the daze Logan has fallen into. As the doors slide open, she looks back at him. No reaction. The comatose thing is not a good sign for hyper-kinetic Logan. She takes one hand and tugs, but he doesn’t budge. His eyes, his thoughts are somewhere else. Somewhere in deep waters, drifting. Veronica takes his other hand and really pulls, leaning back. Logan seems to notice her and stumbles forward, nearly knocking Veronica to the ground. She lets go of his hands and puts both palms flat on his chest to keep him up. His eyes snap up and struggle to focus on her face. His eyebrows draw down, his mouth twisted in a frown.

“It’s okay, Logan. Come on.” The look in his eyes makes Veronica shiver. It’s the same vacant stare. The one he had the first time she saw him after Lilly... He pushes away from her and heads down the hall, luckily in the right direction. Veronica follows him, shaking her head. She is in for a rough night.

Too much death. There is too much death hanging over Logan. She can see it in the way his shoulders curve down under the weight. Veronica catches up and passes him, cutting off his stumble at Room 807. She slides the key card in the lock and when it flashes green, slides the door open.

Veronica can smell the money in this room. A far cry from the Camelot, for sure. Logan wanders in behind her, ignoring the opulence, eyes searching. A lamp is on in the room to welcome its affluent guests. Apparently, energy is no object when a room runs $500+ a night. Finally, Logan finds what he is looking for and the hint of a wry smile touches his lips. The mini-bar.

Veronica stands in the doorway, unsure what to do next. Leave him to drown his sorrows in tiny bottles of booze or come in and watch him drown his sorrows in tiny bottles of booze? She remembers her decision not to leave him and lets the door slide silently shut behind her. Veronica watches Logan gather a few handfuls of little bottles of booze and start to line them up on top of the bar. Alternating clear and dark, Absolut and Jack Daniels. His voice startles her.

“What are you doing here, Veronica?” He continues to arrange the bottles for a few more seconds before turning to look at her.

She moves a little closer. “Uh, Logan. Remember, I was downstairs and I helped you get up here? This is the room you paid for before Tri - um, before. Remember?”

“I didn’t hit my head. Of course I remember. I’m asking what are you doing here?” He points at her and then at the floor. His voice regains some of the harsh edge Veronica is used to, and she feels her skin immediately thicken again. His eyes on hers are flat and emotionless. She curses herself for letting her guard down for even a second. Helping Logan turns out to be a mistake. Another mistake in a long line of mistakes ending with the word Logan. Talking to Logan. Looking at Logan. Being in the same county with Logan. Another smaller voice tells her he is lashing out, that it’s not her, it’s the grief talking, but she’s been through it with him too many times to listen to that voice.

“I’m not.” Veronica turns and grabs the door handle, facing the door so he doesn’t see face. “I wouldn’t recommend leaving through the lobby anytime soon. I saw the clerk make a phone call to some of his best paparazzi pals, who will soon be prowling for the Echolls kid and an adorable blonde in some compromising position.” Veronica keeps to herself that the cameras will be looking for tears, not a prom night pic, but she figures Logan can work that one out for himself. She yanks the door open without looking back and curses the hydraulic closer on the door. Apparently, at the Sunset Regent, you don’t slam doors.

Veronica heads for the elevator and jabs the down button, tapping her foot immediately. She stands there, arms crossed, jaw tight and wonders once again how she got herself into this situation. The sound of a door swinging open makes her spine go rigid.

“I don’t know if you are adorable, exactly.” His voice is softer than before, and she is relieved to hear a bit of snark return to it. That Logan she can handle.

Veronica rolls her eyes, keeps her eyes on the closed doors of the elevator. “Go back in the room, Logan.”

He ignores her. “Kinda hot, but adorable? Nah.” Veronica feels an involuntary flush fill her cheeks. She still doesn’t answer.

The hallway falls silent until Logan finally blurts out, “Fuck, Veronica. Don’t go.”

Rolling her eyes yet again, Veronica reacts to his ‘heartfelt plea’ for her company. “Well, gee whiz, Logan, when you put it that way, I’d be crazy to -” She turns to look at Logan and the words die in her throat. The unfiltered expression on his face is a devastating combination of fear and grief and some element of desperation. Her mouth hangs open in a most unbecoming fashion.

“You’ll catch flies.” He smirks at her, some of his naked emotion pushed away. Veronica’s head spins at what it took for him to open up to her just then. In a few words and a look, she knew he needed her even more than she thought.

“Huh?”

“Your mouth.” Veronica clicks her teeth back together, embarrassed.

The elevator dings, signaling its arrival, and Veronica turns to look. The doors slide open, revealing a nicely dressed older couple. "Check. Elevator stops on 8. Thanks for your cooperation. Enjoy your evening. The Sunset Regent thanks you." The doors slide closed on a confused pair as Veronica pivots and makes her way back to Room 807. She glances up at Logan and then pushes past him. The barest hint of a smile touches his face as he slips back in and closes the door.

Chapter Text

Veronica looks around again, wondering what to do next. Deciding to stay and putting up with Logan being Logan were the easy parts. Staying in a hotel room with Logan in his current state, no matter how spacious, is likely to be anything but easy. She hears Logan come back in the room and walk by her to return to the mini-bar. Veronica has to admit that he is focused, at least. And predictable. She leans against the back of the door, debating.

While dealing with a drunk Logan may not be easy, dealing with a grief-stricken Logan who is not being allowed to drink could be disastrous. At least she has experience with the first version of Logan. Decision made, Veronica makes her way to one of the plush couches in the sitting area. While she is sure drinking tiny bottles of Jack Daniels and Absolut will do nothing but make Logan a sad drunk instead of just sad, something tells her to leave him be. His sorrow is not going to disappear with the alcohol, but he needs the distraction.

She glances over at Logan, who is standing at the mini-bar, cracking the seal on one little bottle after another, setting each one back in place. Turning back, Veronica finds herself flinching at every metallic pop, wondering just how many of them he is planning on drinking. She starts to count along in her head and determine at what point she will have to intervene tonight. Logan’s voice breaks into her thoughts.

“What’s your poison, Veronica?”

“Huh?” Veronica turns on the couch, to find Logan holding one bottle of each, eyebrows lifted in question.

Logan smirks at her. “Vodka or whiskey? Lady’s choice.” Veronica glances from the bottles to his face, trying to gauge his mood and failing. The fact that his demeanor keeps changing is keeping her unnerved. The undercurrent of grief always present just makes her sad.

So, I’m drinking with him now? “And they say chivalry is dead. Clearly, it’s alive and kicking at the Sunset Regent.” Veronica smiles at him, trying to keep things light.

“I have no plans for kicking, Veronica. So, which is it?” Seeing the hesitation on her face, Logan carries on. If you can’t get to Veronica with a smile, try a dare. “Come on. Big bad Veronica Mars can keep up, right?”

Veronica’s eyes narrow as she bites her tongue on a snide remark. When she nods at the Absolut, he almost looks disappointed. At her choice or her lack of a comeback, she is not sure. Veronica wants to slap herself in the forehead. He’s slightly off his game and now she is following his lead. Act like you, Veronica. He asked you to stay for a reason.

“Well, I haven’t been honing my skills with quite the regularity and gusto you have, Logan, but I think I can handle a drink or two.” She sees him smile as he turns back to the mini-bar and tries to ignore the surge of satisfaction in her belly. Veronica hasn’t really tried to make Logan smile in a long time. And she hasn’t succeeded in even longer.

She hops up and joins Logan by the mini-bar as he cranks the tops fully off the first two bottles. “At least use a glass.” Veronica grabs a crystal highball glass off the nearby tray and sets it in front of him. He picks it up, turns it in his hand quietly. Veronica frowns, and then jumps back as Logan slams the glass down so hard on the bar it breaks into at least a dozen large shards. He grabs up the thick bottom piece of glass, turns and throws it hard enough that it bounces off the opposite wall and rolls away under a chair.

Veronica stands frozen as Logan's face remains unnervingly blank. She would rather he yelled or swore or something. Anything but this ticking time bomb behavior. He gestures loosely at the remaining highball glasses, mumbles under his breath. “She always had one - just like those...”

Veronica wants to slap herself for the second time in two minutes. Nine of every ten times she's seen Logan's Mom at the Echolls house, she’s had a highball glass in her perfectly manicured hand. It is - or was - just about a trademark of hers. She cringes at her mistake, but is quickly distracted from that train of thought by the sight of blood.

“You’re hurt.”

Logan turns his hand and looks at it, a line of jagged red across the palm. "Your powers of deduction astound me, Mars. What was the first clue? The blood? The open wound?" The snark is half-hearted, Logan's feeble attempt at normalcy on a night where the world has fallen out from under his feet. Veronica swallows a retort and walks toward the bathroom.

"Don't drip." Logan looks down again, noticing the steady flow of blood. He grabs the bottom edge of his shirt and wraps it around his hand to control it as he follows Veronica into the bathroom.

When he arrives at the door, Veronica ventures a small smile. "Following me without being told? My classes in Assertive Walking Away are really paying off." Logan snorts half a laugh, but it is enough to make Veronica breathe a little more easily.

She spares a glance for the luxuriously appointed bathroom, with its acres of counter space and fluffy white towels. The light is glaring compared to the soft warm light of the other rooms. Turning the tap, she reaches out and takes Logan’s bleeding hand in hers. She pushes his hand under the running water, and he pulls back, wincing.

“Too hot?”

“No, it fucking hurts.” He frowns at her, his voice edgy.

Veronica turns the handle, slowing the flow of water and tugs Logan's hand back under. She gently pulls the cut apart to let the water push any small shards of glass out. She also tries not to notice the way Logan is not looking at his hand at all. No, instead he is watching her face. Veronica feels her cheeks redden and wonders why Logan's attention should affect her so. The fact that he is currently closer to her than he has been in over a year might be part of it. Bustling into efficiency, she turns to meet his eyes, causing him to drop his gaze. But Veronica caught the intensity of the look, the...affection. Okay, I was better off when he was biting my head off. That I can handle. Puppy dog eyes, not so much.

“There. Does it feel like there’s anything still in it?” Veronica is entirely too aware of holding Logan’s hand as she asks this question.

“I don’t know. It hurts.”

Veronica gently pushes on the skin around the cut, watching for a reaction.

“Ow! God, I know I've been a bastard, Veronica, is it necessary to poke my open wound to get back at me? Need some salt to rub in there, too?” Veronica pauses, wondering if that bastard part qualified as an apology in the Logan Echolls dictionary.

“No. Salt won’t be necessary. I’ve got some lemon juice around here somewhere.” Veronica’s voice is completely deadpan and they both fall silent for a few seconds before Logan chuckles at her. The tension breaks again.

“You’re always so prepared.”

“Me and the Boy Scouts.” Veronica leans over closer to Logan’s hand, checking for telltale glints of glass. “I - think - I got it all. Now, here’s where we find out if you got your father’s money’s worth when you booked this room. Keep your hand in the sink.” Veronica gently sets his hand down in the bowl, a thin stream of blood running from it onto the white porcelain. She starts opening drawers and then crouches down to peer in the cabinet under the counter.

“So, what are you dressed up for, anyway?”

Veronica nearly hits her head on the counter when she jumps. She cranes her neck to look up at Logan, whose eyes move from her dress to her face. His expression tells her nothing about the workings of his mind.

Okaaaay. So, now we’re chatting. Great. “I was at a party.” She looks back into the cabinet.

“Whose party?”

Veronica fights back a sigh. Logan is bleeding profusely into the sink and he wants to discuss her social calendar. “Caz’s. Meg asked me to come with her.”

Logan snorts. “What? Meg and Caz? He offer to jump off anything for her yet? It’s the only way to know for sure.”

Veronica grins in spite of herself. “It does seem to be a thing with him. But no. A-ha!” She closes the cabinet and stands up with her prize. A first aid kit. “She was just wondering if he was the - why do you care, anyway?”

He shrugs. “I don’t. Just making conversation.” Veronica frowns at him. Logan doesn’t actually make conversation with her, so that’s not quite it. The dress? That’s what started it. Had Logan been trying, in his backward way, to pay her a compliment? She shakes her head a little at the ridiculousness of that notion as she prepares her first aid supplies on the counter.

“Why’d you leave the party?” Veronica looks over at Logan, hearing the question behind his question.

“Duncan.”

“Duncan?” Logan remembers when Duncan called him downstairs. He didn’t mention Veronica.

“Yeah. He told me you were still here.” Veronica takes a cue from Logan and leaves out what is implied. “Now let’s see that hand.”

Logan glances down at his hand still in the sink. “Still attached at least.”

“Yes, it’s a medical miracle.” Veronica cuts the water back on for a few seconds to rinse off the blood and is pleased to see the flow is slowing. She takes a soft white washcloth from the counter and wraps it around his hand, squeezing gently. His hand tenses but he doesn’t make a sound. She drops the cloth and grabs the small bottle of disinfectant. “This...will hurt.”

Without waiting for a response, she pours the liquid over the cut and is surprised at Logan’s stillness. She knows that must have at least stung. Her mind wanders back to Trina’s words in the lobby. It may be that Logan has had quite a lot of disinfectant poured over quite a lot of wounds in his day. A little frown creases Veronica’s forehead at the thought of it. It’s true Logan has been a bastard, but nobody deserves that. The bathroom has grown very quiet in the last minute or so. She can feel him watching her again, but resists the urge to call him on it. The silence is nice. His large hand cradled in her small one is warm and heavy.

Keeping to her business, Veronica dabs the excess liquid away with a gauze pad. Taking a fresh one, she holds it firmly against the cut with her thumb. She grabs one of the pieces of tape she tore earlier and fastens one edge to his skin. Repeating with the other three, she soon has his bandage in place.

“There.” She breaks the quiet with a word and feels Logan start to pull his hand back. “No, wait. Just to be on the safe side.” Letting go of his hand, Veronica picks up the roll of gauze in the kit and holds it up. She glances at Logan, who is just standing there with his hand in mid-air. When Veronica meets his eyes, they drop immediately to his hand. One hand holds the edge down on his hand while the other starts to wrap the gauze around and around. After a few wraps, she looks around for scissors in the kit, frowning. “Oh, for crying out loud. No scissors?”

Veronica sighs and stands there for a second, thinking. Finally, she leans forward, and takes the edge of the gauze between her teeth. Her hair falls forward, sliding over Logan’s hand and wrist. She notes his hand twitch a little as she tears at the fabric. Standing up, she tears it the rest of the way and uses tape to secure it. Veronica turns away, releasing his hand and starts to clean up the supplies with crisp movements. “There. All done.” She hopes the curtain of her hair hides the slight flush in her cheeks.

As she moves to rinse the washcloth out in the sink, she sneaks a look at Logan, as she fully expected him to immediately leave and return to drinking. Instead, she sees he is studying his newly wrapped hand, flexing it slightly. It occurs to Veronica that it is unlikely anyone takes care of him anymore. It must feel weird for her to do it. He lets his hand drop to his side and clears his throat.

Veronica pauses, the water still running into the cloth, rinsing away his blood.

“Sorry you missed rest of the party.” Logan’s voice is low and she almost didn’t hear him over the water. She reaches out to turn it off.

“I’m not. Not really my kind of party.” Her voice is breezy and betrays none of her shock. It’s the first time the word sorry has crossed Logan Echolls’ lips and been directed at her since...well, ever.

“Still. Sorry.” Veronica turns to answer him, but finds herself looking at his back as he leaves the bathroom. Her mouth still slightly open, she blinks rapidly and returns to cleaning up, thoughts spinning.

Logan, apologizing to me. Logan. Apologizing. To Me. Twice, even. Veronica breathes out a little laugh. I think I could use that drink right about now.

Chapter Text

Veronica spends several minutes cleaning up the first aid supplies. Then a few more minutes wiping down the counter and straightening the towels. Finally, at least one more minute staring into the mirror and reminding herself that Logan can’t be trusted. He’s hurt her before and this new vulnerable side is just temporary. The apology was just a fluke. He is not back to being the old Logan. The one that was my friend. Get a grip, Veronica.

Nodding to her reflection, resolve in place, Veronica finally turns the light off, takes a deep breath and steps out into the room again.

She immediately frowns, as the room appears empty. Her eyes flick to the door, as if she could somehow tell if Logan recently used it. With only two lamps on in the room now, she realizes most of the light is coming from one of the large picture windows. Veronica looks that way and that’s when she sees him. Logan is leaning against the window, lit in cool blue moonlight. His forehead is touching the glass, his gaze directed out over the city.

He doesn’t react to her arrival in the room. She hesitates, unsure if she should approach him. She has no idea how to comfort Logan or even if he wants her to. Sharing comfort is not something they’ve ever done. Not even after Lilly. There was too much accusation and anger in the air to allow a simple thing like comfort. Veronica’s chest tightens, remembering the way everything hurt, the way she woke up in the night crying, seeing Lilly sprawled out on the concrete in her nightmares. She doesn’t know if Logan did that, too. Her Dad helped her through that time. She wonders now who comforted Logan. Who was allowed? Duncan? His mother?

Her stomach lurches. His mother. Who always had a kind word for Veronica. She can see her trying to console Logan after Lilly. Certainly not his Dad, it seems. Trina’s words spin in her mind in a sickening rhythm as a chilling thought comes to mind. Who will comfort him now when his Dad breaks his nose? Did his mother try to protect him?

Veronica bites her bottom lip. He is alone. She looks at how he is standing, slumped against the window. Not relaxed. Defeated.

“That has to be the longest you have ever gone without saying a word, Veronica.” She starts slightly, wonders how long Logan has felt her standing across the room watching him. Logan doesn’t move, doesn’t turn his head. She takes a deep breath and walks over to him slowly, taking his words as a tacit invitation.

She reaches the window and stands next to him, looking out. The lights of the city stretch as far as she can see. Veronica can hear Logan next to her, his breathing audible in the way that precedes a good sob. She’s afraid to look over at him, afraid to unlock the floodgates because she has no idea how to close them back up.

“Is your hand okay?” Veronica knows it is a weak rejoinder, but she feels like if she doesn’t break the silence one or both of them will crack.

He glances down at the hand wrapped in white and then over at her. “Yeah.” He looks back out the window. “Thanks.”

First, an apology and now gratitude. What’s next? A hug?

They stand next to each other in silence again as Veronica stares at the cold vastness of the city sprawled out in front of them.

Logan takes a breath. “She was the last person I loved. The last fucking person.” His voice is flat, without inflection, and it chills Veronica to the core. No, not a hug. Just the most heartbreaking thing he could have possibly said.

Without thinking it through, Veronica reaches across the distance between them, finding his uninjured hand hanging limply by his side. She curls her small fingers into it and squeezes. “I know, Logan. I do.” For the space of ten seconds, his hand stays limp, a dead weight in hers. But then suddenly, convulsively, he’s clutching her hand tightly. To the point that she flinches. Veronica can’t help but think this must be what it’s like to try and save a drowning man.

She turns away, pulling on Logan as she has already several times tonight. He lifts his head from the window and turns with her, but he lets her hand fall. Veronica walks past Logan, hoping he will follow. Hoping he will snap out of it again. Last time it took her storming out and she’s not sure that would be such a good idea again. She glances back at him and notices something strange about his shirt. Moving closer, she sees the dark stain and realizes what it is.

“You should take your shirt off.” Logan looks up at her sharply, eyes widening slightly. Well, that woke him up. The tension of the moment before vanishes in a heartbeat and Veronica rejoices in her ability to blurt out the perfect distraction.

“Well, well, well. The rumors ARE true.” There is a slight spark in his eye that makes Veronica want to sigh with relief. His grief is ebbing and surging and she is going to have to ride the wave as best she can. She’s pretty sure her job is to pull him out before it gets too deep. Distract him. She rolls her eyes at him and gestures at his shirt hem.

“Look at your shirt. It’s a mess. It’ll stain if you don’t run some water over it.”

Logan pulls the edge of the shirt out to get a look at it and sees the large bloodstain from where he used it as a temporary bandage for his hand. He shrugs, peels off his black sweater and tosses it on the couch. Then Logan grabs the hem of his shirt, giving Veronica a look she cannot interpret before he pulls the t-shirt over his head. Veronica notes his nicely toned abs and chest but is determined not to ogle him. She also notes that he has been working out since they used to hang out by the pool. And then notes that she should not be noting that. He holds the shirt in one hand and looks down at her.

“What about you?” He fights a grin as she blinks up at him.

“What about me? I didn’t get blood on me. Plus, not wearing a shirt.” Veronica purses her lips at him. “Dress and sweater. No shirt.” She waves her hand down her outfit.

Logan frowns and starts to open his mouth, but shuts it again when Veronica unbuttons her cardigan, shaking her head. Pulling it off reveals the thin straps of her low-cut black dress, which is more revealing than she was letting on with her demure outer layer. Logan finds himself tracing her delicate collarbone with his eyes before jerking them back up with some effort, grateful to see she is looking down, straightening her dress.

“There. As good as it gets.” She tosses the cardigan on his and puts her hands on her hips.

Logan lifts an eyebrow and smirks down at her. “Not so fast. The night is young, Veronica Mars. And so - “

“If you say ‘and so are we,’ I’m outta here.”

Logan bites back a laugh and presses his lips together. He takes his left hand and turns an imaginary key in front of his mouth, locking it up tight.

It is just then she notices the coffee table. Or rather, the display on top of the coffee table. The little bottles of liquor are now neatly lined up there. Only now they are separated into two separate rows. One of vodka, one of whiskey. Logan catches her looking at them and a little smile touches his lips briefly. She realizes she wasn’t the only one compulsively organizing after he left the bathroom. He gestures at the vodka and then at her, before moving around the table to flop down on the couch.

“I never said I was going to drink all those, Logan.” Veronica shakes her head, at least feeling like she’s back in familiar territory with him. No more intense stares or awkward touching. She steps over where she dropped her bag and makes her way around the table to sit down next to him.

“I’m not contagious, Veronica.” Logan looks pointedly at the two feet separating them, clearly ignoring her previous comment.

Veronica rolls her eyes and scoots one foot closer to him. She glances at the row of bottles. “Five? You think I’m going to drink five of those?”

“Actually, I was thinking you would start with five and see if you’re still thirsty.”

“More like see if I’m still conscious.”

Logan looks to the side, eyes raking over her. “Guess you are a bit on the small side. Plus, you probably can’t hold your liquor, anyway.” He looks away so she can’t see him smile, knowing that baiting her is almost always foolproof. If there’s one thing he knows about Veronica Mars it’s that she doesn’t back down. Not anymore. And certainly not from him.

“Ooh. Next you’ll triple dog dare me. However will I withstand the peer pressure?” Veronica smirks at him, but she does reach for the first bottle. She looks pointedly at one of the bottles of Jack Daniels and Logan leans forward to pick it up.

Veronica holds hers towards Logan in a mock toast and he does the same. Tipping her head back, she takes a big swig and promptly chokes on it. Spluttering, she manages to swallow but her eyes water as she coughs and the vodka burns all the way down her throat. She looks over at Logan in time to see him set his empty bottle back in place on the table. Wiping her mouth, Veronica looks at Logan with a question in her eyes, still too choked up to speak.

“Practice makes perfect, Veronica. You’ve gotta put in the hours if you want to make it to the big leagues.” His comment is accompanied by a wry smile. Veronica looks back at him, knowing as well as he does that both their mothers went straight to the majors out of high school. She chooses to believe he won’t stumble down that path anymore than she will. She also decides tonight will be the exception. Tonight, the numbing is needed. Let the pain wait ‘til morning. It always does.

With a stray cough, Veronica finally finds her voice again. “Not really used to drinking straight from the bottle, Logan.” Admitting a weakness seems to surprise Logan.

“Unless it’s iced tea, right? Want something different?” Logan reaches over to the end table and holds up a small menu with a smirk. “Dad’s buying.”

He passes over the menu and Veronica hesitates as she reads it over, but Logan has the phone in his hand before she can speak. “Yeah. Could we get...” He looks at her expectantly.

“Cranberry juice?” His forehead creases in confusion. “To mix.” He nods.

“...three bottles of cranberry juice, three bottles of Coke and...” Logan covers the receiver. “Are you hungry?” Veronica shakes her head quickly as Logan takes the menu back from her, scanning it quickly.

“The roast beef sandwich with fries and...” Logan glances up at Veronica and then away again. “...a tuna salad sandwich on wheat toast. Yeah, that’s all. Right. Thanks.” He hits a button and drops the phone back to the table.

Veronica stares at Logan until he finally looks at her. “How did you know that?”

“Know what?” He fidgets slightly, snatching another bottle of J.D. and twisting the lid off.

“The sandwich I like.” She squints at him, confused.

“Oh please, Veronica. That’s the only kind of sandwich you ever brought to school for six months. How could I miss it?”

Veronica doesn’t point out that was about two years ago now and she had always assumed he looked at nothing but Lilly during their school lunches together. “I did say I wasn’t hungry, Logan.”

“Yeah, but you might be.”

“Right.” Veronica realizes that her inability to sort out Logan at the moment could easily become a permanent condition. Inside this hotel room in this city miles from Neptune, he is another Logan. And she thinks she likes this one a good deal more than the one who has been walking around in his skin for the last year.

Logan takes a swallow from the bottle, grimacing only slightly. Veronica cocks her head at him, thinking.

He turns to her suddenly, eyes lit with an idea. He points at her half-empty miniature bottle of vodka. “How about we make this interesting, Veronica?”

She lifts her eyebrows in question. “What did you have in mind?” Famous last words, Mars.

“A little drinking game to pass the time, maybe?”

Shit. You’re going to be eating those words, Veronica. And possibly throwing them up later. She takes in the expectant look on Logan’s face.

Beyond all her better judgment, Veronica hesitates only a few seconds more before answering with a nod.

Chapter Text

Veronica wants to put her head in her hands and curse, but she resists. Logan is busily rummaging through the cabinet where he found the liquor in the mini-bar.

I cannot believe I just agreed to play a drinking game. Because this evening was not quite far enough from normal already. Yep. Let’s add alcohol.

The combination of Veronica and Logan is volatile on good days, but pour some alcohol on top and there could be a fireball visible from Neptune 100 miles away. Veronica groans quietly, but she is drowned out by Logan.

“Bingo!” He returns with two shot glasses, which he slaps down on the coffee table triumphantly. Logan flops down on the couch again and looks at Veronica expectantly. She meets his eyes and sees that his smile doesn’t quite reach them. The haze of pain just behind the brown is unmistakable. The tight smile tells her he doesn’t want her to say anything about it. Not right now. She respects his unspoken wish and nods slightly.

“So, what’s the game?” He lifts his eyebrows at her in question.

“Huh - what? It was your idea, Logan.” Veronica stammers at him in confusion.

“Fair enough.” Logan leans back on the couch, finger tapping his chin in an exaggerated gesture as he stares at the ceiling. “What should we play?”

Veronica’s eyes inevitably drift from his face down to his bare chest, sliding down over his abs until his voice makes her jump guiltily and look back at his face. She closes her eyes in relief as she sees that Logan is still looking at the ceiling. “Quarters?”

“Boring.” Smooth, Veronica. What’s with the gaping at him like you’ve never seen a half-naked boy before? Hell, you’ve seen THIS half-naked boy before! At the pool, at the beach...just not in a hotel room. And really, damn. What HAS he been lifting? “Speaking of half-naked...”

“Were we?” Logan’s head turns to look at her sharply, catching Veronica off-guard.

THAT was supposed to be in my head....

“Yes, I mean, no. I mean, where is your shirt?” Veronica attempts to bounce back quickly, going for business-like in her tone of voice. And somewhat failing.

Logan gives her a halfway smirk. “I took it off. Like you asked me to, not five minutes ago?”

Veronica puts her hand up, halting his words. “Logan. I meant, where is it now? The whole point of you taking it off was to get it rinsed out.”

“Oh, I don’t care about that shirt.” Logan gestures to the garment in question, hanging halfway out of the nearby wastebasket. He looks back at Veronica, barely able to contain his grin.

Exasperated, Veronica waves her hands in front of her. “Well then, why did you even take it off?” She realizes too late how high her voice is getting.

Logan pauses, taking in the faint pink flush in Veronica’s cheeks and the slightly wild look in her eyes. A bit of a gleam in his eye makes her shift uncomfortably in her seat. “You told me to, Miss Veronica.”

“Miss Ver - ?” She catches Logan’s pointed look at her knee-high black boots.

“I didn’t want to displease you.” He finally loses his battle with the smirk. “Miss Veronica.”

Veronica looks at Logan, her mouth open slightly. And then, suddenly, she laughs. “I am not - these boots -“

“I mean, what kind of party was Caz throwing, anyway? Was there a Room of Pain?”

“Logan, stop!” Veronica nearly snorts at the thought of 09ers being paddled into submission.

“Was it B.Y.O.W.? Bring Your Own Whips?”

“Listen! That’s enough - you - these boots are not even all high-heeled and pointy, for crying out loud!”

Logan leans over to get a better look at them. He frowns a bit before catching her eye. “Huh. Guess you’re right.”

As he reclines back in his seat, Logan grins at her. It is the closest to a real smile she’s seen in some time. Figures the only thing that makes him happy is teasing me about being a dominatrix. Allegedly. Clearly, I’m not. I’m just...authoritative. That’s all.

She laughs to herself a little bit. This is a lot like they used to be together. He would tease her, make her stomach hurt with laughing. She has missed it more than she realized until just now.

Veronica leans over, unzips each boot and pulls them off along with her socks. She curls her bare feet up under her on the couch and turns to face Logan, who has watched her actions with some interest.

“Happy now?”

“Ecstatic, Miss Vero-”

“Do not finish that sentence, Echolls.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She fights a smile at his mock salute.

“You know, if you don’t care about the shirt, you could just put it back on.” Veronica’s effort at nonchalance falls on ears that are not so easily fooled.

Logan seems to debate the next words out of his mouth for a few seconds before answering. “Nah. It’s covered in blood.”

Veronica sighs. I’m starting to think he could make a career out of driving me insane. And they say he has no job skills.

“Well, now that we’ve covered - or really, uncovered - all that, should we pick a game?”

“Right. Suggestions?”

“Poker?”

“No cards. And not really a drinking game.”

Logan replies in mock seriousness. “Veronica, if there’s something I can teach you in our time together tonight it is that every game is a drinking game.” She rolls her eyes as Logan continues. “How about...strip poker?”

“No CARDS, Logan. And also, no.” Veronica’s mouth twitches in a smile. “Besides, didn’t you get your fill of strip poker with Weevil and the boys?”

Logan decides to ignore her and continue. “So, no poker. No strip poker. Strip?”

“Is that a game or a request?” Logan opens his mouth to answer. “Doesn’t matter. No to both.”

“Truth or Dare?”

“Nope.” Dares? With Logan? HA!

“I Never?”

“Definitely not.” Veronica tries not to show anything on her face as her mind reels back to the last time they played ‘I Never’ together. Too many memories.

“Spin the Bottle?”

“There’s only two of us.”

“Point?” He turns to look at her this time and the mischief in his eyes is a welcome sight. It makes Veronica’s chest not hurt quite so much. It makes Logan seem more like himself.

She has an idea. “Bullshit!”

“Hey!”

“It’s a game, Logan. Have you heard of it?”

“No. Is it a drinking game?”

Veronica wags her finger at him. “Logan, Logan. If there’s one thing you’ve taught me in the last five minutes...”

Logan shakes his head, his own words of a few minutes ago coming back to him.

“Fine, fine. The rules? Spill.”

“Here’s how it works. Each person gets a drink. You say something about yourself.” Veronica points at Logan. “Like you could say ‘I wet the bed until I was 12.’” Logan opens his mouth to protest this blatant character assassination, but Veronica talks over him. “If I think it’s true, I say ‘True.’ If I think you’re lying, I say ‘Bullshit.’ If I am right, you drink. If I’m wrong, I do. Got it?

Logan’s eyes light up. “So it’s really all about how well you bluff.”

“And with that in mind, let’s not forget how badly I beat you in poker, Logan. Once beating you with, I believe, a ten, an eight, a five and two threes.” Before Logan can respond, she continues. “It also tests how well you know the other person.”

Logan closes his still open mouth, leaning his head to the side slightly, studying Veronica. After a few seconds, she turns away sharply, breaking eye contact.

“Okay. So, want me to start?” Awkward, much?

Logan pours a shot of vodka in front of Veronica and a shot of J.D. for himself. He leans back, locking his hands behind his head. “Shoot.”

Veronica kicks herself once again for making Logan take his shirt off. Before, being in the hotel room was awkward and uncomfortable, but now it feels intimate. Which is a whole other level of awkward and uncomfortable she had not wanted to reach.

Keep it simple, Mars. Nothing too personal. And remember, use your poker face.

“I scored a 14 on the purity test.” That would be somewhat personal.

Logan’s eyes widen as he leans back on the couch. He rests his hands on his abdomen, fingers drumming. Veronica keeps eye contact, but tries to hide any hints.

“So, let me get this straight. If I think you are lying, I say ‘bullshit.’ If you are in fact lying, you have to take that shot.” Logan points at the full shot glass.

Veronica interrupts. “No way. I’m not taking a full shot each time, Logan. Maybe half.”

“Planning to lose a lot, Mars? But, whatever. You are just about half my size. Half for you, full for me.”

Veronica nods, surprised at such a short argument.

“Now, as I was saying. If I say ‘bullshit’ and you are telling the truth, I take that shot. Yes?”

“You got it.”

“And if I think you are telling the truth, I say ‘true’ and all the same rules apply.”

“Head of the class. Now, are you going to guess sometime tonight?”

“Pushy little thing, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

“I have an inkling. And before you snap those tiny jaws at me again, the answer is ‘bullshit.’ Despite what your locker told the student body.”

Veronica’s mouth snaps shut. “How did you -“

“We’re not playing Twenty Questions, Veronica. Your spluttering tells me I was right. So, drink.” Logan gives her glass a look and Veronica’s brow furrows. If there’s anyone at the school who would believe a 14, I would have guessed Logan. I wish he would stop surprising me. It’s...annoying.

Veronica reaches for the shot glass. With a tip of a toast to Logan, she downs the vodka in one swallow.

“What happened to half?”

“It seemed rude not to finish what I was poured.” And besides, how often in the last year has Logan chosen not to believe the gossip about me? Um, never? That calls for drinking straight from the bottle, actually. “Wait a minute. You do think I scored higher than 14, right?”

“It’s my turn now, right?” Bastard. Veronica bites the inside of her mouth to keep from smiling as Logan ignores her question with a wink.

Chapter Text

Veronica avoids the sight of Logan’s smirking mouth by refilling her shot glass. Half full, this time. Her throat burns a bit from the first shot, and she hopes that she does not lose this game. The different ways in which she could ‘lose’ make her head hurt. She could blurt out things that Logan could turn into additional fuel against her. She could pass out. She could do any of a list of things she doesn’t really want to contemplate.

“Well?”

“Yes, it is your turn.” Her voice is a bit more snappish than she intended and he knows he got to her a little. Showing weakness in front of Logan is like bleeding in a shark tank. Bad idea to whet the appetite. He circles her slowly.

“Aw, Veronica. Sore loser? I would have thought all the practice would have honed your skills to a razor’s edge.”

“And I would have thought you would have tired of the sound of your own voice by now. Clearly we were both mistaken.” Veronica lifts one eyebrow, challenge written there.

Logan starts to say something else, but hesitates. Veronica can’t think he is feeling guilty, as he has said much worse to her. The only explanation is that he does actually want to play the game.

Just then, there is a knock at the door. Both of their heads whip towards the sound, confused. After a few seconds, a voice comes through the door.

“Room service.” Veronica frowns, partly ticked off she didn’t get to work up a really good comeback to Logan’s slam on her purity. As Logan bounces up from the couch, Veronica pops up to follow him.

“Logan! Wait...” She trails behind him, wondering just how much longer his legs are than hers. “Damn it. Slow down.” Veronica reaches for his arm, small fingers closing on firm, tanned muscle. The sudden contact startles them both into stopping. Logan glances at his arm where her hand rests and then down at her.

“God, Veronica. I thought you weren’t even hungry.”

She shakes her head in exasperation. “I’ll get the door.” Veronica holds up one finger. “Ah! Not one word about the woman’s place or me being the ‘help’ or any of that. I’m trying to help your ass out, so do yourself a favor and let me.” Logan’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “You were recognized downstairs. Think it’s a good idea to answer the door shirtless with your hand bandaged like you’ve been in a bar fight?”

“You just can’t stop thinking about me sans shirt, can you, Veronica Mars?” Before she can smack him down, another knock at the door interrupts them.

“Room service?”

“Just go back over there.” Veronica glares at him and lets her hand fall from his arm. Logan snaps his heels together and salutes her before turning back towards the couch. “Wait. Give me a tip.”

“Sure. You know those plaid pants you have? Out. If they were ever in.” Logan shakes his head in disapproval before Veronica interrupts him.

“Ha. Ha. Give me tip money for the room service guy. Now.” Logan slides his hand into his pocket and slaps a random bill into her hand without even checking. Veronica sees it is a twenty and shakes her head. Rich boys and their money are so easily parted.

“Am I excused again?”

“GO!” Veronica makes a little dash for the door and slings it open to find a fist in mid-air, preparing to knock again. The slightly annoyed expression on the waiter slides away quickly and his professional mask returns.

“Good evening, ma’am.” Veronica hears Logan snort at the word ma’am. The young man looks down at his bill. “I have a room service order for Mr. Echolls?” Veronica smiles at him in her most disarming fashion.

“Right here, please.” She points to a spot just inside the door, glancing toward the couch. Veronica is relieved to see the back of Logan’s head. For once, he listens to me. It’s a miracle.

The waiter pushes in a cart laden with covered trays and bottles of juice and soda. He pauses just inside the door, eyes darting over to the figure on the couch. Veronica steps between him and Logan with the same smile. She presses the twenty into his hand and opens the door a bit wider. He smiles and thanks her, turning to leave.

“Sugarlips, is that my dinner? I’m fucking starving. Bring it and your cute little ass back over here, would you?” Veronica’s eyes widen as the waiter tries not to react to Logan’s words. She swears he is smiling as she quickly ushers him from the room and closes the door. I’m going to kill him. Slowly.

Veronica leaves her hand on the door, facing it. Her shoulders shake slightly. I’m still going to kill him. And it wasn’t funny. Not in the least. Veronica bites her lip. Not. Funny.

When she finally turns, Logan is standing up, hands on hips. “I won’t think less of you if you laugh, Veronica. I mean, I already...” Logan stops, somehow unable to proclaim how little he thinks of Veronica Mars right now. His stomach tightens and it has nothing to do with his hunger. He just realizes he doesn’t want to lie to her.

Veronica frowns the tiniest bit at his unfinished insult. “I’ll be sure to laugh if you say something that’s actually funny.” She turns to the cart, lifting the trays to find her sandwich. Taking the plate and a bottle of cranberry juice, she comes toward the couch. “So, you didn’t think that was a bad idea, huh?”

“Oh, please, Veronica. I’ve been tabloid fodder since the day my parents brought me home from the hospital as a baby and it turned into a photo shoot. At least I gave that guy something funny to tell his buds.”

“I told you, it wasn’t funny.” I still can’t believe he referred to my ass as cute. Since when is Logan rating the cuteness of my ass?

“It was and you know it. I saw you trying not to laugh.” Veronica arrives at the couch to face the again smirking Logan.

“Just get your damn dinner.” She pushes past him to her place on the couch, pushing her smile back down, head shaking. “Sugarlips.” The last word is muttered, but Logan still snorts a little as he heads to the room service cart. Damn, he has good hearing.

A minute later, the couch shifts as Logan flops back on it with his sandwich and a Coke. “Guess you were hungry after all, huh?” Before Veronica can answer with her mouth full, Logan continues. “So, I believe it was my turn before we were interrupted?”

Veronica looks up from a bite into her sandwich and nods.

“Fine. I scored a 63 on the purity test.”

Veronica chokes on her sandwich until Logan has to smack her on the back. After a swig of cranberry juice, she snorts in disbelief. “Bullshit. You scored a 57.” She cocks her head to the side. “So, do you prefer the term man-slut or man-whore? I’m a stickler for these kinds of things.” Veronica smiles sunnily at Logan as he glares at her and reaches for the shot in front of him. He takes it, eyes never leaving hers and with barely any reaction beyond a tightening of his lips afterwards.

“I bow to your greater expertise in the finer distinctions between slut and whore, Mars.” He gestures to her with a flourish of his hand and a bow of his head. As has been the case most of tonight, the full bite is missing from his words.

“Ouch. Now your sore loser is showing, Mr. Echolls.” She winks at him as she splashes more Jack Daniels into his glass and sits back to think.

He blurts it out before he can stop himself. “Do I even want to know how you knew that?”

“Doubtful. I know people, Logan. People who know things. But let’s not get too far off point here.” Veronica glances at Logan from the corner of her eye. The ground he’s on tonight is not exactly holding steady, so she’s got to be careful. Not provoke him quite as much as normal to prevent some kind of breakdown. Again. But at the same time, never let him see her go easy on him. He hates pity nearly as much as weakness.

“Not getting any younger over here, Veronica.”

“Patience is a virtue, Logan.”

“And when have you known me to be virtuous?” And the smirk returns.

“Touché. Okay, try this one on for size: I went skinny-dipping on Homecoming night.” In a rush, Veronica’s memory is flooded with the previous Homecoming. She wants to kick her subconscious mind squarely in the ass for bringing up that particular past with this particular boy. Despite the memories filling her mind’s eye, she strives for a blank expression as she feels Logan’s scrutiny.

She turns to face him, and can almost see the wheels turning in his head. He knows, if he remembers, that she had never been skinny-dipping as of last Homecoming. His awareness of her activities this Homecoming would rest on the loose lips of a certain Troy Vandegraff. She knows Georgia and Wallace didn’t tell. She threatened Troy with the ruining of his life if he told. Not long after Homecoming, she made good on that promise, but it had an awful lot more to do with steroids than it did with impromptu nakedness.

Besides, if Logan knew, there’s no way he would have kept it to himself all this time. Too many choice jokes in there.

“Troy never mentioned skinny-dipping on the slate of Homecoming activities...” Veronica smiles and cocks her head at him. “Fine, I know. No hints, no extra questions.”

Veronica happily eats more of her sandwich and takes a demure sip of her cranberry juice while she waits. Logan studies her. She may be a lot different than the Veronica of the Homecoming they spent together, but he’s still not sure she’d do it. And trying to imagine her dropping her clothes to jump in the ocean is not helping him think it out.

“Bullshit. I’ll go with Bullshit.”

“Then, I suggest you eat up, mister. You’re not going to want to drink so much on an empty stomach.” Veronica leans over and nudges the full shot glass closer to him.

“Why, Veronica Mars. I’m scandalized.” Logan puts his hand up to his mouth in pretend shock.

“No, you’re not.”

“Impressed, then.”

“Oh, you flatter me. Now, drink.”

“Is there any proof?”

“Do I need any?”

“No, I’ll drink. I’m just wondering.”

“Three witnesses. Four if the limo driver peeked.” It’s Veronica’s turn to smirk as Logan eyebrows shoot up. He nods at her with a little smile and takes his shot. He refills it and sets it back down.

“Okaaaay...try this. I’m allergic to shellfish.” Logan sits back, satisfied smile on his face.

Veronica waits all of two beats to answer. “True. Good thing you’re not allergic to Jack Daniels. ‘Cause he’s looking like your new best friend.” She gestures at the shot glass in front of him.

Logan sits up. “Confident, aren’t you? I didn’t even tell you if you guessed right.”

“I didn’t guess and I know I’m right, Logan. So, carry on.” Logan reaches for the glass, frowning at her in consternation. “Fine. You ate a shrimp off the buffet at one of your parents’ parties when you were 8 and nearly died. Trip to the hospital and everything. Last time I checked, that meant a person was allergic to shellfish. Either that or pretentious Hollywood parties. I’m going with the shrimp.”

Logan’s mouth falls open as he looks at Veronica. “How the fuck do you know that story?”

Veronica ducks her eyes, fingers tugging at the crust on her sandwich. Her knowledge of his near-death experience is starting to embarrass her. “You told me, Logan. Back when we were...” Veronica swallows the word friends and shifts gears. “...about 14. We were at the Kanes waiting - as usual - for Lilly to be ready to go to the movies. And...do you remember this?” Veronica really wants to stop talking. There is something truly uncomfortable about reminiscing with Logan right now. Like she shouldn’t know such things about him. Things friends know.

“Veronica, we waited for Lilly to get ready to go everywhere. You’re going to have to narrow it down.”

“Oh, right. We were all in the kitchen and the caterers came in to deliver trays for a party the Kanes were throwing. There was this big shrimp tray. Duncan and I tried to snag a few before Celeste caught us. And...and you told the story, then.” Veronica trails off, trying to ignore Logan’s look of amazement.

“Well, fuck me.” That had better be a figure of speech and not a request. Logan takes the shot and pops the lid off another few tiny bottles of J.D. “Can’t believe you remember that.” Veronica’s eyes snap towards his. The tone of his voice is not biting or sarcastic. It’s a little surprised. A little bit...touched.

Veronica takes charge of the moment to get them back on track. Towards where, she has no idea. But the return of snark would be good now. “Yeah, and I can’t believe how much you suck at this game, Logan. You’re going to be wasted in no time.”

“Trying to get me drunk and take advantage, Veronica? You already got me half-naked.” Ah, there we are. Innuendo, my old friend.

“You know what they say, Logan. I like to win. Anything worth doing is worth doing well.” She takes a swig of cranberry juice.

Logan answers in his most fake offended voice. “Oh, now I’m a thing, am I?” Veronica spits a mouthful of juice across the table and looks at him, mouth agape as she figures out his meaning. Logan laughs, pointing at her face. Looks like he is half-drunk now, too. And still funny. I mean, not funny.

She looks at him laughing for a full five seconds before her mouth starts to tug upward in the corners. And finally, Veronica lets herself laugh along with him. Okay. It was a little bit funny.

Chapter Text

“Say it, don’t spray it, Veronica.”

“Wow, that’s a clever line, Logan. It’s sweeping the middle schools as we speak.” Veronica wipes the cranberry juice from her face and then looks down at what Logan just handed her. “Is this your shirt?” Well, that’s just...awkward. Of course, it would be more awkward if he were still wearing it, I suppose.

“Yeah. Don’t get all squeamish. I gave it to you sleeve first. That’s clean. By the way, are you always this messy a drunk?”

“I’m not drunk!” Veronica clutches the shirt in one hand and slaps at Logan with the other.

“Oh, you spit your drinks on the furniture when you’re sober? Nice manners, Mars.”

“You made me laugh!”

“And so my charm and wit are to be blamed for your poor etiquette?” Veronica laughs again.

“Fine. You caught me. I was raised in a barn and in my country, spitting is a compliment to the liquor, much like belching after a good meal.” Veronica leans forward to wipe the juice off the table and then looks over at Logan, who is still laughing quietly to himself. “This cranberry juice is going to ruin your shirt.”

“Oh, and the blood was going to give it a certain panache? Just use it.”

Veronica nods as Logan does have a point. She cleans the table and looks past Logan to the trashcan. “So, back into the trash, then?”

“Yeah.”

Veronica leans toward the can and chucks the shirt, losing her balance in the process. Only Logan’s hand on her arm keeps her from falling across his lap. “Whoa there, Air Mars. Thought you weren’t drunk?”

“I’m not. I slipped. Honestly, Logan. I’ve had, what, two shots?” Veronica looks for somewhere to put her hands down and push herself back up to a sitting position. She finally settles on Logan’s knee as the place least likely to draw a lewd comment.

Logan glances downward at her hands pointedly as he helps her sit back up and Veronica rolls her eyes. Great. Just great. Logan thinks I’m groping him. Also? I think I flashed him when I leaned over. This night is getting better all the time.

“So! My turn?” Veronica makes a point of straightening her dress and trying to move as far past the awkward moment as quickly as possible.

Logan kicks back on the couch with his sandwich and puts his feet up on the coffee table. “Yep.” He takes a bite and waits.

Veronica smiles. “So, remember when Dick’s car mysteriously overheated in the school parking lot a few months ago?”

“Yeahhh...” Logan sits up a little, chewing.

“I drained all the coolant from his radiator while he was in history class.”

Logan chokes a little. “He told me his Dad’s mechanic fucked up the car.”

“And therein lies your quandary, Logan. Who is telling the truth? Dick, that pillar of 09er society? Or me, Veronica Mars, she of the oh-so-questionable reputation? Your call.”

Veronica grins as she finishes her sandwich and studies Logan. Logan nods at her, thinking. “I remember that day. He was ranting about it the whole time he waited for a tow. Seemed really fired up.” He stares at her, eyes intense. “Would he have known you did it?”

“Ah ah. No clues, Logan. That would be cheating.”

Logan stands up and Veronica looks at him, confused. Stepping past her, he heads over to the mini-bar and bends over to dig around in the cabinet. He returns with a handful of bottles of both vodka and whiskey and sets them down on the table to join the growing collection of empties. Veronica lifts her eyebrows and looks at him, but he doesn’t meet her look. Finally, he drops back to the couch and turns his attention back to the question at hand and to Veronica.

Just when Veronica feels she cannot contain herself much longer under Logan’s scrutiny, he reaches over and picks up her next shot of vodka and holds it out to her.

“Truth.” Without thinking, she takes it from him.

“You think Dick was lying and I’m the one telling the truth?” Veronica tries to hide her surprise.

“Don’t get too flattered, Veronica. Dick lies all the time. Besides, I figure you know all about things like car maintenance and vandalism with the company you keep.” He winks at her. “Now, come on, bottoms up.”

“Ironically, it was a comment very similar to that one which led to Dick’s little ‘accident.’” Veronica holds up the glass in a short toast and drinks it, flinching as it burns her throat on the way down.

“Huh?”

“That Dick? He’s a real charmer. The things he says about me, the scamp.” Veronica flips her hand in a mocking gesture as Logan shakes his head. “Maybe I’ll tell you the story sometime. How many shots is that, anyway?”

“A few.”

“A lot.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve got some tolerance.”

“It’s genetic. Along with a few other choice characteristics. Maybe I’ll tell you those stories sometime.” His voice slips from playful to bitter without warning and Veronica kicks herself.

Logan leans back on the couch, taking the last few bites of his sandwich, leaving the fries to grow cold on the plate. His eyes are trained on the ceiling for an eternity about a minute long. Head against the cushion, he turns and looks at Veronica. She feels the air change. Something in his eyes worries Veronica once again. She can almost see the sadness pushing back in, threatening to swamp his ongoing attempts at distraction.

“You’re feeling it, aren’t you?”

Logan holds up two fingers an inch apart. “Just a bit.” Veronica glances away, and down and anywhere but into his eyes. It’s not the alcohol they are talking about and they both know it.

Time for extra strength distraction. Regular dose won’t do it.

She brings her eyes back to him, forced mirth there. “Well, you do kinda suck at this game, Logan. I’ve been giving you easy ones and you’re still blowing it.” She smirks at him, knowing he can’t resist the bait.

Logan sits up a little, a flood of gratitude telegraphing to her through his eyes. Veronica gives an inner sigh of relief. Logan will have to meet his grief again sooner or later, but not this minute. Not while it is so raw. He’s not ready. It would pull him right under. He matches her smirk with a wicked one of his own.

“I’m blowing it, am I, Mars? Pot calling the kettle.” She rolls her eyes and knows he is at least grateful for the easy shot she just gave him. “Let’s make this a bit more interesting with something I like to call - the lightning round.”

“Oh no. No way, Echolls.”

“Be a man, Mars.” He shrugs when she pins him with a look. “Okay, be a tiny blonde pain in my ass. Either way. Don’t wuss out.”

“I’m not one of your cronies, Logan. I don’t respond to having my ‘manhood’ questioned.” Veronica’s air quotes on ‘manhood’ force a short laugh out of Logan.

“Come on. Don’t make me drink alone. It’s so very E! True Hollywood Story.”

Shaking her head, Veronica purses her lips in an almost smile. “Fine. I’ll just be able to kick your ass twice as fast. And I want a mention in your sordid background tale.”

“You got it.” Logan slaps his hands together and rubs them back and forth in anticipation. “Okay, so here’s how it will go. Same rules, but with one twist. You get one minute to decide. And there will be....seven questions. Shots come after.” He nods at the table. “Yes, you can still take half shots. Aaaaand I do believe it is my turn. Ready?”

Veronica nods, turning to face him on the couch. “As I’ll ever be for such a bad idea.”

“Buck up, Mars. It’ll all be over soon. Try this one: I’m afraid of heights.”

“Bullshit. Duncan told me you’ve always wanted to skydive.”

“Oooh, thanks for playing, but no. I do want to, but the reason I haven’t skydived yet is because I am afraid of heights.”

“Damn. Okay...my favorite color is pink.”

“Bullshit.”

“Sorry. Girly, but true.”

“Damn. And that’s your last freebie, Mars. Make ‘em more interesting than that.
Shock me.” Logan leans forward, steepling his fingers under his chin. “Okay. When I was 9 months old, I starred in a baby food commercial.”

“Bullshit, it was for baby lotion.” Veronica grins, knowing she got one. “And you call that shocking?”

“Fuck. Lilly.” Logan rolls his eyes. “And there was nudity, at least.”

“Yep, Lilly. She even showed me the clip. Nice butt, Logan. For an infant.” Veronica interrupts his retort with a raised hand. “My turn. Shhh. Oh, speaking of nice butts...when we were in seventh grade, Lilly and I snuck into the boys’ locker room after P.E. and peeked while everyone was showering.”

Logan’s mouth drops open. “Into which boys’ locker room? What period?”

Veronica bites her lip. “Third.” Logan pauses, thinking for a minute, before finally remembering which period he had gym class with a start.

“You little...” Logan shakes his head. “Well, clearly you were there or you wouldn’t be speaking of my ass being so fine. True.”

“Yes, yes. And you wish. I was talking about Duncan.”

“Nice try. DK wasn’t in my gym class.” Logan winks at Veronica and moves onto the next question. “First kiss. I was 10. The lucky girl was Emmy award-winning actress Anna Bellamy’s daughter Sarah.”

“Bullshit! Logan, you should really stop using things that Lilly knew about. She told me, well, not everything, but lots of things. She said you tried to kiss Sarah Bellamy, but she ran off. Scarred you for life...or at least a few months.”

“Fuck. Lilly had a big mouth.”

“That she did.” Veronica’s grin starts to slowly fade, and she looks away so Logan doesn’t see the flash of pain in her eyes, the memories burning bright.

Composed again, Veronica glances back to Logan, who is watching her closely. “My turn. Okay.” Veronica turns to Logan, eyes gleaming wickedly with a particularly juice memory of Lilly. “When Lilly and I kissed in the limo?” Logan nods. “That was not our first kiss.”

“Bullshit! You were...you wouldn’t have...” Logan’s eyes narrow.

“But I did. And you know she would have.” Veronica pauses as Logan slumps back on the couch, eyes glassing over. “Logan. Logan! Hit pause on Two Naughty Schoolgirls and keep playing. It’s your turn.” Veronica shoves him in the arm.

“Veronica, I’ll forfeit my turn - the last turn - if you’ll just give up a few details.” Logan sits back, eyes dancing with challenge and enough interest that Veronica feels a blush starting.

Feigning nonchalance, but really trying to forget how embarrassed and awkward she felt that night in the Kanes’ house, Veronica explains. “She taught me to kiss one night when I was staying over. I was too shy to kiss a boy, so she...well, Lilly was a take charge girl. She taught me. Hands on. Um...lips on. That’s all there is to it.”

Logan chokes. “That’s ALL?”

“I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I’d known you would go catatonic. I think we are up to four shots for you and two half-shots for me in this insane endeavor, Logan”

“But...”

“And you can still have your turn. Word to the wise. Try to not to trick with me a secret Lilly would have told me. I like a challenge. Surprise me.”

Logan pauses, staring at the floor for a few moments. He cuts his eyes at Veronica once, and he seems to be reaching a decision.

“The only reason I didn’t ask you out when I moved here was Duncan.” Logan’s tone of voice and face give no hint of the truthfulness of his statement.

Okay. Really didn’t see that one coming. I did ask him to surprise me, so I blame myself. Veronica covers her shock quickly. “I always thought you two would make a cute couple. Logan, we were 12. Where would you have asked me out to?”

“I had a driver, Veronica. And I’ve always been very advanced for my years.” He holds up a finger. “And I’ve also always been full of shit. So, which is it?”

Veronica’s head starts to hurt from spinning and she thinks it can’t be the effect of two...or maybe three shots. It’s the effect of Logan. Veronica thinks of Lilly and the million reasons he would never have picked her over her best friend.

“No way. Definitely bullshit.”

Logan doesn’t exactly meet her eyes, but he smirks as he turns his attention to the shot glasses. “And now, Veronica, we drink. Four for me. Three for you.”

Three? But that means...

Chapter Text

Logan takes one shot with a quick flip of his head and sets the glass down, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. Veronica watches him the entire time, unmoving. He begins to pour himself another shot before speaking. “You’re not going to try and get out of this, are you? Three measly half shots?” He looks up, meets Veronica’s eyes and glances at her half-full glass. “Hello?”

Veronica shakes her head, trying to shift her thoughts into some semblance of order. Finally, she musters up enough composure to answer. “Three, huh?”

“That’s what I said.” Logan chucks the newest empty bottle into the trashcan with a clang.

“Because I was wrong on the last one?”

Logan looks at her, brow slightly furrowed. “Yeah. You know, you’re usually a lot quicker on the uptake, Veronica. Are you sure you’re not feeling something?”

Well, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it, Logan? But I think he’s actually referring to the alcohol.

“No, no. I was just wondering something about what you said about me and...”

Logan cuts her off. “Remember, the game was Bullshit, not Twenty Questions. I believe I was told that by a certain little blonde taskmaster not too long ago.” He pauses, looks back to his glass. “It’s ancient history, anyway.” He takes the next shot, never looking at her.

Veronica bites her bottom lip, not sure if she’s disappointed at his words or relieved. She’s equally unsure if she believes him, as his lack of eye contact is not exactly a sign of truth-telling.

He opens up a little and then when you poke your head in, slams the door on it. Fine, Logan. I’ll let it lie for now.

She reaches for the half-filled shot glass in front of her, eyes barely leaving Logan as he fills his third. Catching up the glass between her thumb and index finger, Veronica squinches her face up in anticipation and throws the vodka as far back in her throat as she can. She coughs slightly as she places the glass down with a quiet clink.

The silence thickens as Logan drinks another shot. Eyes lowered, Veronica sees his hand shake ever so slightly as he puts the glass on the table once again. Her eyes follow his hands as he twists the lid off another bottle, fumbling slightly. He empties the contents into the glass and chucks the bottle towards the trash can again. With a loud clatter, the bottle hits the rim and bounces off, rolling under the nearby armchair. Veronica finally looks up from his hands to Logan’s face, but he isn’t looking at her. After a few seconds, she realizes he won’t look at her.

With a sigh, Veronica leans over and grabs another bottle of Absolut. Her head is starting to get a bit fuzzy and she pauses, a thought occurring to her. The fact that this thought has not yet occurred to her gives her even more pause.

“I...I don’t think I should drink anymore.”

Logan snorts. “Deal’s a deal, Veronica. It’s only one more full shot. You can’t get out of it that easy.”

“Is this that peer pressure all the kids are talking about? Insidious.”

Logan looks over at her, shot glass in his hand. “You’re backing out? I’ve heard a lot of things about you, Mars, but I never heard you were a coward.”

Veronica nods. “Heard a lot of things? Don’t you mean you’ve said a lot of things? I’m not scared, Logan.” She glares at him. “And do you always get this abrasive when you’ve been drinking? Oh, wait! You do it when you’re sober, too. Silly me.”

“Fine. Whatever. And if I am allowed to ask, why is it you are suddenly taking a vow of temperance?”

“I won’t be able to drive anytime soon if I drink more.” Veronica is growing more and more uncomfortable with this line of questioning. Too much awkward truth lies underneath it. Logan has been known to read her like a book and she’s afraid he’ll sniff out the truth beneath her lie.

“When do you have to leave?” His shoulders slump ever so slightly as he brings the glass almost to his lips.

Veronica frowns, confused at the sudden turn of the conversation. “What are you talking about? I just meant that...”

“Don’t you have a curfew or something? Someone who gives a shit if you don’t come home?” His voice is sharp, but she recognizes the tone for what it is. He’s hurt. Bitter. Entirely too used to being abandoned. Logan slings the shot back and slams the glass down.

“I...didn’t mean....” She sighs, reading the hard line of his back as Logan withdrawing. “Not ‘til later.” Veronica leaves it vague. She knows full well she’s not leaving him alone. The thought of what Logan could do to himself on his own is unacceptable.

Truth is, she doesn’t trust herself. Veronica can already feel her reasoning abilities dulling around the edges from the few shots she’s had. Hearing about Logan’s long ago crush on her gave her a secret thrill and that worries her. Looking at him half-naked is giving her another larger, still-secret thrill and that worries her a lot.

Logan starts to pour another shot, the neck of the bottle clinking against the glass as he does.

“Logan?” He doesn’t stop, doesn’t look up. “Logan. You’ve had your four shots. Game’s over.”

He finishes pouring, throwing the bottle over his shoulder without looking. The little bottle rolls under the side table, missing the trash can completely. He puts his hand out, fingers just touching the edge of the glass. Suddenly, he looks at her and Veronica feels a sharp sadness. The tide is rushing in. He is really hurting now. “It’s not a game, Veronica.” Logan’s eyes swing back to the glass in front of him.

She shakes her head slightly, sure Logan’s self-destructive streak is rubbing off on her. Taking the bottle of Absolut, she dumps it into her shot glass, spilling slightly to the side. Veronica picks it up and moves it towards Logan’s, clinking against the side. Startled, he looks up at her.

She nods, a small smile touching her mouth in what she hopes is a show of solidarity. Without waiting for his response, she tips the entire shot down. Coughing lightly, she catches a drop on her lip with her little finger as she returns the glass to the table.

Veronica glances at Logan, and she can almost see the wheels turning in his mind. His eyes travel from her empty glass to her face and back before he drinks his down. The realization that she has just prevented herself from leaving him anytime in the near future unfolds slowly across his face.

Looks like I’m sticking around. Which I knew, but he didn’t. Now if the room would just stop the slow spinning.

“Can you hand me my bag, Logan?”

“What? But you said...” His eyes snap to hers, forehead creasing.

“I just need my phone. If I’m not coming home by curfew, I need to call my Dad.”

“Oh.” The look of relief mixed with several other indefinable emotions makes Veronica flinch. She’s not sure she wants this kind of power over his tumult.

Logan reaches over the side of the couch and gets her bag while Veronica’s eyes are drawn over his chest.

Seriously. Has Logan been working out?

Veronica sits back, arranging herself into a more appropriate and less gawking position as Logan hands over her bag.

Cell phone in hand, Veronica holds her finger to her lips. “Not a word or he’ll track my cell phone and send the National Guard to find me and ‘disappear’ whoever I’m with, got it?”

Logan zips his lips, nodding. Veronica fixes him with a serious look long enough to make sure he’s not too drunk to comply. Logan puts his hands up and leans back on the couch, eyes closed.

Shaking her head, Veronica hits a button on her phone and waits.

“Dad! Hi. Yeah, I’m still with Meg. Party was fine. Bit wild for my taste, though, so we’re hitting the senior citizen home, playing some canasta.” Logan sits up, choking on a laugh, and Veronica glares at him. “Yep, I’m taking Mr. Goldstein for all he’s worth. I just got us a time-share at Laguna Beach.” She chuckles, listens for a minute, a smile tugging at her mouth.

Logan watches, various emotions warring on his face. Finally, he leans back on the couch, eyes sliding closed once again.

“Uh-huh. So, actually Meg invited me to stay over and do some of those teen girl things you’ve been raving I should do. My hair’s half-braided as we speak.” Pause. “Yeah, so I’ll see you in the morning.” Sigh. “Of course not, Dad. Yes. Right. See you then.” Veronica clicks the phone closed and slides it into her bag.

“In the morning, huh?” Logan doesn’t move, eyes still closed. Before she can answer, he continues, “What did he ask you at the end there?”

Veronica looks over quickly, but he’s not looking at her. She laughs. “First of all, nosy. Second of all, he asked if there were any boys there. At Meg’s. So technically, that tiny part of my conversation was not a lie. Mrs. Manning would be having a fit.”

“You get along pretty well with your Dad.” It’s not a question so much as a statement.

“Yeah. He’s great.” Veronica can feel herself squirming, Trina’s words echoing in her mind.

“Must be nice. Mine’s a bastard. It’s genetic, you know. My Dad is a bastard, his Dad was a bastard. I come from a long line of Echolls bastards. It’s my destiny.” He leans forward, trying to fill another shot glass, but mostly spilling Jack Daniels on the table.

“It’s not. Doesn’t have to be.” Veronica’s hand shoots out, holding his wrist as he tries to lift the shot glass to his mouth. The contact makes him jump. He laughs mirthlessly and looks at Veronica with eyes dulled by pain and alcohol. “Stop, okay?” She is looking at the glass and his mouth hardens at her request.

“Why?”

Sure. Ask a good question, why don’t you?

“Because the game is over. And I don’t want you to play anymore. I don’t want to play anymore.” Veronica frowns at him, her hand still holding his wrist.

Their eyes lock until Logan finally loses the war of attrition and gives in. His hand moves back to the table, releasing the shot glass.

Well, that was surprising.

“Ah, would you look at that? All my fine work wasted.”

Logan looks confused. “What are you -?”

“Your hand, Logan.” Veronica turns the hand attached to the wrist she is holding until he can see the stripe of red pushing through the gauze.

“Huh. Didn’t even feel it.” His voice and motions are getting looser as the alcohol starts taking more effect.

“I’d be surprised if you could feel a Mack truck hitting you right about now. You’re hammered.”

“Not really.” Logan rolls his eyes at her look. “Okay, somewhat. From the Lester side of the family, I get an amazing alcohol tolerance. Hit the genetic jackpot, didn’t I?” The bitter edge mixed with self-pity is so unusual on Logan that Veronica doesn’t know what to do with it except change the subject as quickly as possible.

Veronica shakes her head, trying not to pull him any further down this road. “Come with me before you bleed out all over the couch.” She stands up, letting go of his wrist finally. He stays slumped on the couch until she puts her hands on her hips and fixes him with a glare. Finally, Logan pulls himself to his feet, swaying dangerously as he does.

“Easy, slugger.” Veronica grabs onto his upper arms, holding him a little steadier. Her small size and recent intake of vodka do not make her the ideal stabilizer for the force of nature that is Logan Echolls, but she manages.

With a few near stumbles and some cajoling, Veronica gets Logan to the bathroom for a redress of his cut. This time he doesn’t even pretend he’s not watching her. His eyes are burning into her in the glaring white of the bathroom. She finishes wrapping the fresh gauze and tapes it shut.

“There. Now, if you don’t mind, could you try not to -“

“Why are you here, Veronica?” Unlike when they first arrived in the hotel room, the question is not meant to hurt. Veronica looks up at him as she recognizes the different inflection. The question is not meant as an accusation, a dismissal, an attack. It’s almost a plea.

She drops her eyes, resumes smoothing his gauze as she stalls, before she realizes this means she is standing there stroking Logan’s hand. Veronica freezes as Logan’s good hand reaches up to brush her cheek. Her entire mind and body freak out.

On the inside.

This is not happening. No way in hell am I going to kiss him. Quick. Make your mouth busy, Veronica. Talk!

She blurts it out. “Because you needed someone.”

His hand moves away from her cheek to rest on her shoulder. “Since when do people stay just because I need them?” Logan’s voice is soft, the words delivered without bite.

“Since tonight.” These last two words are firm and delivered to Logan directly. He stands and stares at her for a solid ten seconds before nodding. She can’t help but think the two of them have just officially agreed to something. A truce, maybe?

Veronica steps back slightly, out of his personal space. A bit of the old awkwardness comes back as she collects the first aid materials again. Her heart is racing under her calm exterior as she realizes how hard it was to move away. Her attraction to him is rattling her badly.

“Can you excuse me, Logan? I need to...”

Have a nervous breakdown.

“...use the bathroom.”

Logan catches her eye for a second and nods before turning and leaving the bathroom, swaying slightly. Veronica closes the door behind him and exhales loudly.

Here we go again. Maybe I could just stay in the bathroom this time. Eliminate the chance of anything happening.

After a few minutes of both actually taking advantage of the facilities and reminding herself she is a little tipsy and he is definitely drunk, Veronica goes to the door to leave. Hand on the knob, she takes a couple deep breaths.

She heads out into the room, eyes going to the couch, which is empty. She looks to the window, but he’s not there, either.

Finally, the sound of movement catches her attention. Her eyes swing slowly over to the bed and that’s where she finds Logan.

Asleep.

Chapter Text

Asleep? Passed out, more like.

Veronica walks over to the bed, nearly silent on her bare feet. Logan is lying on his stomach, one foot hanging slightly off the end of the bed. The other leg is bent, and she thinks that movement is probably what drew her attention. His position doesn’t look comfortable. Veronica goes to the side where she can see his face. His eyes are closed, his breathing slow and steady.

She stands up, hands on hips. I cannot believe he just dropped like a rock. And he called me a wuss. Huh. Veronica ignores the disappointed little sigh that escapes her. One last look at Logan to make sure he is actually out and she heads back to the couch.

Now what? She flips on the TV, turning the volume down very low. With only one slight stumble revealing her alcoholic intake, Veronica turns off the two lamps in the room, dropping the bed area into near darkness. Moonlight still filters in through the partly open curtain. She glances back at Logan and sees that the pale blue light is washing over his bare skin. The flickering light from the TV just barely reaches him. Veronica watches him, but it doesn’t seem that the light from either source is going to wake him.

It’s possible a 6.7 on the Richter scale wouldn’t wake him at this point.

Veronica slumps down on the couch, remote in hand. She flips through the channels rapidly and grimaces, as the channels are largely populated with tacky infomercials and unfunny late night comedy. Every few minutes, she glances back over to the bed. Logan shifts slightly, but doesn’t wake. Veronica frowns. She’s not sure why she is somewhere between frustrated and annoyed that he is asleep.

I spend the whole night feeling awkward about being with him and now that he’s out cold, I’m...wishing he was awake again? Veronica, Veronica... She shakes her head and mutes the television.

I should check on him. Just make sure he’s not in a coma or something.

Excuse firmly in hand, Veronica walks slowly and quietly to the bed. She stands to the side of the bed and studies his face. Asleep, he looks so young, so vulnerable. So much like a scared little boy who has just lost his mother. She tilts her head, a frown creasing her forehead. Veronica catches herself with one hand halfway to his face. She snaps the hand back to her side and takes one step back.

He’s fine. Veronica looks him over, head to toe. No, he’s super fine. Veronica has to stifle a sudden laugh as her exchange with Meg tonight comes back to her. I should not be drinking around Logan. This is clearly mistake territory I am wading into.

Her eyes travel over his prone form again, coasting over the long curve of his back, the broad expanse of skin. The changing light from the TV mixed with moonlight doesn’t offer much illumination, but it is enough for Veronica. She sees just how far Logan is from being a little boy in that eerie, changing light. How even in sleep, he is drawing her close with his own particular magnetism.

Veronica takes two more steps back from the bed, head shaking back and forth. She wants to touch him. To recapture the moment that crackled between them in the bathroom like so much live current. As much sense as it makes - which is little - she wants to be closer to Logan. To keep his head above water even as he sleeps.

She walks to the end of the bed and moves both hands closer to one of his feet, eyes bouncing back from his face to his shoe and back again. Finally, Veronica reaches out and starts to untie the laces of his right shoe hanging off the bed.

Just making him comfortable. That’s all. Perfectly platonic and innocent thing to do. It has absolutely nothing to do with the way he was looking at me in the bathroom.

Veronica gently tugs one shoe off and places it on the floor. With his left leg bent, she has to lean way over the bed to reach the other shoe. Realizing there’s no way she can succeed without falling on him, Veronica puts one knee down on the bed, causing the mattress to dip slightly.

She freezes, watching Logan for movement. Satisfied he is still out, she starts to work the laces, frowning when she hits a knot. Eyes locked on the knot in the very dim light, she doesn’t see Logan’s eyes slide slowly open.

“Veronica?” His voice is low and soft, slightly groggy. Veronica’s hands still, her eyes flying to his. “Are you trying to have your way with...my foot?”

She smirks at him, heart slowly moving back to its normal position after leaving her throat. “Yep, you caught me. Foot fetish in full effect here.” She tugs a little more at the knot before giving up and yanking the shoe off still tied. Now that he’s awake, she doesn’t have to be so gentle.

“First my shirt, now my shoes.” He’s still waking up, but she hears the joke in his tone, so she lets the comment go.

Veronica can feel him watching her again and gets suddenly nervous about her position half on the bed with him. She stands up abruptly. “There. Um, get some rest, Logan. I’ll be here. Well, over there.” Veronica points at the couch before glancing to his face briefly and turning away. He just looks at her, eyes dark.

When I woke up this morning, it was a simple plan. Help Logan. Nowhere in that helping was there to be sleeping in the same hotel room with Logan. How do I get myself into these situations? My Dad’s right. I need to join a school club or something. Get new extracurricular activities ASAP.

Veronica sits back down on the couch and stares at the television. It’s still muted and a lady with too much mascara and way too much enthusiasm seems to be doing something very strange to an egg. Veronica frowns, which is quickly becoming her standard expression.

A minute passes with no sound in the room. She jumps when she hears Logan clear his throat. Hearing the bedsprings creak slightly from movement, Veronica tenses.

“Unless you’re in the serious market for an Egg-stractor, Veronica, why don’t you just get some sleep?”

Veronica turns her head slightly, not quite looking at Logan, but acknowledging him. “Is the TV keeping you awake?”

“No, you are.”

She frowns, cranes her head around to meet his look. Logan is on his back now, reclining on his elbows. “But I’m just sitting here.”

“Exactly.”

Veronica shakes her head. “What on earth are you talking about, Logan?”

He looks down, fingers on his left hand picking at the bedspread. “It’s a big bed, Veronica. I’d be a perfect gentleman.”

Her heart jumps back into her throat. The realization that Logan is asking her to sleep in the same bed with him hits Veronica like the proverbial ton of bricks. She lifts her eyebrows at him. “Well, that would be a dramatic change.”

“Okay, fine. Point taken. What I mean is I won’t touch you, Veronica. I’m just...would you?” Veronica can hear the strain in his voice and she’s not sure if it’s the mix of grief and fear weighing on him or the fact that he’s asking her for a favor. It might be both.

She turns back to the TV, mind racing in pace with her heart. It occurs to Veronica that saying no may give Logan the idea that she can’t keep her hands off him. While saying yes may prove just that. She sighs. It’s a no win situation. She should be wary of his intentions, of the stories he could tell about Veronica Mars in a hotel room, crawling into bed with him. And yet, she isn’t. And she thinks, for the first time in more than a year, she can trust him. He needs her.

Decision made, she points the remote at the TV, ending the silent sales pitch. She hesitates on the couch, thinking of a million scenarios where this could all go seriously wrong. Alcohol plus bone-shaking grief do not make for good decision-making. And she’s not feeling all that sharp herself.

Veronica pushes up from the couch, feeling her knees wobble. She decides it is the vodka and only the vodka, as she does not have those kinds of reactions to Logan Echolls. At least, she didn’t used to have those kinds of reactions. Guided only by pale moonlight, she stubs her toe on the side table as she makes her way around the couch.

“Oh, damn! Table. Table! Right in my way, the table!” She hops a little, toe throbbing.

“You okay, Veronica?” He wants to laugh and she can tell.

Veronica takes in a deep breath, little darts of pain shooting up her foot. “Yes. Just ruined my chances for the Bolshoi, I think.”

“Too short, anyway.” He laughs and she glares in his general direction.

“I really think my lack of grace is more of an issue, but thanks for the vote of confidence, Logan.”

“Anytime. I’m a giver.” His voice is playful once again and she has to swallow a smile.

Veronica snorts as she reaches the edge of the bed. She turns and sits on the edge, bringing her foot up to check her toe. Wiggling it seems to prove it’s not broken. Or that she’s more tipsy than she thought and she can’t feel it. Either way, there’s nothing to do but swear at furniture and she’s already done that.

She can hear Logan moving on the bed and she turns to squint at him. The available light only offers her a vague idea, but Veronica can see that he is now on one side of the bed. And still without a shirt, of course.

At least he didn’t get blood on his pants. That would be awkward. Veronica pauses in thought. More awkward.

Shaking off the throbbing in her toe, Veronica turns and crawls up the bed. Logan is silent as she approaches, but she thinks he is probably watching her. Something he has been doing a lot recently.

Veronica lies down on her back, eyes trained on the ceiling. She keeps thinking that reliving that moment in the bathroom while horizontal would be not so good, so she’s keeping her distance. The sounds of Logan settling back down reach her as she struggles to find enough calmness to sleep.

She’s not sure how much time passes. Five minutes, ten...maybe more. Veronica feels herself begin to drift off when Logan speaks.

“Veronica?”

She hesitates to answer. His voice is so low, she's not even sure he wanted her to hear. Barely an inflection, barely a question, but the need present is like a wave over her. She stirs a little before answering, voice equally soft as she turns on her side to face his direction.

“Yeah?”

The silence stretches out again and Veronica wonders if she wasn’t meant to hear him after all. The tension stretches between them, growing tighter by the second.

“Did you and Lilly really make out while wearing skimpy lingerie and rolling around on her bed giggling?”

Veronica tries and fails to keep herself from laughing. Logan can feel her shaking. “Logan! No!”

“Oh. So, it’s only that way in my head, huh?” She can almost hear him smirking.

“Yes, definitely.”

“So...what really happened?” His feigned nonchalance is not very well-feigned.

“Logan, did you really wake me up just to ask me that?”

“What if I did? And you weren’t sleeping yet.”

Veronica hesitates to ask how he knew that. “Not the point.”

He sighs, a little of the play draining from him. “I suppose not. And no.”

She knits her brow slightly, losing track. Veronica blames the drinking, as she can usually hold onto a conversation thread no matter how twisted. “No, what?”

Logan pauses, and if it wasn’t nearly dark in the room and if Veronica’s eyes had adjusted more to it, she would see him leaning closer to her. As it is, she can feel the mattress shift and it makes her heart skip a beat. Even so, she slides the tiniest bit closer to him, too.

“That’s not what I wanted to ask you.” His voice returns to the low, soft quality it had when he first spoke.

“Oh.” Her word is an exhale of breath. Veronica doesn’t need to see now to feel how close he is. He’s not touching her, as he promised, but Logan is most definitely in her personal space. Her breath shortens, and Veronica wonders when he came to affect her this way. And she’s not able to come up with an exact answer. Somewhere between collapsing in her arms downstairs and brushing his hand so softly against her cheek in the bathroom.

“Why...” He pauses and Veronica’s eyes are finally starting to adjust. He is turned her way, head on his pillow, matching her position. Logan clears his throat. “Why are you here?”

Veronica knows what he’s asking this time. It’s the same question, but further loaded than it was even in the bathroom. Here is this bed, here is this close to him. Here is a breath away from kissing him. She wants to call him on asking her the same question three times. Make a joke, turn it into something they can laugh at. But it’s just not funny and she can’t do it.

“Because you asked me to be.” And she knows it’s a cop-out answer and she knows it is sappy and it takes her decision to be here out of the equation. And yet Veronica is feeling at a loss in this dark room, on this soft bed, a hundred miles from home. With a Logan so different, she wants to ask him where he’s been hiding this version of himself all these months.

And still he’s not touching her.

“Is that the only reason?” His voice offers no clues and though she can just see his face now, there are no answers there either.

“No.” The word slips out before Veronica can decide how to answer. Her eyes widen slightly at her admission, both to Logan and to herself. She does not elaborate, but she’s not sure she has to.

Veronica can feel his warm breath on her face. As promised, he’s not touching her, but he’s hovering oh-so-close. She sees his eyes, bottomless and dark, looking back at her.

Point of no return, Mars.

Veronica crashes through the last six inches of space between them. In the next second, the contact of his lips on hers shuts down her inner monologue. It comes close to shutting down her entire system. Logan’s kiss here in the dark is everything he is not out in the light. It’s soft and gentle, the lightest pressure on her mouth. When her fingers come up to rest on his jaw, he finally reaches out and curls his hand around her waist. She feels the weight of him there, anchoring her to the bed, to this moment. She squeezes her eyes shut even tighter as his mouth moves on hers, asking so little. It is a kiss so chaste, Veronica feels a thrill shoot straight down her spine. The very caution present makes her want to throw it all to the wind. Her hand moves up his face and she feels the wetness right as she tastes the salt.

With a little gasp, she breaks the kiss. “Logan?” He doesn’t answer and she knows he doesn’t want to. She also knows he’s not crying because they kissed. He’s crying because he let the floodgate loose for a moment. Her shock at kissing Logan for the first time ever is instantly drowned and Veronica’s hand snakes around to the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

His voice is strangled, choked with sorrow. “Oh god, Veronica.” She closes her eyes as she slides closer to him. Her body bumps against his in the dark, and Veronica feels the warm wetness against her collarbone as she tugs his head there. His arm slides further around her and tightens, closing the space between them completely. Veronica makes no more words, just little sounds. Soothing, helpless little sounds. She’s not uncomfortable this time as her hand slides over his back in little circles.

And for the second time in four hours, Veronica holds Logan while he sobs out his loss on her shoulder.

Chapter Text

She’s not sure how long it takes, but Veronica holds on tight until Logan’s sobs begin to subside. Her body shakes along with his and she feels helpless in the face of his grief, with only her little hands and small sounds to stem the tide. The fact that he finally stops is a relief. The fact that he makes no move to release her when he does is a bit of a surprise.

As his cries resolve themselves to sniffles, Veronica realizes just how tight he is holding her. Her bare legs are entangled with his still-covered ones. His cheek is still pressed into the crook of her shoulder. Logan’s hand on her back moves up slowly, skimming from fabric to skin, flattening against the top of her spine, keeping her pulled flush against him. Veronica feels his hot tears evaporating from her skin in the perfectly climate-controlled room. She shivers slightly both from the sensation and the chill on her skin.

“Cold?” His voice is thick, muffled against her. The warmth of his breath against her skin makes her shiver again, but it has nothing to do with temperature.

“No.” Veronica lies. She lies to keep him there. She doesn’t even question the lie. It should feel completely foreign to be wrapped up in Logan on this strange bed and to lie to keep him there, but it doesn’t.

On an awkwardness scale of 1 to 10, this should be a 42. So, why isn’t it?

Veronica feels a little surge of panic as feelings unbidden push into her consciousness, clamoring to answer her question.

“Liar.” His word is a whisper, and there is the slightest brush of warm lips and air against her neck. Every hair on the back of her neck stands up as Veronica tries to figure out if he did that on purpose. She feels Logan separating from her and fights the urge to pull him back. Veronica doesn’t look at him so he can’t see the disappointment that she barely wants to admit to herself.

But then, his hand skimming across her back as he pulls away, Logan dips his face back towards hers, features cast in blue by the moonlight. “Wait here.” His eyes are impenetrable, cheeks streaked with fading tears. And yet, there is a tenderness there that Veronica may have to get used to, if its constant reappearance is any clue.

A little thrill shoots through Veronica while her mind tells all the thrills to stop their shooting right this minute.

One drunk kiss does not change things. Me and Logan? Logan? Logan, with more baggage than most major airlines? Combined, the two of us could bring LAX to a screeching halt. Then, there’s the best friend’s ex-boyfriend, ex-boyfriend’s best friend tongue twister of doom. Not to even mention the pain in my ass, thorn in my side, broke my headlights side of him. It’s just... no. Logan is off limits in a thousand different ways. This is all the effects of half-nakedness and loss and sympathy and meaningful looks exchanged over too much alcohol. This is where it ends.

Veronica nods, sure that she has fully convinced herself with all the completely sane and logical reasons she will prevent any further mistakes like that painfully gentle first kiss.

Of course, it was a very good first kiss. Last kiss. I’m just saying.

Seconds later, her thoughts are interrupted by the sensation of a soft blanket covering her, sliding over her skin. No expense is spared at the Sunset Regent. Even the throw blankets are handmade in some far off country. Logan’s hands touch on the blanket briefly, smoothing it over her arms. Then he stands up and steps back from the bed, looking down at her. She notices he sways slightly, the only outward sign of his alcohol consumption. He wasn’t kidding about his tolerance, it seems. Veronica thinks it’s a good thing there is limited light available because the little she can see in his expression is haunting. She can make out his eyes, dark and sad, and she feels her own face shift to echo his emotion.

“Sorry, Veronica.” His voice is still low, thick and she misses the edge it usually carries. Veronica actually wishes he would just insult her. Be mean. Do anything but stand in front of her and just hurt.

“For?”

“Broke my promise. I think that constituted touching you.” He gestures at the bed, recalling their position only moments ago.

“Technically, I touched you first.” She gives him a small smile and he drops his eyes, a touch of a smile playing across his lips. The touch was one hell of a first kiss and they both know it. The question that lies between them is whether there will be a second.

So much for those nice sane reasons for not continuing this thing. I don’t think flirting is exactly the best way to nip it in the bud.

“Off the hook on a technicality. Story of my life.” She can see the muscles in his arm twitch, cast in shadow. He is tense, hands jammed in his pockets. Logan looks away toward the couch and back at her. Veronica has never seen him struggle so much for both words and actions.

“It’s okay, Logan.” And she’s trying to tell him more than that. The rest of the words lodge in her throat, fixed by a lump of emotion newly formed. She wants to say that it’s okay that he touched her, that he cried. That it’s okay if he wants to get back in the bed. That it’s okay that he hurts, that he misses his mother, that he can’t believe she’s really truly gone. That it’s okay if he’s a little bit broken, a little bit damaged because she is too. That it’s okay that neither of them know what the hell is going on in this hotel room.

But he is so far from okay, she can’t say any of it.

Veronica sits up, the blanket slipping down her arms to puddle in her lap. She can only repeat the mantra. “It’s okay, Logan.”

Logan stares at her, looks to the couch and back at her. Finally, he nods. Even so, he stays rooted to the spot until she lifts the blanket slightly, tilting her head in silent invitation. Her smile is reassuring, undemanding and he reacts with a small version of the same smile.

Logan takes one step closer and then another. The mattress moves under his weight as he returns to the bed. Veronica watches him shift closer to her, sliding under the blanket. And then he stops. He stops when his arm brushes hers. It’s all she can do to not react. Veronica felt less awkward when she was wrapped up in him than she does now. His proximity is making her more and more nervous. Her lack of self-assurance, usually a constant companion, is very unnerving. Almost as unnerving as Logan’s lack of sniping at her.

Wish I knew if we were grieving or making out. Maybe we’re doing both.

Veronica looks over at Logan right as he glances at her. He looks so exhausted, so worn around the edges. So beaten. The night full of holding back his sadness, of trying to drown it with alcohol, has taken its toll. For the first time all night, Veronica feels her eyes fill. Her new empathy for Logan is suddenly overwhelming.

Or maybe...we’re just going to rest.

Veronica moves right past all the awkwardness suddenly. It’s not about what the kiss meant. She pushes that aside. She’s been here for him all night and she can do it again. Veronica actually feels compelled to do it again. Without demands or answers or anything else she would normally insist on.

Not letting his eyes drift from hers, Veronica lifts her hand off her hip. He doesn’t look away from her even as it comes up to light on his shoulder. As her hand skims across his bare skin, he doesn’t break eye contact. Veronica’s fingers slip up his neck, the tips just parting his hair. With mostly her eyes and a little with the light pressure of her hand, Veronica draws Logan closer.

Finally, his eyes slide closed as Veronica angles to press her lips softly to his forehead. She holds the kiss there, her fingers still woven in his short hair. Veronica continues to press her lips to his skin until she feels him break a little. Logan makes a little sound, like a catch in his throat. A sound she only hears because she is listening for it. It’s him letting go.

Both his arms come around to encircle her, one under and one over, pulling her body across the bed to him. When she feels her body press against his, she finally lifts her lips from his head. She slides down him, feeling her skirt shift up, her bare legs grazing the rough cotton of his pants. Veronica touches her mouth to his cheek, right by his eye. and hears him exhale. Just a little. She feels his arms tighten around her, almost to the point of pain.

Veronica knows the two of them have skipped about ten pages of the manual. They are supposed to go through the awkward stages of who likes who and the first date and the fidgeting on the front porch. They are not supposed to share a first kiss in a dark hotel room and then mold their half-naked bodies so close together air has trouble getting through.

Logan loosens his grip the tiniest bit and Veronica’s entire body responds by tightening as she then feels his mouth against the edge of her jaw line. It’s a brush, barely a kiss. But it’s contact.

And she shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be contemplating the cut of his arms or the lines of his chest. She shouldn’t be focusing on every square inch where their skin is touching, warm and soft. She shouldn’t be thinking of how glad she is that Duncan told her Logan was still here. She really shouldn’t let her mind wander into the dark possibilities of what he would have done without her present tonight.

And mothers shouldn’t jump off bridges, leaving their sons behind to the fathers who beat them, either.

Veronica frowns at her careening train of thought. She has to wonder what is going on in Logan’s mind if her thoughts are this haywire. Veronica fights back a sigh as they hold each other in silence. It’s the first time she’s realized she is also angry.

Life, as they say, is unfair. And also, a bitch.

Her hand strokes his hair, instincts telling her he is shutting down. Since he is a 17 year old boy, Veronica figures part of him wants to do more than sleep in this position, but the part of him raw with loss is winning out. She slips down slightly, head pillowed high on his chest. Veronica takes a deep breath, picks up a scent she recognizes as distinctly Logan. Some accidental combination of soap and insanely expensive hair gel. It’s the careless scent of a boy and Veronica has to admit she likes it.

Veronica feels Logan’s breathing begin to slow, to even out. She has been quiet for minutes on end now and even more amazing, so has he. Her hand falls lightly on his chest as his arms slacken around her. Her mind starts to wander, sleep coming more quickly thanks to the alcohol in her system. With as much as he had, she’s amazed he stayed conscious this long.

The world fades to cottony black as she realizes with gratitude that Logan doesn’t snore.

~ ~ ~

Minutes or hours later, Veronica struggles out of a deep sleep. For the space of several seconds, she’s not sure where she is or what woke her. Her eyes widen as she finally places the sensation. A hand is on her thigh. A surge of panic fills Veronica as she struggles with her bearings. She holds her breath as flashes of the night before scatter through her mind at breakneck speed.

Finally, the pieces fall into place. It’s Logan’s hand that is now moving up her outer thigh, pushing under the soft fabric of her skirt easily. A rapid burst of electricity shoots up her spine as his hand comes to rest on the soft curve of her hip. In her sleep, Veronica’s head has slipped over onto his upper arm. She can just angle her eyes up enough to see his face without moving.

He’s still asleep. So...he’s sleep-groping? Veronica tries to concentrate on what to do now but the weight of Logan’s warm hand on her hip is mightily distracting. And then, her concentration is shattered by the sound of her name. Logan’s voice is still distant, thick with sleep. Moonlight washes over his face, letting her look more closely, and he definitely seems to be asleep.

In the next minute, Veronica sees his brow furrow, his head shake slightly. The hand on her hip tenses, his fingertips digging into her skin.

“No. No...” His head begins to shake back and forth more quickly. A nightmare is taking hold of him, pushing his other, clearly more pleasant dream into the background.

Veronica sees him being pulled down and acts without thinking it through, still sleepy and out of sorts from his contact. One hand finds his under her skirt and squeezes it. After a second, he squeezes back but still seems to be growing more and more distressed.

“Logan? Logan...” She tries not to startle him awake. Veronica just wants to lure him back out of the darkness. She moves her hand up to touch his cheek, lightly tapping it. “Logan, wake up. It’s a nightmare.” She speaks quietly, insistently. Without realizing it, she moves closer and closer to him as she speaks until her lips are mere inches away.

“No...don’t...” His voice is breaking, his eyes still squeezed tightly shut and Veronica just can’t take it anymore.

Her next actions explain how Logan wakes up with Veronica’s tongue in his mouth. He jumps in surprise, nightmare dissolving into the night. Logan can feel her tense when she realizes he is awake and he answers her kiss with equal fervor. He is suddenly and instantly wide awake, memories of his earlier dream driving him on. The hand on her hip curls into the edge of her cotton panties, tugging her flush to him once again. He can feel her hand holding his jaw, keeping him there. Her mouth is soft, insistent on his. Her tongue pushes against his, asking and telling at the same time. It’s a different kiss than the first one they shared and Logan realizes suddenly he better stop this before it goes too far. He takes a deep internal breath and lets go.

They break apart with a gasp and Veronica’s hand comes back to touch her bottom lip. “You’re awake.”

“You noticed.”

“You were having a...nightmare, I think.”

Logan smiles wryly. “And so you kissed me?”

“Well, I panicked. And... you kissed me back.” Veronica shakes her head at her less than witty retort.

“I don’t often wake up with a girl’s tongue down my throat. I went with my instincts.”

Veronica squirms, trying to get out of his arms. “My tongue was not...!” She protests indignantly.

Logan stills her, hands somehow on her shoulders suddenly, eyes on hers. “Thanks.”

Veronica’s mouth opens and closes a few times before she comes up with an answer. “You’re...welcome.” She feels his thumb circle on her shoulder gently.

“We should figure out what’s going on here.” Logan pauses. “With us.”

Logan Echolls, voice of reason? First sign of the Apocalypse, I’m fairly certain. And did he say US?

Veronica nods. “Right. Good.”

“Tomorrow?” Logan lifts his eyebrows in question even as he puts his head back down on the bed.

“Tomorrow.” And Veronica can’t believe she’s caught in this cycle of kissing and comforting with Logan. Over and over. Around and around. It’s not something she ever planned on, but it’s one merry go round that’s awfully hard to get off.

As they find their positions again, sleep comes over each of them more slowly. If Veronica had managed to stay awake a little longer, she would have known Logan did not drift off so easily. Her head back on his chest, his fingers play in a strand of her hair gently, so as not to wake her. It’s like silk, twisting and slipping over his fingers. Elusive.

He cuts his eyes at Veronica and then out the far window. Logan’s never been able to hold onto anything or anyone worth keeping in his life. First Lilly, now his Mom. They leave him. The fog of alcohol muddles his thoughts, but he drifts off thinking of Veronica’s lips pressing against his in the dark and wonders if she just might be the exception.

Chapter Text

Veronica stirs, a strange sound invading her dreams. She struggles to drag her eyes open and pinpoint the sound. After a few more seconds, she figures it out.

Cell phone. Ringing. Cell phone is ringing. Must make it stop ringing. Head is already ringing. Too much ringing.

Veronica feels the aftereffects of several shots of vodka still coursing through her bloodstream as she tries to sit up and go in search of the phone. The world spins slowly around her, but she cannot actually move.

The cell phone stops ringing and Veronica drops her head back on the pillow with a groan. Seconds later, she hears the phone chirp, signaling a new voice mail.

Damn it. If only I could move, I could see who called. Veronica frowns, re-examining her thought. Wait. Why can’t I move?

She opens her eyes again and squints as daylight pours in through the partially open curtains and right into her face. Blinking rapidly, she looks down and can’t contain a gasp.

Logan. I can’t move because Logan is on top of me? Veronica fights the urge to hyperventilate as the events of the night before flick by at top speed. She takes a deep breath and sorts through the memories carefully. First, the crying. And then the cut on his hand. And Logan taking off his shirt. And the drinking. And more drinking. And all those truths that spilled out faster than the alcohol.

Veronica pauses, breath catching as his words and his looks come back to her. And then there was the way they ended up on the bed.

And then the kiss. Her breath hitches. They did kiss and it was...

Amazing.

A little line appears between Veronica’s eyebrows as she concentrates. Then there was more crying. She casts her eyes down again, the top of Logan’s head the first thing she sees as it rests on her chest. Before she can register what she is doing, Veronica’s fingers brush through his hair gently. Her display of tenderness over the broken boy startles her. She half-smiles as her eyes slide further down, skimming over the strong curve of his back, the expanse of tanned skin disappearing into his camo pants. Her eyes catch on faint flaws in his skin. Scars. Her stomach turns. She can just make out white lines, lines she never noticed before. Never looked for before. Veronica shakes her head, knowing she won’t be able to hide her knowledge of this forever. She casts her eyes to his shoulder, follows the strong line of his arm, which is lying heavily across her abdomen, fingers curled up to brush her side. Veronica closes her eyes, taking in the weight of him, the warmth of him.

And then, there was more kissing. Veronica’s memory of his mouth, the fever of their second kiss, makes her body tingle in several key locations. She smiles down at him, but the smile quickly drops away when her cell phone begins to ring again. Veronica frowns briefly and then opens her mouth, heart racing in panic now.

She whispers to herself, “Oh, crap. Dad.”

A voice from below her makes her tense up. “Logan. I prefer to be called Logan.” His voice is gravel, low and scratchy.

“Sleeping beauty awakes.”

“Flattery will not get me to move.”

“Will the fact that my Dad is still allowed to carry a concealed weapon and has no idea where I am or who I am with at the moment help?”

Logan rolls off Veronica with a groan, his arm flying up to cover his eyes as the light pours over him.

“Thought so.”

Sitting up, Veronica takes a moment to ogle Logan’s chest and abs unobserved before shaking her head to clear it and darting from the bed. At least, darting was the plan. It turns into more of a stumble, a near-fall and an ungraceful scramble to reach her bag and the persistent phone.

“Hello?” Veronica nearly screams into the phone, panting for breath. She hears a moan from the bed.

“Uh, Veronica?”

“Meg! Oh, thank god.”

“Veronica! Where are you?” Meg’s voice is full of worry.

“What? Why?” Veronica cuts guilty eyes at the half-naked boy on the bed. This situation does not describe well, she decides.

“Your Dad just called me because he couldn’t get you on your cell.”

Veronica covers her mouth, eyes widening. She remembers the cover story she told her Dad and kicks herself for not clueing Meg in. She flinches and asks, “What did you tell him?”

“I told him you were still sleeping. And that I’d have you call when you got up.”

“Meg, did I ever tell you you’re my hero?” Veronica nearly laughs with relief.

“Veronica, where the heck are you?”

“I’m in L.A. It’s a...long story. Thanks so much for covering for me. Sorry.”

“L.A.? He’s expecting you home pretty soon, Veronica. He said he has to leave town or something. You need to get back here.”

“Damn. Okay, Meg. If he calls again, stall him, please? Tell him I overdosed on teen heartthrobs and nail polish remover and I can’t talk yet. Or drive. Tell him anything. Just don’t tell him I’m in L.A., okay?”

Meg sighs over the phone. “Okay, Veronica. But you have to tell me the long story. I mean it. Oh hey, any word on my mystery admirer yet? That’s not why you’re in L.A., is it?”

“No and no, but I’m still on the trail.”

“The dance is tonight, you know.”

“I’m so on it, Meg. I gotta run. Thanks a mil.”

“Drive careful.”

“Will do.” Veronica clicks the phone closed and stands up. She sighs and opens it back up, quickly punching a few buttons and listening to her voice mail. Her Dad’s voice doesn’t sound too suspicious.

Yet. Veronica slowly closes the phone again and looks over at the bed. And then there’s the million dollar question: Now what? She walks cautiously towards the bed and the prone figure on it. Her head pounds at about the same rate as her heart, which could best be described as fast.

She leans over and whispers to him. “Logan...”

Nothing.

Veronica reaches out and touches the arm covering his face and shakes it slightly. “Logan...wake up.”

Still nothing.

Veronica sighs. “Logan, you were awake not two minutes ago. Stop faking it.”

He slides his arm lower, revealing one bloodshot eye. “Veronica. For the love of god, stop yelling.” Logan’s voice is so soft she can barely hear him.

“What are you talking about? I’m not yelling.” She looks down at him, confused. “If I yelled, my head would explode. Nobody wants that. Okay, maybe a few people...”

“Please. Stop. My head.” His voice is thick with pain as his arm moves low enough to reveal both eyes. He squints blearily at Veronica.

“Hungover?” Veronica speaks more softly.

He nods. Then, he closes his eyes, grimacing.

Veronica nibbles her bottom lip. “Logan, I have to go.”

He nods again, keeping his eyes closed.

“It’s my Dad. He’s expecting me back.”

Logan nods.

“Will you be okay?”

After several seconds, Logan nods again and drags his arm back over his face. “Close the curtains before you go?” The scratch of his muffled voice makes Veronica frown.

“Yeah, sure.” She turns, a bit too quickly, and wobbles her way over to the curtains, yanking them closed. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

Yeah, that was convincing. Veronica picks up her bag and goes to the door. “Okay. Well. I really do have to go.”

No answer comes from the bed. Veronica hopes he’s asleep again. The door clicks closed behind her and Logan lowers his arm, letting it drop against the bed. He opens his eyes, stares at the ceiling.

“Yeah.” The room falls silent, the aggressively bright morning sun muzzled by the thick curtains. A defiant sliver of light peeks through, slicing across the carpet. Logan’s eyes drift down and watch the dust motes float through the light.

He is still staring into the middle distance, his head pounding, when the door flies open.

“Okay, but we have to hurry.”

Logan’s head snaps toward the door, which makes him grimace in pain. The dirty retort to Veronica’s words can’t fight through the fog of his mind to his mouth. Something about how he likes to take his time. Instead, he comes up with a simpler answer.

“Huh?” His eyes re-focus to find Veronica standing in front of him with a styrofoam cup of coffee in one hand and a clean white button-up shirt in the other. Her hair is a mess, her dress wrinkled, her eye makeup smeared.

Logan thinks she has never looked more beautiful.

If he could string words together, he might even tell her so. He tries to at least participate.

“Where did you...?” He looks at the shirt.

“Questions later. Dress now.” Veronica comes closer, sets the cup down on the side table. “Can you sit up?”

Logan slowly pushes up from the bed, coming very close to throwing up when he does. He struggles up on his elbows and then manages to get into a sitting position. He looks at her from hooded eyes, squinting against both the pain in his head and the confusion about her return.

Veronica ignores the look in his eyes and puts her knee down on the bed to lean closer. She holds the shirt open and after glancing at her face, Logan lifts one arm and slides it in the sleeve. Leaning around him, she offers the other sleeve, which he pulls on. Veronica tugs the shirt around to the front and immediately starts to button it, her little fingers working furiously. “I think it’ll fit. I had to guess.”

Three buttons down, Veronica stops when Logan’s hands cover hers. Her eyes snap to his, which are more intense than she expected. He takes over and finishes the buttons quickly, watching her the whole time as she stands back up. His brain again refuses to divulge his witty reply about how he preferred it when she was telling him to undress instead of vice versa. The words drift just out of reach.

“You came back.” Logan surprises himself by blurting out these particular words. Veronica puts out her hand.

“Yeah.”

Logan hesitates, then slides his hand into hers. He grips it tightly as she coaxes him to his feet. Swaying dangerously, Logan steels himself against his nausea and ventures a smile at Veronica. She gives him an unsteady one back and slowly lets his hand go.

Damn. I should have just left. He would have been fine. Logan’s had more hangovers than most people have had hangnails.

“Thanks for the shirt.”

“I think you should come with me.” Logan is startled enough by her statement that his words start to fall back into place, despite his blinding headache.

“Not sure your Dad would be thrilled.”

“Not to my house, Logan. To Neptune.”

“Why?”

Oh, sure. He’s always got the most difficult question at the ready.

“I just...” Veronica looks everywhere but at Logan, who is trying very hard to remain standing. “...don’t think you should stay here on your own.”

“Afraid I’ll do something dramatic?”

The rapid fire flashes of things Logan could do if left unattended are enough to make Veronica newly dizzy. She swallows her worry and answers with a familiar grin.

“When do you do something that’s not?”

“You wound me, Mars. If I agree, will the talking stop? I’m this close to puking.”

“Oh, Logan.” Veronica swats at him in mock playfulness. “You always know just what to say to make a girl feel special. Really, I’m swooning on the inside.” She pauses. “No wait, that’s just nausea.” Veronica looks at him a bit more closely. “But, you are looking a touch on the green side. Let’s get going.”

Veronica turns to the door, grabbing the coffee from the table. She turns back around when she hears a thump and finds Logan sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. He is even paler than he was before.

“You can’t drive, can you?”

“Yes, I can. Soon as I’m not so dizzy.”

Veronica puts her hands on her hips and makes a snap decision. “I’ll drive you. Only you’d have to leave your car...”

She tries to hide her surprise when Logan readily agrees to ride with her. “I’ll have the hotel send it.”

Veronica knits her brow in confusion. “They’ll do that?”

Logan just looks up at her, one eyebrow lifted. Veronica rolls her eyes, sticks her hand out again, tugging Logan to his feet. “Oh, right. Money, fame. Buys everything. Check.” She lets him go and starts for the door again, this time with Logan a few steps behind her.

“Not everything.” Logan mutters under his breath and Veronica’s expression flinches, as a picture of his rich and famous mother swan-diving from a bridge pops in her head.

You’ll need that foot for driving, Veronica. Best keep it out of your mouth.

Veronica drops back a step to fall in with Logan as they make their way to the elevator. She glances over at him and thinks he could really use some water or coffee or possibly intravenous fluids. Since the majority of his intake yesterday was alcohol and his output was mostly tears, he’s a bit of a wreck. He leans against the wall by the elevator while they wait, eyes closed. They pop open when the elevator dings its arrival and Veronica steps in with Logan close on her heels, still silent.

At least it’s not painfully awkward or anything between us.

Veronica shakes her head and glances at Logan, his eyes closed once again. Her expression softens and for not the first time, she reaches out to take his hand. They reach the first floor right then and Veronica covers her gesture by pulling him out of the elevator.

“Geez, Veronica. I like my arm in the socket if you don’t mind.” Veronica smiles, the touch of bite in Logan’s voice more welcome than he could know. She keeps smiling when she notices that as they head for the lobby doors, he doesn’t actually let go.

Chapter Text

“Shoes.”

Veronica pauses right before they leave the lobby, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t have shoes on.”

Veronica’s eye snap to the ground to see Logan’s sock-covered feet. “Damn it. You don’t.” She hesitates, struggling with the time ticking by and Logan’s need for footwear. Luckily, she snagged her boots on the way out the first time she left the room. Her panic over getting home didn’t allow her to think everything else through. Veronica looks around, spots an armchair off to the side of the entrance. “Wait there. Don’t draw attention to yourself, okay?”

Maybe I should just ask him to hold his breath while I’m gone, too. About as easy for him.

Logan nods. His whole head feels jammed full of cotton and he’s barely staying conscious. He sinks into the chair as Veronica walks very quickly to the elevator. He’s aware that his eyes are firmly locked on her ass swaying back and forth, but since she’s not looking, feels safe in his ogling. Except now she’s looking. Logan lifts one hand from the arm of the chair, forming his fingers into an ‘okay’ sign, accompanied by a wink.

Veronica rolls her eyes and pushes the elevator button again, trying to hurry it.

How he can cling to consciousness by a thread and still find time to ogle my ass, I’ll never know. I’ll just add that to the list of confusing questions about Logan. The long, long list.

Five minutes later, Veronica returns with the shoes, which she drops into the lap of a sleeping Logan.

“Rise and shine. Again.”

“Would you settle for stumble and glare?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Logan yanks on his shoes and comes to his feet slowly. Veronica is halfway out the door already. He cringes as they leave the lobby, the bright morning sun hitting him full in the face. Veronica digs in her bag and hands him a pair of sunglasses. Logan takes them, glancing down in surprise as he sees they are an expensive-looking pair of men’s sunglasses.

“Where did you...?”

“Came with the shirt. Come on, I’m over here.” Veronica leads the way to her car quickly, short legs outdistancing Logan’s much longer ones as he follows behind her.

“Veronica, you are a woman of many mysteries.” Logan half-smiles at her as he slides the glasses on.

“You have no idea. Get in.” Really, you don’t. Not sure if you want to, either. The files on Lilly’s murder stashed on her laptop flash through Veronica’s mind. It has occurred to her on more than one occasion that Logan wouldn’t understand her continued pursuit of Lilly’s killer. It’s not exactly one of their talking topics.

Shaking these thoughts off, Veronica gets in the car and then watches as Logan slides into the passenger seat, his long legs jammed under the dashboard.

“Sorry. It’s a Veronica-sized car.” Veronica pauses, thinking. “The seat does recline, though.”

“Does it now?” She swears she can hear him quirk his eyebrows up.

How does he make the most innocent thing sound so dirty?

“Yes, it does.”

“Good thing to know.”

There he goes again. Perv. Or flirt? Such a fine line with him. Best thing to do, Veronica? Drive. Just drive.

She turns her eyes to face front as she starts the engine. Veronica can hear Logan fiddling with the seat and suddenly he falls out of her peripheral vision.

“The lever’s a bit tricky, I’ve been told.”

His voice coming from almost behind her, Logan answers in a sharp tone, “You don’t say.”

Veronica grins and looks back at him. As soon as her eyes find his face, she regrets the smile. “Probably didn’t help the headache, huh?”

“Or the blinding nausea.” Logan looks extremely pale.

“Right. Um, you can open a window if you need to...”

“I’ll warn you if your interior is about to get re-decorated.”

“I’ll try to drive easy.”

Logan hesitates. Clearly, the idea of Veronica Mars helping him, being concerned for him is still a garment that doesn’t quite fit. He shifts uncomfortably. “Uh, thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Veronica puts the car in gear and pulls out of the parking lot, immediately hitting a pothole. “Oh, damn. Uh, my bad.”

Logan groans, stretches out a finger to push the window down button without sitting up. Veronica looks at him sharply. “No need to panic. Just getting fresh air.”

“Okay.” Veronica drives, trying to avoid any more holes, bumps and other obstacles which might cause Logan to lose the meager contents of his stomach. They ride for five minutes in silence, Veronica never turning her eyes from the road as she eases onto the freeway.

I can’t just sit here with him for two hours and not talk. We...hate each other. Don’t we? I only helped him because...because...well, that’s beside the point. The point is the all important hating each other. So why all the non-hating behavior? We have to talk about this.

“Logan - ” Veronica cranes her head around to see Logan in his reclined position.

He’s asleep. Usually I can’t get him to stop talking. But when we need to talk? Out cold. Again.

Logan shifts slightly in his seat before settling down with his face turned in her direction. Even with the dark glasses, she knows he’s out. Veronica wants to be frustrated with him, even pissed, but it just won’t come.

Veronica sighs, eyes back on the road for a minute before they drift back to him. She takes in the dark circles under his eyes with a sad smile. The urge to worry about him, to take care of him, is still there. Even in the morning, when she thought the light of reason would burn it out of her.

He looks worse than I feel. And I feel like I drank too much, kissed the wrong boy and slept in my clothes in a strange place with no toothbrush. Maybe because I did.

Facing front once again, Veronica slides her cell phone out of her bag and switches it to vibrate. Fingers tapping the wheel, her mind wanders. In the time since Lilly’s death, she’s filled an internal reservoir with bad memories and hurt feelings, many of them drawn from encounters with Logan. All that fuel served her well this year, hardening her, strengthening her against him and the rest of the world. And yet, right now, when she goes to that well, she comes back with feelings of pity and empathy and memories of happier times with Logan. And this new feeling. Affection.

Or is it just lust?

She shakes her head, eyes finding her passenger once again. He is breathing evenly, body relaxed in the seat. As her eyes trip down his body, they catch on the way his tanned neck contrasts with the stark white shirt and his hand lying across his stomach. Her gaze lingers, tracing the lines of him, finally checking herself before she risks running off into a ditch.

That would be a fun one to explain to my Dad. ‘I was checking out Logan’s goods when I totaled my car. Whoopsy.’ Veronica throws him one more glance. And I do mean goods.

Veronica nearly laughs out loud. Instead, she turns the radio on very softly and tries to concentrate on anything but the boy sleeping two feet away from her in all his confusing glory.

***

Halfway to Neptune, Veronica needs a bathroom and the Le Baron needs gas. She exits the interstate and pulls into a gas station, driving as smoothly as she can. Glancing over as she gets out of the car, she sees that Logan is still out.

By the time she walks around the car and unscrews the gas cap, a hand is sticking out of the open window. In the fingers, she sees a platinum card. She stops and laughs, eyes rolling.

Moving to the window, Veronica leans in. “Lots of practice whipping that thing out, huh?”

Damn. Now, I’m the one making everything sound dirty. Pretty sure I did that on purpose, too. Damn again.

Logan pulls the glasses off so he can deliver a look both amused and mischievous, eyebrows raised. Veronica is relieved to see a little spark back in his eye. More relieved than she thinks she should be. Where the spark is, the snark follows.

“You might say that.”

“I just did.”

“I noticed. Now, stop arguing with me and take the card. Though you don’t have to stand up immediately.” His eyes drop pointedly to the front of her dress, as her position is currently giving him a view of her goods. Logan slides the glasses back on, smirking.

Veronica jerks to a standing position and can just hear the low chuckle from inside the car. “Logan!”

He doesn’t answer, just shakes the card in her direction.

“You don’t have to - ” Veronica frowns at the credit card.

“Not offering because I have to.” Logan’s voice from inside the car is suddenly serious.

Veronica hesitates for a second more before taking the card. Neither of them needs to say that ‘have to’ hasn’t really been a factor recently. She doesn’t respond, just swipes the card through the slot and reaches to return it to Logan. Veronica tenses when her fingers graze his and he closes his hand around hers for the space of a few seconds. Warm and solid, his hand slides away, taking the card with him. She stands still for a second, hand still in mid-air, unnerved by the instant warmth she felt in reaction to his touch.

“Thanks.” She keeps almost all the waver out of her voice as she turns away and starts to pump the gas.

In a voice too low for Veronica to hear, Logan mumbles an answer. “At least Dad’s money is good for something.” He settles fully back into the seat, attempts to stretch his legs, but comes up short as his feet hit the floorboard. “This IS a Veronica-sized car.”

Logan pops the door open, startling Veronica. She jumps slightly, recovering by the time he unfolds himself from the car and stands up. He nods to the food mart connected to the gas station.

“Think that fine establishment has any facilities?”

Veronica squints at the less than reputable looking building. “One way to find out.”

“Right.” Logan pushes off from the car, straightening his shirt and running his hands through his hair absently.

Veronica leans slightly to the side, as the gas pump blocks her view of his departure otherwise.

He walks like he owns the world, I swear. Or like he knows he has a great ass. Maybe both. More adept at discretion than Logan, Veronica doesn’t get caught when Logan snaps the door open of the store and throws a glance over his shoulder at her. She is studiously watching the numbers tick by when he looks. He disappears inside.

Five minutes later, Logan comes out the door, pausing when he doesn’t see the Le Baron at the pump. A quick look around finds it sitting by the corner of the food mart, Veronica behind the wheel, leaning back against the headrest. Balancing the things in his hands precariously, he pulls the door open and plops down in the seat. Veronica sits up suddenly at his arrival and the smell of hot coffee under her nose.

Eyes open, she smiles at the sight in front of her, quickly taking the cup Logan is offering.

“Can’t say if it’s any good, but it’s hot.”

Veronica cups both hands around the cup and sniffs the bitter brew. “And right now, that makes it good.” She sips, grimacing at the heat and the distinctive taste of gas station coffee. Smiling over at Logan, she feels calm in his presence for the first time since they woke up this morning. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. Oh, and here. I figured you were hungry.” He passes over a bag, which turns out to have a huge blueberry muffin in the bottom.

She sniffs it as her stomach rumbles, reminding her of its current state. “What about you?” His hands are empty aside from the coffee, Veronica notices.

“Food and I are not yet friends, Veronica.” Logan holds his hand up towards her in a stop gesture.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

Veronica settles the bag next to her and tucks the coffee into her cup holder. She starts the car and gets them back on the interstate quickly. Logan brings his seat up to a slightly less reclined position so he can drink his coffee.

They ride in silence for the next few minutes, the only sounds Veronica rustling in the bag for pieces of muffin and that of coffee being sipped.

Logan looks out the window, watches the scenery fly by. His thoughts wander along with his fingers as they trail down the button band of his shirt. He looks at Veronica out of the corner of his eye, wondering once again where this shirt came from and the bigger question of why she continues to help him. Is it pity? He pulls the sunglasses off, pinches the bridge of his nose momentarily before putting the glasses on the dashboard.

His eyes drop to a loose thread he is twisting around his finger. Around and around it goes. Is there something else? Does he feel it, too? He’s spent so long shoving Veronica into one particular category in his mind, it’s hard to shift her into a new light. He slides his eyes her way again, this time noticing the way her skirt is riding up as she drives, revealing more of her smooth thigh than she likely realizes. Logan shifts in his seat. It’s not like it’s news to him that Veronica is hot. It’s just that he used to block it out in favor of hating her. Her hand suddenly appears in his field of vision, yanking the fabric down. Logan’s eyes jerk to hers instead of away. His lack of embarrassment at being caught causes a pink flush to race up Veronica’s neck and into her cheeks. She pulls her eyes away from his and back to the road.

Logan: perv or flirt? The mystery continues.

The thought that Logan is used to getting what he wants crosses Veronica’s mind.

Even if he doesn’t always get to keep it. And if that look was any indication, I may be near the top of his To Do list.

She throws him a look, trying to read him. She sees Logan smile a little, grab his sunglasses and lean back in his seat.

Veronica can’t help a little grin. She turns the radio up. “Too loud?”

“Just right.” Logan moves around a little, getting comfortable and Veronica senses he’s about to drop off again.

Veronica knows they have unfinished business and that pesky matter of a few kisses to discuss, but it can wait a little longer. There is something kind of unsettling and wonderful about the uncertainty of stolen looks and confused feelings. For the next hour, with the wind whipping her blonde hair around her head and salt air tickling her nose, she’s happy to not know what comes next.

Yeah. Just right.

Chapter Text

Veronica glances over at Logan for the dozenth time in the last half hour. Every single time, he has been in the exact same position, his long body folded awkwardly into her too small passenger seat. She is starting to get a crick in her neck from both empathy with his position and from constantly craning to look back at him.

Ten miles.

Veronica sighs, taking her eyes off the road long enough to check on her passenger.

Ten miles to Neptune and still he sleeps. So much for that little ‘what-the-hell-are-we-doing’ chat I was so looking forward to.

Veronica stretches her neck side-to-side, hoping to release some of the tension building there. She tries to imagine what exactly her part of that chat would be. As every mile brings them closer and closer to Neptune, she can feel the tightness moving down her spine.

The two of them even talking to each other in a relatively civil manner is news. The two of them getting in a car together, also news. The two of them spending the night alone in an expensive hotel room, half-naked and kissing? That’s the lead off at 11.

Or the front page of the Instigator.

Veronica cringes inwardly. The scrutiny inherent in dating the son of a movie star makes her palms sweat just thinking about it.

And why am I thinking about dating Logan Echolls, of all people? For all I know, that whole night could turn into more fodder for him to use against me Monday at school.

She thinks it, but for once in a very long while, she has a hard time believing it.

Veronica hums to herself, fingers tapping the wheel. The breeze blowing in off the ocean is crisp and fresh, the moisture of the early morning burning away under a spring sun. It’s helping to clear her mind, but is doing nothing for the tangle of emotions evoked every time she glances to her right.

She rubs her eyes, catches her reflection in the rearview mirror.

Nice look, Veronica. She tries to wipe away the smeared mascara below her eyes. At least my hair looks like crap. Distracts a little from the wrinkled, slept-in dress.

She fumbles behind her seat for her bag while she tries to stay in her lane. Somewhere along the way, it has gotten wedged behind her seat. Suddenly she feels something unexpected and her eyes jerk away from the road momentarily. Logan’s hand brushes hers as he pulls her bag from behind the seat and holds it out.

“You’re awake.” Veronica pulls her eyes away from him and back to her driving.

“Nothing gets past you does it, Mars?” Logan’s voice is scratchy and Veronica is instantly back in the moment when he woke up on top of her a few hours ago. And she’s not sorry to remember it.

She shakes her head almost imperceptibly. Every mile of highway between the back of her car and that hotel room is doing nothing to diminish these thoughts, as she thought they might. “You always this pleasant in the morning?”

“No, sometimes I’m even less so.”

Veronica nods. “I’ll make a note of that for future reference.”

Open mouth, insert flirting. Seriously, Veronica. She keeps her eyes on the road ahead to avoid Logan’s reaction to her little comment.

“What do you need?”

Veronica glances at him sharply, and sees that he is gesturing at her with the bag.

Oh, Logan. The million dollar, fully loaded question. But for now... “Hairbrush. Outside pocket.”

Logan pulls the bag into his lap and slides his hand into the pocket, producing a small hairbrush. Veronica takes it from him without looking, more unnerved by the helpful Logan than the cranky one. She yanks the brush through her hair a few times, flinching as it detangles.

From the corner of her eye, Veronica sees Logan’s hand lift towards her, hesitate and drop back to his lap. Her mind races, causing her to pull a bit too hard on a knot in her hair.

“Ow!”

“Issues?”

“At the risk of stating the obvious, my hair is tangled.”

“Right.” Distracted, Logan runs his hand through his own hair, eyes wandering to the view zipping by them at 65 miles per hour. “We’re almost to Neptune.”

Veronica frowns slightly. He sounds disappointed. “Yeah, just about there. Should I drop you at your house?” She drops the hairbrush back into the bag and Logan sets it on the floor again. He takes off his sunglasses and tosses them on the dashboard.

“Yeah.” His answer is barely audible and Veronica is unsure what to say. She certainly can’t take him to her house. Her Dad’s suspicions may already be raised. Showing up with Logan Echolls in tow would set off the warning bells and possibly some kind of large siren.

Veronica slows, exiting for Neptune. She heads up into the hills and to a neighborhood she makes a point of avoiding nowadays. That tension in her neck returns as she remembers how she used to drive these streets in happier times, traveling to the Kanes’ and the Echolls’ with regularity. Logan falls further into silence, and even stops fidgeting as they turn into his neighborhood.

She can make it to the Echolls estate on auto-pilot and within minutes, she pulls up at the gate, gliding to a stop. Logan keeps staring out his window, eyes focused on the house across the street. Veronica looks his direction as he continues to not react to the car stopping.

She trains her eyes on the place he seems desperate to avoid. The imposing iron gate restricts access, but not the view. Veronica looks over the lush landscape and massive house sprawled out beyond in a nearly indecent manner. When they were friends, she wondered what it was like to live in such a big, expensive house. She might have envied him more than a few times. And yet, since they stopped being friends, Veronica has started to see how very much she is happy not to live in that house. The house filled with an abusive father and a social climbing stepsister. The house now empty of a mother. Veronica knows from experience that your home can be built around the love of one parent. She has a terrible feeling that Logan lost that love and that parent over the Coronado Bridge a few weeks ago, leaving him in cruel hands. No, she most certainly does not envy his place in that house now. As her eyes shift back to Logan, she can feel the waves of reluctance and something she can only describe as despair rolling off him.

Veronica puts the car in park, sets the emergency brake and turns her attention back to Logan.

“We’re here.”

“What was the first clue? The stink of money or the sound of camera shutters clicking?” Logan snaps at her half-heartedly and Veronica frowns, the tiniest crease appearing between her eyebrows.

His words make her look around, expecting to see a member of the paparazzi leap out of the bushes, camera lens trained on her.

Logan turns to Veronica and sighs as he takes in her expression. “Sorry, Veronica. I’m just...yeah. I should go.”

She forces her face into a small smile and gives him a short nod.

“So...thanks for the ride and...” He trails off and Veronica jumps in before he can find an end to his sentence.

“You’re welcome.” Veronica smiles again. “It was, well, unexpected is a word that springs to mind.” She laughs a little and is relieved to see his mouth slip into a grin, his eyes dropping to his lap as he chuckles quietly.

“That’s one word which does.” Before Veronica can ask for a selection of other words that are springing to Logan’s mind, he looks full at her, brown eyes intense.

Swallowing hard, Veronica doesn’t look away as she struggles for small talk. All of a sudden the notion of having their little chat is making her panic like a cornered rabbit. And Logan is looking like quite the wolf. “So, I guess, I’ll see you? Around, I mean?”

Weak, Veronica.

“Right. Around.” Logan’s eyes flick from her eyes to her mouth and back again in a heartbeat.

Does his ‘around’ mean something different than mine? Zero to 60 in 3.2 seconds. That’s Logan for you.

Veronica realizes she has not answered Logan or taken her eyes off him in the space of ten seconds. The layers of tension in the car are getting thick.

“My Dad’s waiting for me.” Veronica panics, clever words failing her.

“He is.”

“I should go.”

“You should go.” Logan still doesn’t look away.

“I should.” Snapping the connection suddenly, Veronica looks down. She hears Logan open the door.

“Right.” Logan puts one leg out and looks back over his shoulder at Veronica with a most unreadable expression. He stands up and closes the door behind him.

Veronica quietly lets out the breath she had been holding and watches him walk around the front of the car, fingertips dragging across the hood as he goes. His eyes move to her, and then he turns toward the gate. Before Logan gets five steps away, Veronica hears her own voice, startling herself.

“Logan, wait.”

He stops, facing away from her for a second before turning on his heel. “Yeah?”

Great. Now what? Veronica looks around the car quickly, hoping for inspiration. Her eyes light on the sunglasses Logan left on the dashboard. She smiles and reaches over to grab them.

She holds them out the window. “You left your sunglasses.”

The side of Logan’s mouth tugs up into a smile as he returns to the car. Leaning over, he braces his hands along the open doorframe, fingers curled inside the car. Veronica looks up at him, instantly calculating the approximate number of inches between her mouth and his. She sets her mouth in a line and throws out her calculations in favor of acting sensible. For the moment.

Veronica holds the sunglasses up again.

“Not mine, Veronica. You gave them to me, remember?”

“But you paid for them.” Veronica tilts her head to the side slightly, squinting up at him. “Well, your Dad did, anyway.”

“Run that one by me again?”

“And the shirt, too. So you can keep that.”

“And I was going to offer it back to you before I went inside.” He smirks at her, kick starting her pulse into a slightly higher paced rhythm. “Mind explaining that, Veronica?”

“I charged it to the room.”

“Even though you are not Aaron Echolls or an Echolls of any kind.”

“I am surprisingly convincing when I need to be, Logan.”

“Of that I have no doubt. Of course, you had a bit of an advantage.”

Veronica frowns at him, straightening her head. “How’s that exactly?”

“I’m not trying to cast aspersions on your ‘convincing’ skills, Veronica. But convincing the staff of a hotel anywhere in a 200 mile radius that you are the hot little blonde with Aaron Echolls? Not hard.”

Veronica’s eyes widen on the word ‘hot’ and Logan pauses, listening to the replay of what he just said in his head. His reaction to his admission is a lopsided smirk at Veronica.

“Convincing them you are dumb enough to be with him? That was probably the real challenge.”

Veronica feels her cheeks grow warm at his second sideways compliment of the last two minutes.

I’ve told my Dad time and again. I’m just not like other girls. Being called smart is what revs this motor.

“Careful, Logan. You are treading dangerously close to paying me a compliment.”

“What can I say, Mars? I live for danger.”

“And cheesy comeback lines, apparently.”

“Those, too.” Logan’s fingers tap on the edge of the window and then he pushes himself off the door, standing up straight. Taking the sunglasses from Veronica’s still outstretched hand, he smacks his uninjured hand on the top of the car and steps back. “Your father is waiting,”

His eyes cut to the gate once and back to hers. The thought that his father may be waiting too hangs unsaid between them. Veronica nods, reaching over to release the parking brake and put the car back into gear. She throws a glance back to Logan, but he has already turned his back and is walking up to the gate.

Eyes on the road ahead, Veronica resists the urge to rest her forehead on the steering wheel. And pound it a few times in hopes of some clarity.

I’m not claiming my life was simple when I woke up yesterday morning, but it was a third grade word problem compared to what I woke up to this morning. That’s me, Veronica Mars: magnet for trouble. And troubled boys, it would seem.

Veronica turns the corner right as she hears a familiar noise from her bag. Stretching over to grab her phone, she smiles when she sees the caller ID. “Hi, Dad. Yeah, I’m on my way...”

If she had looked back again as she drove away, Veronica would have seen Logan pause at the gate and turn in her direction. He watched her car head down the street and disappear around the corner. His eyes stayed locked on the spot where he last saw her for a handful of heartbeats before he dropped his eyes.

Hands jammed in his pockets, Logan waited for the gate to open. And again, if Veronica had been looking, she would have seen him trudging up the driveway, head down. The thing she would have missed was the small smile Logan wore all the way to the front door.

Chapter Text

Veronica sits in her car outside her apartment building, keys in hand, eyes focused in front of her on nothing in particular. A neighbor walks by with his golden lab. A white SUV rolls by, music blaring through the windows. A young woman jogs by, ponytail swaying.

It’s official. Spending the night with Logan Echolls did not stop the world from spinning. Didn’t stop my head, either.

Veronica takes one last look in her rearview mirror, straightening her hair. She struggles to find the expression that will fool her Dad, the same Dad who can smell a lie at fifty paces and crack a suspect in five minutes. Veronica tries for a look that says ‘I stayed up all night talking about a boy’ instead of the more incriminating ‘I stayed up half the night doing a bit more than talking to a boy.’ Not sure if it’s working, she sighs, grabs her bag and throws open the car door.

Best cure for a really weird night? A nice normal day. Veronica gets out of the car and heads for her apartment. Too bad I haven’t had one of those in about a year and a half.

Veronica closes the door behind her and makes a beeline for her bedroom.

“Veronica? Is that my vagabond daughter?”

“That it is!” Veronica calls out in reply. Continuing into her room, Veronica pulls the door shut and starts yanking her dress off. She tugs her hair back into a ponytail and pulls on her bathrobe. A soft rap at the door interrupts her removing her boots. “Just a sec.”

Once she has her feet into slippers, she goes to the door and opens it so her Dad can enter.

He looks surprised at her appearance. “Hello, sweetheart. You have a good time last night?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” Veronica blinks quickly, wishing her mouth would check in with her brain before answering questions.

“Surprisingly?” Keith’s eyebrows lift in question.

“Well, y’know, I’m a little rusty on the whole sleepover scene. Wasn’t sure if it was paint the toenails, then call boys and hang up giggling or vice versa. Tricky waters to navigate.”

“Yes, I can only imagine the pitfalls.” Keith smiles at Veronica before his expression turns more serious. “Listen, I need to talk to you about the case you’ve been helping with.”

“Okaaay. What’s up?” Veronica’s brow furrows slightly.

Keith leads Veronica to the living room and they take seats on the couch and chair. “I need you to back out and leave this case to me now, Veronica.” His expression is dead serious and Veronica sits straight up at his tone.

“What? But Dad, I’ve almost got it. I know I can find him today...”

“See, honey. That’s what I’m worried about. I don’t want you to find him.”

Veronica frowns. “And yet, that’s what the nice Russian lady is paying us to do. I’m sensing a conflict. And hopefully an explanation?”

“First, she’s not such a nice lady. The guy she’s looking for testified against her father and put him in jail. And second, the not-so-nice lady’s two brothers are interested in finding him for a not-so-nice purpose.”

Veronica’s eyes widen as the reality of what her Dad is telling her sinks in. “He’s in witness protection, isn’t he?”

“That’s right. But I’m taking care of it. I’ve already talked to the sheriff’s department...”

Veronica interrupts, “Please tell me you did not involve Deputy Dog?”

“Actually, I worked around him. No matter what, the Sukarenkos won’t be bothering our sleepy little town again.”

Slumping back into the armchair, Veronica takes a deep breath. “So, I almost beat the witness protection program? Is it wrong that I’m the tiniest bit proud?”

“You did learn from the master, Veronica.”

“Soon I will take the pebble from your hand, Dad-san.”

Keith grins. “One day, grasshopper. Now, part two of the conversation is that I have to leave town. One of my more elusive bail jumpers has been spotted in Albuquerque, so I’m catching the next flight out.”

Veronica jumps up. “Need me to make the arrangements?”

Keith waves his hands, making her sit back down. “Already booked. I want you to just relax. Do some homework. Talk on the phone. Plot world domination. Whatever it is you kids today do. Okay?” Leaning forward, Keith plants a kiss on Veronica’s forehead and stands up. He pats her shoulder before heading to his room, still talking.

“I’ll check in with you later tonight.” Keith reappears, duffel bag in tow. “I expect to be back tomorrow night or maybe Monday. Be good?”

“The best.” Veronica glances at his bag. “You’re going right now?”

He smiles at her from the front door, “No rest for the wicked. Or for those chasing ‘em.”

Veronica stands up and walks her Dad to the door, then calls after him as he heads for his car. “Be careful.”

“Always, sweetheart.” Keith waves goodbye as he hops in the car.

Veronica closes the front door, hand resting on it for a few seconds. Pushing off, she heads for her bedroom, immediately flopping down backwards on the bed with a sigh.
Her eyes stay trained on the ceiling for a handful of minutes before shifting to her bag on the floor. Thoughts and flashes of the night before push into her mind’s eye unbidden. Leaning over, she pulls her cell phone out and looks at the display. Her thumb slides over the buttons lightly as she imagines the conversation.

Oh hi, Logan. Yeah, I know I’ve never called you just to chat, so I thought I would give it a whirl. Pure coincidence that it is less than eight hours since I kissed you.

Veronica rolls her eyes and puts the phone on her bedside table. Minutes later, she stands in the shower, the hot water thrumming against her skin calming her nerves somewhat. After spending longer under the spray than strictly necessary, she steps out, skin flushed pink. Wrapped up in a robe, hair wet, she heads back into her room, eyes immediately falling on the phone. The thoughts she dispersed with the pounding water start to regroup immediately. Her skin flushes even pinker as she turns toward getting dressed and pushes thoughts of Logan deeper down.

Just as she starts to tug a shirt over her head, Veronica hears the ring of her cell phone. Her eyes widen and her stomach knots instantly. She yanks the shirt down and darts for the phone. Snatching it up, she answers, her voice higher and breathier than she intended.

“Hello?”

“Veronica? Are you okay?”

Veronica drops down on the edge of her bed, the disappointment making her slump. The weight of that disappointment distresses her much more than she would like.

“Oh hi, Meg. Yeah...fine. How about you?”

“Oh no, you don’t. We’re not doing the small talk thing. I lied to your Dad for you, so it’s time to pay up.”

“Wow, cutthroat Meg. I like this version. Reminds me of myself.” Veronica stalls, trying to figure out what Meg might believe as a reason to be in L.A. all night.

“No stalling. Were you in L.A. with Logan Echolls last night?”

Veronica chokes, which quickly turns into a convulsive coughing fit. “Lo-Logan?” She coughs some more, eyes watering now. “Where did you - why would you think that?”

“That’s not an answer, Veronica.” Meg’s voice is playful, but Veronica has the distinct impression she’s not getting out of this conversation unscathed.

Veronica sighs into the phone. “Okay, I’ll tell you why I was in L.A. if you tell me why you think I was there with Logan Echolls, of all people?” She tries for an incredulous laugh, but is distinctly aware that it falls short.

“Well, I was talking with Duncan at the party last night after you left and he asked me if I knew what was going on with you and Logan. Like if you were on a case for him or what.”

“Okay.” Veronica feels a slight twinge of jealousy at the mention of Duncan chatting with Meg. In the next breath, she finds her mind wandering to Logan for the approximately 47th time since she last saw him. Meg interrupts her reverie.

“And, you told me this morning you were in L.A., so I just put two and two together. Did I come up with four?”

Veronica falls silent, weighing the consequence of telling Meg the truth. She had been so busy through this conversation coming up with a convincing lie, Veronica didn’t give much thought to just admitting what happened. Having a girl friend to confide in was just one of the things Veronica let go of the day she saw Lilly Kane’s blood spilled on cold concrete. The ability to trust followed soon after.

She takes two deep breaths, the decision not one she takes lightly. “You always were good in math, Meg.”

Meg gasps into the phone and Veronica wishes she could take it all back. Rewind the last five minutes and just not answer the phone this time.

“Is there something going on between you two? Why did you go to L.A.? Tell, tell!”

Excellent, excellent questions, all. Veronica feels herself tense, wondering how she can answer questions for Meg she has not been able to answer for herself. She backtracks slightly.

“I can’t talk about...His eyes? His kiss? His unexpected sweetness?...the case, Meg. It’s private.” Veronica holds her breath and waits for a reaction.

“Veronica....you just promised to tell me why! I won’t say a word.”

Veronica pauses, not sure if she is ready to actually trust Meg. “I was there to help him with a case. And one thing led to another and I ended up staying there. Just to...keep an eye on him.”

Not to mention two lips. But that’s another part of the story.

“I’m asking one more time. Is there something going on between you two?”

Veronica grimaces, wanting to know the answer to that one herself. “All I can say is...maybe.”

“Oh my gosh.”

“Meg...” She feels the panic welling up again.

“But how? When? And to tell the truth, I thought you two didn’t really...get along.”

“That’s a terribly polite way to put it. And well, also true...” Veronica’s voice shakes the tiniest bit and she hopes hopes hopes Meg doesn’t notice.

There is quiet over the phone line for a moment. “You kissed him, didn’t you?” She noticed.

Into the breach, Veronica.

“Yes.” Her hand convulses on the phone, clutching it tightly. Truth telling always makes her stomach clench.

“Wow.”

“Twice.”

“What?”

“We kissed twice.”

“Holy moley. This is big, right? I mean, it seems big.”

“I...don’t know, Meg.”

“I get it. You don’t have to actually say uncle, Veronica. I’ll let you off the hook...for now. But I’m not done with you, missy.”

Veronica can see Meg’s mock serious face in her mind’s eye and it makes her smile despite her worry. “Not a word, Meg. It’s all very - unsettled.”

“My lips, they are sealed.” She pauses. “So, how’s the search for my Mr. Right going? How’s that for a segue, eh?”

“Oh, you’re a smooth one, Meg Manning. And I have an idea for your case, I’ll follow it up today, okay?”

“Sure. Call me later?”

“You bet.”

“Bye.” Even in saying goodbye, Meg’s voice slips into a singsong teasing tone.

Veronica grimaces slightly. “Bye.” She pulls the phone from her ear and pushes the end button. Veronica stares blankly at the phone for a minute.

Veronica mentally backs away from her reasoning for revealing this big secret to Meg so easily. The implications of both the truth, the trust and the event itself have her mind spinning faster than ever. She refocuses on the phone and sees that she has absently scrolled through her contacts and is hovering over ‘Logan.’ With a start, she snaps the phone closed.

“Back to work, Veronica.” Back to distracting yourself.

Chapter Text

Many hours later, Veronica crashes back into her apartment, slinging her keys on the counter and her bag in the nearest chair. She drops down on the couch with a sigh.

Well, that was not a normal day. Of course.

She had walked into the sheriff’s office with two purposes earlier that day. The first one was to convince Carl to come with her to Manny’s and get a sketch of Meg’s mystery admirer. Talking a police sketch artist into working for no money to generate a drawing of a high school kid who sent anonymous flowers to one of her friends was easy as pie compared to the other task she faced.

Then there was task number two, which had been a two-step process. First, there was telling Leo the favor he did for her by tracking phone numbers almost got a guy in the federal witness protection found by the mob. After that, the process of de-flirting with Leo came easier than expected. Veronica rubs her eyes, remembering the hurt in his eyes when he saw she was retreating.

He’s convinced I used him again. And I don’t have much proof I didn’t. Maybe I’ve been using him this whole time?

It’s the only explanation Veronica can come up with for why she would push away a nice upstanding young - okay, slightly older - man for a screwed up teenager like Logan.

Maybe it’s got something to do with the fact that I’m a screwed up teenager, too?

She had naively believed she could just go into the sheriff’s office to get Leo off the phone number search and then leave to talk to Carl, but it became obvious within minutes that Leo wanted to pick up the flirtation where they left off the day before. Veronica had to admit to herself right then that her heart wasn’t in it anymore.

Where her heart is at this exact moment is under serious debate.

Before she can consider it further, she slides her phone out of her pocket and flips it open. Setting her jaw, she quickly toggles through her options and hits Send. When the first ring goes through, she feels slightly queasy with nervousness. On the second ring, she starts to hold her breath. The third ring causes a mix of fear and disappointment.

He’s not answering. Lots of good reasons for that. Busy. Asleep. Drunk. Trapped under something heavy. She shakes her head, realizing one of the first three is much more likely.

The sound of Logan’s voice snaps her attention back to the phone.

“.... Logan with today’s inspirational greeting: ‘A slip of the foot you may soon recover, but a slip of the tongue you may never get over.’ Benjamin Franklin. Leave a message. beep”

Veronica is so flustered by the way Logan lingered over the word tongue, making that single syllable impossibly dirty, she snaps the phone shut without speaking. She feels herself flush slightly at the implication of his message.

And I’m going with number three on my list of reasons. He sounded on the drunk side. No other way he could make an innocent quote by a founding father sound so naughty.

She puts the phone down on the coffee table, eyeing it like it might jump back in her hand of its own accord. Veronica hops up to make dinner, if making microwave mac and cheese could be categorized as ‘making dinner.’

She is settled into the couch, her bowl of ‘dinner' sitting empty on the side table, when a knock at the door distracts her from the Simpsons blaring on the television. Grabbing the remote and shutting off the TV, she feels her heart race a little.

When did I turn into this girl? Heart a-flutter because the asshole turned suitor could possibly maybe be at my door unannounced? The surge of sudden frustration at her somewhat involuntary reaction to Logan fades as she walks to the door. His lack of a phone call all day has only fed into her belief that last night was a fluke of some kind. An empathy-driven lapse of judgment on her part and irrational sorrow driving him to his own mistake.

So, why her heart drops into her stomach when she finds Meg on the other side of her door is a question she doesn’t really want to answer. Veronica stares blankly at Meg a few minutes later, after the reveal that she is now accompanying Meg to the school 80’s dance.

“You’re kidding, right? A school function which requires me to dress in costume from one of the least tasteful decades of the last century? Have you been reading my nightmare journal again?”

Meg grins, pushing past a stunned Veronica and heading for her room. “Now, I’ve got a few options with me, so you can pick what you want to wear.”

Veronica trails behind her. “Did you hear me, Meg? There’s no way...”

“...remember that little favor I did for you this morning?”

Veronica pauses in her doorway, watching Meg lay out various skirts and tops on the bed. Meg studiously avoids looking at her.

“Ouch. So, dressing me up like a tramp and dragging me to a room full of people who already think I am one, is the payback?”

“You’d also be doing me a favor. I want to go and I hate the idea of going alone. Please, Veronica?” Meg looks up hopefully.

Sighing, Veronica enters the room and surveys the clothes on the bed, hands on her hips. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Meg claps her hands together and starts pulling outfits together.

* * *

Strapped into one of the more uncomfortable outfits she’s ever worn, Veronica flinches as Meg brings the crimping iron a bit too close to her face.

“Tell me again why you have this insidious device of hair torture?”

Meg squeezes another swatch of Veronica’s blonde between the paddles of the iron. “Moment of weakness. Seemed like a fun idea at the time.”

“That must have been some time you were having.” Veronica grimaces as Meg releases the latest bit of hair, which is now in kinked waves. A familiar sound faintly reaches her ears. It takes a second for her to register it. “Oh, that’s my cell. Be right back.” Veronica ducks away from the iron and makes a beeline for the living room.

She grabs the phone and opens it in one motion. “Yeah?”

“Is that how you always answer the phone, Mars?”

Oh god. Logan. Feeling wholly unprepared to suddenly speak to the object of her confused and possibly twisted affections, Veronica gulps and finds herself short on words. A rare event.

“Oh! Um, hey.” Her voice practically screams her nervousness and she quickly hears it echoed over the phone line.

“Hey.”

This conversation is off to a rousing start. Veronica glances over her shoulder towards her room where Meg is checking her hair.

“It’s Logan. You busy?”

Like I didn’t know it was him on the word ‘is’.

“No, uh... well, I’m going out soon.”

“Why, Veronica. You’ve turned into quite the socialite.”

Veronica looks down at the ensemble Meg has just squeezed her into and grimaces. “Logan, somehow I don’t think a bustier and lace skirt are all the rage on the debutante scene.”

Logan falls silent on the other end and Veronica cringes at her description. Before she can explain, she hears him snort a little laugh. “Hot date?” She could swear there is the slightest tightness in his tone, but she immediately decides she imagined it.

“Yeah, Meg is smoking hot.”

This time, Logan chokes. “Wha - what?”

She ignores him. “We’re going to the 80’s dance at school.”

“Oh.”

Silence fills the air and Veronica resists the urge to ask Logan why he called her in the first place.

“Veronica, I’ve got more crimping to do!” Meg calls from Veronica’s room.

“Look, Logan. I...have to go.”

“Right. So, Madonna, right? Lucky Star or Like A Virgin?”

This time it’s Veronica’s turn to stutter. “Wh-what?”

“Which are you dressed like?”

“How did you - yes.” Veronica smiles into the phone. “And Lucky Star. All black. Definite boytoy territory.”

His deep laugh over the phone sends a shot of warmth through Veronica. Before he can comment, she interjects. “The belt. It says boytoy. Remember?”

“I remember, Veronica.” The voice reaching her through the phone is warm and full of thinly veiled suggestion.

He’s gone and changed subjects on me again, I think. What exactly is he remembering?

Feeling the familiar flush building, Veronica escapes. “I should go.”

“Have fun at the dance, Veronica.” The line disconnects before she can reply and Veronica stares at the phone, frowning. He wanted to say something else, she’s sure of it. Before she can settle on what it could be, Meg’s voice chirps to her from the other room once again.

“Coming...”

* * *

The night air chases goosebumps up Veronica’s unclad arms as she breaks free of the stifling air inside the school. Hot tears slip over her cheeks despite her best attempts at holding them back. Wiping her face with the back of scratchy lace gloves, she rounds the back of her car and crashes directly into...

“Logan?!”

His arms shoot out to grab her arms, holding her steady. She looks up at him and sees an instant reaction there to her tears.

“Veronica? What happened? Did someone-” He looks over her shoulder menacingly at the school and Veronica experiences the unfamiliar experience of having a boy willing to defend her honor. The fact that the boy is Logan actually exceeds her ability to process it.

“No, no. It’s not like that. It - it’s nothing.”

Logan lifts a hand from her upper arm to gesture at her face. “Clearly.”

She is relieved to feel no new tears forming and she deftly steers the questions back toward Logan.

“What are you doing here, anyway? You’re about as up for school functions as...well, I am.”

Neatly dodging her question, Logan replies, “Where’s Meg? Did you two have a fight?”

Veronica wonders how long they can maintain this conversation without actually answering any of the questions posed. “Yeah, I totally kicked her ass. I fight dirty.”

“I figured. Meg looks like a hair puller, though.”

“Luckily the two cans of hairspray on my ‘do tonight make it impervious to harm.”

Logan chuckles, fingers slipping into her kinked and stiffened hair. “And here I thought this was natural.”

Veronica turns her eyes up to him, instantly noticing that he still has one hand around her arm and the other in her hair. The proximity of his body is unnerving to say the least. He sways the tiniest bit and Veronica realizes something. Logan has been drinking. Possibly a lot.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“I’ve had a few.” He grins at her, hand sliding down her arm slowly.

“A few what? Bottles?” Veronica cocks her head at him. She doesn’t miss the look in his eyes, either. The sadness hasn’t gone away. It’s just drowning in whiskey.

“So, really. What’s going on? Why did you leave?”

“If you must know, Meg and Duncan are in there dancing. Which is a good reason for me to be out here. I’ve never made a good third wheel.”

“Meg dumped you for Duncan? That bitch.” An involuntary smile tugs at Veronica’s mouth and is instantly matched by Logan’s.

Veronica steps back slightly, bumping into her car. Her eyes drop down over Logan’s outfit and back up to his face, surprise etched on her features. “Are you dressed up for the dance?”

Logan steps away, breaking contact with Veronica and spins around once, hands going to flip his blazer’s collar up around his neck. “Nothing gets past you.”

Veronica tilts her head and takes in the outfit. Jeans. White button-up shirt, untucked. Likely the same one from this morning. A blue blazer, collar upturned, sleeves rolled up. “I think I need a hint. Unless it’s just generic 80’s?”

“Nothing generic about me, Madonna. Okay, I hate the paparazzi.”

“I know you do. What’s that have to do with the outfit?”

“No, I mean my character does. Well, I do too, so I figured I could be more convincing this way.”

Veronica chews her lip, thinking. “A celebrity who hates the paparazzi? You’re going to have to narrow it down.”

“Oh wait, I have props.” Logan pulls open his jacket and slides a flask out of his inside pocket. “I’m a big fan of the contents of this little guy. My character, I mean. I’m too young.” Logan unscrews the top and takes a swig.

Veronica shakes her head.

Logan pauses, his eyes giving Veronica a once-over that makes her instantly more aware that she is wearing very little. “And I like blondes.”

Veronica swallows, hard. “You or your character?”

“Both.” Logan winks as he takes one more drink and then slides the flask back in his jacket.

Veronica feels herself unable to fight back a smile and realizes she’s not thought of Duncan since she crashed into Logan five minutes ago. She looks down, and then at Logan, thinking.

He steps closer to her, fully in her personal space. Veronica tries to back up, but all she feels is the cool glass of her car window. She has nowhere to go.

“Do you need one more hint?” Logan’s breath is warm, whiskey-scented and very very close.

Veronica’s hands slide down to press against the car, the cool metal breaking the heat coursing through her. Logan leans toward her, head inclined.

“Maybe just one more.” Veronica licks her lips, her eyes sliding to his mouth and up to his eyes in a heartbeat.

Veronica’s eyes slide closed as she feels Logan’s hand slide up the side of her neck and into her hair. The trail of warmth across her chilled skin makes her shiver. His other arm slips around her waist and pulls her closer, giving over some of his warmth. And then with a shocking amount of tenderness, his lips press against hers. Veronica’s hands come forward to grab his jacket as the kiss continues. Logan’s mouth moves on hers, increasing the pressure. Just as quick as it started, the kiss ends. Veronica looks up at him, their mouths a breath apart. Veronica has her wits about her enough to breathe out a question. “Was that the hint?”

Logan nods, hands slowly releasing her as he steps back. He looks nervous for the first time since he arrived and if the butterflies banging against her ribcage are any indication, Veronica is nervous, too.

“Something you or your character would do?” Veronica gives herself only a split second to decide how she wants him to answer that question.

“Both.” Logan smiles a little and nods at her outfit and for the first time, Veronica looks down at her confection of lace and corsetry and then at his outfit. When she looks up, the truth is all over her face.

“Sean Penn?” She grins, knowing she’s figured it out.

“Someone give the lady a prize. By the way, nice outfit.”

Let’s recap. Logan dressed like Sean Penn, knowing I was dressed like Madonna? I hope this doesn’t mean we are destined to make horrible movies together.

“Yeah, it’s both binding and chafing. I’ll remember to thank Meg for it later.”

“So, did you want go back in?” Logan gestures at the door.

“Nah. The music sucks. It’s all from, like, the 80’s or something.” Veronica wrinkles her nose, smiling.

“Sounds awful. Thanks for the warning.”

“Sure.” Veronica darts her eyes down to the ground, back to the school and up at Logan. He rubs his hand across the back of his neck, glancing away from the school and then back to her. Veronica toys with one of the rosaries around her neck before realizing she is drawing Logan’s eyes right to her bustier. She drops her hands suddenly. Logan jams his hands in the pockets of his blazer, eyes to the ground.

Veronica blurts out, “You wanna get out of here?”

When Logan’s eyes lift, the haunted look fades momentarily. He smiles at her.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter Text

Veronica sits with her hand on the keys, keys in the ignition, and no idea where she is heading. She glances to her right as Logan slides into the car a bit clumsily and closes the door. When he turns to look at her, she is staring out the front windshield. He can see the faintest flush in her cheeks and wonders if he put it there with his actions in the parking lot. Suddenly, Veronica speaks without looking at him. Logan turns his full attention to her tense profile.

“Where to?”

Way to think this through, Veronica. You’ve got Logan Echolls in your car and no idea what to do with him. Aside from the obvious.

The flush deepens and Veronica resists the urge to touch her lips, the feel of his still lingering there.

“Anywhere, Veronica.”

She sighs a little despite herself. “Anywhere? Could you be more...” Veronica finally turns her head and catches the full weight of his look like a solid thump to her chest. ...heartbreaking? Intense? “...specific?”

Veronica finishes her question in a voice she hardly recognizes as her own. She then tries and fails to look away.

Careful, Veronica. Another few seconds and it will be tears and kissing all over again.

With the distinct impression she might have been leaning closer to Logan, Veronica turns, eyes front, and cranks the ignition.

“Somewhere...else.” Logan’s voice is unnaturally soft and his eyes are cast down when she peeks at him from the corner of hers.

It’s the kind of answer Veronica would usually pick apart with a snide remark, but her heart’s not in it. Logan wants to escape and he’s picked her as his accomplice, for a list of reasons both new and for the moment, unsettling.

Veronica nibbles on her lip in thought. Aiding and abetting it is. She imagines Logan is keeping the bulk of his grief at arm’s length through a combination of drink, denial and for as long as she allows it, her.

“I know a place.” Veronica’s remark is left unexplained and as vague as can be but Logan accepts it with a nod. If she had any doubt he is on shaky ground, it disappears with that smallest of movements.

Licking newly dry lips, Veronica puts the car in reverse and backs out of the parking space. With one more look at Logan, she throws the car into gear and leaves the high school behind. The ride through the streets of Neptune is quiet. It is broken only by the drumming of Logan’s fingers on his thigh and Veronica’s two minutes of fiddling with the radio before turning it off in favor of silence. After ten minutes, the streetlights pass at longer intervals and the volume of traffic drops to almost zero. The road she finally turns on is nearly deserted and only lit by her headlights and the light of a three-quarters moon overhead. If Logan realizes where they are heading, he doesn’t let on.

Veronica pulls off to the side of the road and comes to a stop on the sand. Turning off the car, Veronica glances at Logan. Without looking back at her, he unlatches the car door and stands up and out, stumbling slightly.

Veronica follows quickly, catching his arm as he nearly falls down in the sand.

“So, did you devote the entire day to getting wasted or just the last six or seven hours?” Veronica’s voice takes on its normal snap and Logan’s eyes jerk to hers in surprise.

And then he grins. “Never question my work ethic when it comes to getting blasted, Veronica. I put in a solid eight hour day on this buzz.” He holds up both hands, eight fingers up.

There’s the Logan I know and have completely mixed feelings about.

She tugs Logan back towards the car and nearly wipes out into the sand herself. Logan’s left hand comes out to steady her.

“Easy, slugger. I thought you were the designated driver.”

“It’s the boots, Logan. Not exactly beachwear.”

His eyes drop to her feet, eyebrows arching in surprise. “My bad last night. Those are clearly your Miss Veronica Mistress of Pain boots. Damn.”

Though she knows what they look like, Veronica glances down too and shakes her head, biting back a laugh as she remembers the conversation from the hotel. Meanwhile, the stiletto-heeled black boots are gradually sinking into the sand, making her less and less agile.

He’s not wrong.

“They’re not even mine, Logan.”

“Oh, so Meg is the Mistress of Pain?”

“No! I mean, well, they are her boots. Or maybe she got them from Lizzie. Either way, not mine. And for the record, absolutely killing me.”

Without asking, Veronica puts a hand on Logan’s shoulder and leans down to start unlacing one of the boots. She teeters to one side as their difference in height throws her off. Logan catches her for the second time in a minute, though his own balance is not at all perfect.

“Are you sure I’m the one who’s been drinking all day?”

“Are you?”

Logan pauses, cocks his head to the side in thought. After a moment, he nods once. “It was definitely me. Yes, yes. Definitely. There was that super fun thing with my Dad and then, yes. Drinks ahoy.”

Veronica looks up sharply at Logan, her half-laced boot forgotten. “What thing with your Dad?”

Logan tries and fails to look nonchalant. His tendency to speak without thinking is never more of a problem than with Veronica. She doesn’t miss a thing. “We had a man-to-man. Asshole-to-son. Whatever.” He waves his hand dismissively.

Veronica’s forehead wrinkles. “Did he...?” Her words are loaded with meaning, her eyes cut to his back and then to his face, searching.

Logan flinches slightly at the naked concern on her face. It’s a shade too close to pity for his comfort. He sighs deeply before answering, realizing he is now going to have to live with the fact that Veronica knows one of his darkest secrets. He reminds himself to hate Trina a little bit more the next time he sees her for good measure. “No, it was a non-contact chat. He wanted to have a little heart-to-heart about my poor dead mother. How she would really like it if the two of us could get along.”

He shoves his hands deep in his jacket pockets before continuing, eyes on the sand at his feet. The lack of inflection in his voice upsets Veronica almost as much as his words. He plunges forward, deciding if she knows some of it, she might as well know the whole truth. “I told him I had the perfect plan. He could stop beating the shit out of me and I would promise not to kill him. Cross my heart, hope to die, etcetera.” He pauses, looks up. “Things got less friendly after that.”

“Hence, the drinking. I’m...sorry, Logan.”

“Yeah. I know. Speaking of drinking...” Logan pulls his flask out and takes another swig. When Veronica realizes she is watching his neck muscles work as he swallows, she shakes herself. Her building attraction to Logan requires her to make a distinct effort to remember who she’s dealing with and what he’s currently dealing with. Not the stuff of solid decisions. Veronica kneels down to undo her boots, mind working furiously.

My options as I see them: One. Quiz him more about his Dad. Two. Quiz him about all this random kissing we’ve been doing. Three. Run back to the car and speed away, forgetting all this ever happened.

Both boots undone, moment effectively stalled, Veronica stands up and faces Logan.

Four: What were the first three again?

He’s no longer looking her direction, but has turned to face the water, so she is greeted with his profile. His eyes scan the horizon, and are blinking slightly more rapidly than normal. Veronica’s gaze turns to follow his across the dark expanse of water gleaming with reflected moonlight and she nearly smacks herself right in the forehead.

Brilliant. What’s the first place to bring a boy whose mother just drowned herself? The beach. She grits her teeth at her own thoughtlessness.

Veronica puts her hand lightly on Logan’s forearm and he jumps.

“This was the wrong place, Logan. I just...I come here to think sometimes.”

Logan’s eyes drop to the sand in front of him then cast out along the shoreline. “It’s fine, Veronica. I can’t just avoid water forever. Besides, I remember this place, too. I haven’t been here since...”

“...Homecoming.”

“Yeah.”

Veronica cuts her eyes from Logan to the shoreline and back again. She swears he sounds almost nostalgic, which is a word she never expected to use to describe one Logan Echolls. Mostly because he never admits to missing the past and certainly not in front of her. She pushes her boots off and while he’s not looking at her, Veronica shimmies out of her lace tights and lets her bare toes wriggle into the cool sand. She walks by Logan and starts down the beach, hoping to get him to follow. With the briefest of pauses, he pivots and follows her until they fall in step. One of his big strides to two of hers.

Whenever she comes here, Veronica can imagine the four of them strolling along in their formal clothes, Lilly’s laughter bouncing off the water in waves. Her own giggles filling the nearly vacant beach. She looks over at Logan, remembers how he smiled that night. She hasn’t seen him that happy since. The way he looked at Lilly, the way she looked at Duncan. She was sure none of it would ever end. Of course, that meant it all came tumbling down around her ears soon after.

Logan stops walking abruptly. Veronica gets two steps ahead of him before she realizes it. She turns around and faces him, expecting him to be off in his own head again. Instead, he has her firmly in his sights and she wonders what thought grabbed him so intensely.

“You ever think the two of us would have been better off if we’d never met the Kanes?”

The question startles her to the point that Veronica’s mouth hangs open. “What do you mean, Logan?”

He runs his tongue across his bottom lip, eyes serious. “It’s just that...it hurts, right? It hurts to...” He shakes his head once and sighs, seeming to think twice about his next words. “It’s stupid.” Logan starts to walk again, but Veronica moves to block him. Their eyes meet and she narrows hers slightly.

“Tell me.”

When he looks to the water and back to her, clearly working through an inner struggle, Veronica shakes her head.

“Wait, I know what the problem is. It’s this, isn’t it?”

Veronica gestures up and down her lace-covered outfit and at her face and hair. “Can’t talk to me seriously while I look like Madonna’s stand-in?”

A smile threatens to break Logan’s serious expression in two. Veronica unties the lace scarf holding her hair up and runs her hand through her hair, breaking some of the hairspray’s hold on it. She removes the huge star earrings and pulls the necklaces and rosaries over her head. “Better?”

Logan takes his time looking her up and down. “Wellll...it’s a bit more concealing than I like, but I’ll work around it.”

Veronica puts her hands on her hips. “Logan, I am virtually in my underwear here.”

He lifts his eyebrows, eyes showing some of the spark that’s been missing. “Are you? I didn’t even realize.” Logan’s faux innocent look is as effective as ever. Meaning not at all.

She rolls her eyes and gestures at him with both hands. “Enough. Spill.”

He takes a deep breath and sits down on the sand, as if the weight of what he’ll say next won’t permit him to stand. He sits, knees bent, elbows resting on them, eyes on the glassy black water. Veronica takes a seat next to him, immediately realizing this outfit is not meant for beach sitting. She jumps as the cold sand hits her barely covered rear.

Logan cuts a look at her and immediately takes his jacket off. He hands it to her and she smiles, unsure what to do with this unexpected kindness. It takes more than twenty four hours to wipe away a year of flinching in his presence. Every nice gesture in the last day has left her on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. So far, no dropping to speak of.

“Thanks.” Veronica finds that to be a safe enough response and stands up to pull the jacket on. She shivers happily at the borrowed warmth she gains when she slides her arms in. Borrowed warmth from Logan and it feels better than she would have guessed. She tucks it under her and sits back down, snuggling into it. Logan watches the whole scene with interest, a smile touching his mouth.

Logan being nice to me without being asked. That's one for the books.

In favor of finding out what he meant by the remark about the Kanes, Veronica drops the question of how different he is treating her. For now.

“Do you love Duncan?”

Logan could have announced he was running away to join a monastery and it would have startled Veronica only slightly more.

“Duncan?” Mind whirling, she repeats what he said, desperately wondering why he said it.

“Yeah, dark hair, blue eyes, few inches shorter than me. Pretty sure you know him.”

Veronica purses her lips and delivers a withering look to Logan. “It's not an easy question, Logan.”

“Actually, it is. Kind of a yes or no thing.” He laces his hands in front of him, but turns his head to fix her with a solid look. Veronica can feel the weight of his stare on her as she turns away and sees if there is an answer out on the water waiting for her.

“I think I did. I don't know if I do.” Her voice is soft and steady.

“And it hurts, right? That it didn’t work out?”

“Yes, Logan, it hurts.” Veronica snaps, wondering why Logan is harping on this.

“So, do you wish you'd never loved him? Never met him?”

“Oh.” Veronica blames the confusing fact that they are having this conversation in the first place for her slow uptake on Logan's meaning. It’s hard to remember that he’s the one who’s been drinking. Just being around him this much is making her feel like she’s been pounding ‘em back.

Logan’s voice grows harder, more desperate. “I mean, is it worth it? Jesus Christ. I've loved two women in my life so far and they're both dead, Veronica. Dead. Fucking dead.” The break in his voice on that last word lifts Veronica’s hand to his arm. The small warmth of it there draws his attention and his eyes.

“So, my real question is...is it worth it? If I never loved Lilly, never loved my Mom...I wouldn’t feel this way. It wouldn’t...hurt like this. Would it?”

Veronica starts to feel a bit of panic as she sees Logan can’t seem to stop talking. Copious amounts of alcohol have finally poured over the dam, bringing his emotions and this torrent of words with it.

She takes her hand back, starts to fiddle with the cuff of the jacket sleeve. “I guess you’re right, Logan. It wouldn’t hurt like this. But you know, I loved Lilly, too.” Veronica feels the pain rush back into her like the tide coming in. “I wouldn’t trade it, though. I wouldn’t give up all the times we had together. I wouldn’t give her up. She was my best friend.” She says the last two words so quietly, the breeze off the water nearly takes them.

She can feel rather than see Logan turn to look at her. The specter of a dead girl they both loved seems to hang there in the suddenly still night air.

“So, you still miss her?”

Veronica still has to get used to Logan’s gentle voice, the one he used with Lilly when he thought no one was around to hear. She sometimes thought of it as her own little secret about him and kept it all to herself. The weighty emotional experience of the last twenty four hours has rubbed her emotions raw and she can only nod. A few seconds pass and she clears her throat, finding more words.

“I miss how it used to be.”

“You mean when you and Duncan were together?”

“When all of us were friends.” Veronica thought of dating Duncan, hanging out with Lilly, and the funny little side friendship she and Logan always had. He teased her. He made her giggle and turn red in the face. She gave it back to him in her innocent way back then. The two of them ganged up on the Kanes on occasion, laughing conspiratorially. At least, they used to. She feels a couple of tears sting her eyes and tries to blink them away.

As if reading her mind, Logan answers. “I can only try to fix one of those things, Veronica.”

Veronica turns to him, eyes sad. “I’m not asking you to fix-” Her voice catches in her throat as he covers her hand with his own, fingers lacing into hers.

And it’s the softest kiss she’s ever felt. A brush of lips across her cheek, a trace of warmth and she wonders how he moved so quickly that she never saw it coming. It passes so quickly she barely has time to register what happened before it is over and Logan is looking at her again.

And this look is loaded with intention.

Something tells me he’s looking for more than the friendship we had. Fixing that would be a good starting place. We, on the other hand, decided to start by making out. Good plan, Mars.

He stares at her, eyes glittering in the dimness. He looks so intense and sad, so enamored and yet lost. Veronica has no idea how one body could contain so many warring emotions and still manage to convey them through eyes heavy with drink.

“Logan...” Her voice is questioning, but she doesn’t actually ask one. It’s too blunt, too direct to ask for specifics from someone reeling. The fact is, he keeps kissing her and she wants to know why. But despite how uncomfortable it makes her, Veronica is learning patience with Logan. Two words she’s never put together before. Patience. Logan.

His fingers slide out of hers and she cringes inwardly. And quickly, a mild surge of frustration fills her. She likes answers and every moment with Logan is only giving her more questions. She can feel him retreat, bit by bit. Veronica tries to remember he’s been drinking, he’s been grieving and he’s been having no comfort but her. If she begins to pull away, he will almost certainly go under. She can feel the truth, deep in her bones like an ache that won’t go away.

Her hand reaches out to cradle his, the flash of white catching her eye. She lifts his bandaged hand closer, eyes lifting to his in question.

“How’s it feeling?”

His eyes soften on her, gratitude for a subject change visible there. “Looks like I won’t lose the hand thanks to the prompt medical care I received.” He smiles at her, a glimmer of white teeth as he ducks his head halfway without losing eye contact. “It feels fine. Good, even.”

And as Veronica continues to hold his hand, she wonders how he does that. He says one thing but all that echoes through her mind is what he’s left unspoken. The implication is right there, just under the surface.

And that’s one answer she has come up with so far tonight for all her questions. There is a lot going on under the surface of Logan Echolls.

She wants to be able to read his mind, however drink-addled it might be. Veronica doesn’t know if he doesn’t want to hate her or if he’s just tired of hating her or if he never hated her at all. Because that last one is what has turned out to be the truth for her. She never hated him.

In the past year, she hated what he was trying to do to her and the fact that he knew her well enough to hurt her in the most tender areas. She hated how he looked at her, how he talked to her, how he forgot all the secret jokes they shared and the lazy days they spent together with Duncan and Lilly. Despite all that, she could never quite hate him.

Now, in the past twenty four hours, Veronica has begun to think she may have moved well past not hating him and into a completely new place altogether. When Logan’s warm hand squeezes hers for a moment, she’s pretty sure she’s not alone.

Chapter Text

Veronica is not sure how long they sit there, but it’s long enough for her to realize she is sitting on a moonlit beach with Logan Echolls, holding hands. It takes all her willpower to not start laughing in a kind of manic, desperate way at this realization.

Here I thought the bar was set last night for Weirdest Possible Night Starring Logan Echolls. We have now leaped over that bar. Or possibly limbo-ed under it. And the night’s not over.

The quickest of peeks at Logan from the corner of her eye leads Veronica to think the night may be far from over. He is teetering, once again, and for the umpteenth time since last night.

Her thumb rubs lightly on the back of his hand, and that smallest movement drags his eyes from their study of the horizon. Logan looks down at their hands and Veronica is sure he too is realizing the strangeness of the situation.

And yet, neither of them lets go.

His reaction is the smallest quirk of his lips as he studies her. Veronica tries to look away, but fails. Logan looks around him, at the beach, the water and back to her.

“This is the place, isn’t it?”

Veronica’s brows draw together. “I think your train of thought left the station without me, Logan.”

If she didn’t think it impossible, Veronica would swear his look on her is nearly playful. That he can swing between extremes like this should no longer be a surprise after the last twenty four hours.

“This is the site of your naked indiscretion.” His tongue catches the corner of his mouth. His words are more of a statement than a question.

“My what? My what?” Veronica lets go of Logan’s hand and smacks him on the arm. She feels herself heating up at his words and the penetrating look in his eyes. For a moment, she regrets letting go of him because now it is far too awkward to take his hand again.

Logan gestures at the sand in front of them. “I was merely suggesting that this lovely stretch of beach was the launching pad for your recent bout of skinny dipping.”

Veronica gapes at him, but the truth is written all over her face and if he had any doubt, it is erased instantly. He laughs, the sound welcome to both of them.

Taking a cue from his behavior, Veronica blurts, “Logan Echolls, are you thinking about me naked?” Veronica closes her eyes immediately, wondering just how many times tonight her mouth is going to speak without checking in first. When she opens them, Logan is staring at her.

If he wasn’t, he certainly is now.

Veronica is instantly glad she has Logan’s jacket covering her nearly bare torso. It provides some barrier to the intensity of his eyes. Not much, but some.

“In that outfit, it’s not much of a stretch, Veronica.” He grins at her, lifting his head as if he is peeking inside his jacket. She tugs it around her more tightly, scowling at him, but there is no menace in it.

“Stop.” She slips, and her scowl twists into a small smile.

“Stop what?” Logan plays innocent, the sharp edges rubbed off by the flow of alcohol.

“Looking at me.”

Logan obediently looks back out at the water, grinning broadly.

Veronica shoves him in the arm, tipping him slightly sideways.

“What? I did what you asked.”

“And while that was shocking in and of itself, the fact is you’re still thinking about...me.” Veronica realizes she is very close to blushing. And even more surprising, she is actually enjoying herself.

“You can’t make me stop thinking, Veronica.” The admittance that he is doing exactly what she is accusing him of does not deter Logan in the slightest.

“See, I thought you had handled that one all by yourself. That is, if your grades are any indication.” Veronica smiles at Logan, falling into the rhythm easily. It’s familiar ground for the two of them. The lack of bite in the comments is what feels new.

“How would you...never mind. I know, I know. You know people.” Logan nods, lips pursed, amusement in his eyes.

And I’m starting to think I know you. Veronica looks him over right as Logan catches her eye. And vice versa.

“That I do.” She looks away, still faintly smiling.

A more comfortable silence falls over them, less loaded with sorrow and anxiousness than before. Logan lies back on the sand, hands clasped behind his head. His eyes scan the sky, as he did the water. Veronica looks at him and hesitates briefly before mimicking his position. She feels the sand in her fingers, a little on her neck.

I am going to have sand in so many places sand does not belong.

She shakes her head imperceptibly and tries to get comfortable. At least in this position, she can stop herself from focusing on the way Logan’s shirt - the very shirt she picked out for him - is straining at the buttons in this new position. Veronica adjusts her position slightly, feeling the cool sand beneath her bare legs.

There is a hitch in his voice when Logan breaks the quiet. “I usually can’t get you to stop talking, Veronica.” She knows what he wants. Distraction.

Veronica smiles. “Ha ha, Logan.” She thinks of something to distract him from thoughts of his mother.

“What’s your sign, Logan?”

He lifts his head at that, looks over at Veronica, eyebrows lifted near his hairline. “Veronica Mars, are you hitting on me?”

She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t look at him. “Just tell me.”

Logan settles back down. He waits just long enough to nearly exasperate Veronica before answering. When she opens her mouth to ask again, he cuts her off “Aquarius.”

Veronica frowns, eyes searching the sky. “Damn. I don’t know that one.”

“Sure you do. It’s got something to do with water, if I’m not mistaken. And hippies. The Age of and all.”

She gestures at the sky, ignoring Logan’s comments. “I mean, I don’t know that constellation.”

“Oh.” Logan looks at the sky anew, seeking out individual stars instead of staring blankly as he had been. Veronica is surprised when he asks with apparent genuine curiosity, “Which ones do you know?”

Veronica scoots closer to Logan, their bodies nearly brushing together. With her head near his, she points up and slightly left. Logan’s eyes follow her arm into the sky. “There. See those three stars in a line?”

“No.” Logan turns his face slightly toward Veronica, the scent of her distracting him.

She glances to the side and sees that he is not looking up. “Logan. You can’t see the stars unless you look at the sky.”

He doesn’t release her eyes for a few tight seconds. Finally, he angles his head to look straight up her arm again. He lifts his arm next to hers and briefly counts off three stars with his finger. “Those three?”

Veronica smiles and nods, drops her arm, leaving it draped across her stomach. “That is the belt of Orion, which just happens to be my favorite constellation. Below it is his sword and then his legs go...”

“You have a favorite constellation?” Logan’s voice is incredulous as he interrupts.

“Don’t mock. Some people do.” Veronica falls quiet for a minute.

The plan was to distract him, Veronica. Not reveal your own childhood secrets.

“Why do you have a favorite, Veronica?” She can’t read anything from his tone of voice. He almost sounds simply interested, but Veronica has a hard time believing it.

Oh yeah. This is one of your better plans. Like clockwork.

“It’s a long story.”

“You have somewhere to be?”

Veronica smiles wryly, realizing she really doesn’t. “Fine. So, when I was younger, my Dad and I used to do this. Lie on the grass in the backyard, look at the stars.” Veronica pauses, mulling over her next words. She plunges forward, reckless becoming her new thing. “I didn’t know until much later that it was his way of distracting me.”

Veronica feels her throat tighten and wishes she had never started this story. The attention swinging her direction was never the idea.

“From?” Something in Logan’s voice, in just that one word, compels Veronica to continue. She can’t help but think he might be the one person she knows who might understand the reasoning.

Still, her voice is quiet, soft. “From the fact that my Mom wasn’t home and it was past my bedtime and...yeah.” Veronica stops, hoping that the alcohol Logan has been drinking won’t prevent him from connecting the dots to the reasons for her mother’s absences. It might even help.

Logan takes a deep breath. “My Mom used to take me to the movies. Never one of his, of course.” Logan’s voice is laced with bitterness. “She liked the old ones. Black and white, lots of musicals. You name it. I think she thought the singing and dancing would make me forget.”

Veronica bites her tongue because she knows what he was trying to forget. Scar tissue and broken bones. “Did it work?”

Logan keeps his eyes on the sky. “Sometimes.”

“Yeah.”

The cool breeze off the ocean sends goosebumps across Veronica’s legs and in the distance she hears what might be a foghorn. She realizes she and Logan are still aligned with each other, legs a fraction apart, shoulders bumping. Veronica feels every point of contact with a flare of heat. Where her hipbone hits a bit high, near his waist. Her elbow against the firm muscle of his upper arm. The proximity puts Veronica’s senses on alert. And keeping her eyes heavenward prevents any accidental contact above the neck. Until she has a better grasp on what is going on, Veronica thinks that might be best.

“And what makes him your favorite?” Logan lightly picks up the thread of the conversation where they left it, steering them back out of rocky waters. For the briefest of seconds, Veronica swears she feels Logan’s fingers brush against hers again.

The relief at being able to return to safer territory is palpable. “Two things, really. One, I could find him without any help. Two, I liked the story behind it.”

“Which is?”

“You really want to know?” Veronica is incredulous at Logan’s sudden calm interest in what she is saying. His attention is intently focused on the sky and seemingly, her voice.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know... let me see. Because it’s hard to believe we’ve become story-sharing buddies all of a sudden, maybe? Logan, learned behavior doesn’t go away overnight.”

“Look, if you don’t want to tell the story, just forg - and wait, what do you mean, learned behavior?” Logan’s tone starts to match hers. Tight and a little defensive. The edge that had faded sharpens once again.

Veronica exhales noisily, wondering if there is a single topic of conversation for the two of them which contains no landmines.

Either a discussion of the year of Mars vs. Echolls or the disasters of our childhoods or maybe we can talk about the loss of his mother. Sometimes, you just can’t win. The kissing was substantially less complicated than this talking business.

Veronica makes her choice. “I learned not to ask you for anything, reveal anything about how I feel or generally talk to you if it could be helped this year, Logan.” Veronica tries and fails to keep a bitter note out of her voice. It’s still raw and it still hurts and being here on the site of a happy time they shared makes her feel both those things even more. “It would not have ended well. You know it. I know it. Telling you a story from my childhood would only have been fuel for you. What’s so different now?”

Logan lifts his arms, runs his hands through his hair. His answer is muttered, but she can hear him say, “Yeah.” He rubs his eyes. “I don’t know what to say, Veronica.”

How about: I’m sorry I’ve used you for target practice since Lilly’s death? I’m sorry I let our friendship fall apart? I could certainly offer him more suggestions.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s so quiet and Veronica’s inner thoughts were so loud, she’s not sure she heard him correctly.

“Excuse me?”

He doesn’t answer, the heels of his palms still covering his eyes.

“Logan...what are we doing?”

Logan sits up a little, dropping his hands and resting on his elbows. “Arguing, maybe? It should seem familiar.”

Veronica sits up, too. “But...beyond that. Why are we...what are we doing?”

When Logan doesn’t answer immediately, instead sitting up and wrapping his arms around his knees and putting his chin there, Veronica thinks of the night he showed up at her apartment door. Even then, she knew the seas were shifting. His arms wrapped around himself, trying to keep out the pain or hold it in, she never could decide. Just like now. In that moment when she invited him in, she knew she was doing more than inviting him into her apartment. She was letting him back into her life, come hell or high water. Or smart ass remarks. And she got all of that and more.

His voice is thin, and she almost misses his next words. Logan looks at her over his shoulder. “Could we just pretend it all didn’t happen? Just forget that you hate me and that I blamed you and that we said all those things... could we do that for awhile longer?”

His plea is so uncharacteristic, so heartfelt, she can only think he really means it. The need present is like a wave over her. And the reality he wants to keep at bay is the same one that includes his mother’s death and for that reason and maybe more, Veronica gives in. She breaks, gives him permission to continue suspending reality. For now.

She nods, just once. Just barely. He looks back to the water.

Lying back on the sand, she starts talking. “So, Orion was this big bad ass hunter, right? He thought he could hunt and kill any animal and he bragged all about it. Turns out Artemis, who was the goddess of the hunt, didn’t much care for the mouth on him.”

Logan’s back relaxes slightly, the tension releasing in increments. He glances back at Veronica, who pretends she doesn’t notice. Arms crossed lightly on her stomach, she continues her tale.

“They were lovers, but his bragging pushed her to the point that she conspired with a scorpion to prove him wrong. So, this Orion, who thought he was the end all be all, was taken down by the sting of a teeny tiny scorpion.”

“Ouch. Well, dangerous things come in small packages.” He smirks at her slightly as his arms loosen from around his legs.

“That’s good things, Logan. But Artemis felt so guilty and grief-stricken about it, she had Jupiter place Orion into the stars.” Veronica points up towards the constellation again. She then swings her arm to the other side of the sky. “And Scorpio was placed so that every time he rose in the east, Orion could escape to the west. If you could see Scorpio, it would be over there.”

“So, they never share the sky?”

“They do, but only for short periods of time. Orion is always moving, trying to survive. Trying to escape.”

Logan leans back on his elbows, face angled to look into Veronica’s. His face is unreadable. “Some story.”

“I always thought so.” Veronica blinks a few times, remembering how many times she’s told that story in her mind. She tries to keep the truth from her face, wanting to be thought of as that tiny warrior.

The truth is some days she’s the scorpion and some days she’s just trying to survive.

Logan glances over at her small form, a little smirk playing on his mouth. “It would sure suck to be Orion. Unless by ‘taken down’ you meant something a lot more sex-”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh. Too bad.”

They pause again, Logan contemplating her words and Veronica in turn. “Your birthday’s in August, right? What’s that make you?”

Veronica hesitates. “Virgo.”

“Where’s that one?” Logan lies all the way back down and scans the stars once again.

Veronica stares at him for the space of five seconds, wondering how he went from making her crazy to flirting with her to surprising her by knowing her birthday in five minutes.

She squints her eyes, orients herself before pointing to the east. “There. See the bright star off by itself? That’s in Virgo.”

Logan follows her arm, leaning closer. His warm breath grazes her cheek. “Yeah. I see it.”

You know how you dream you’re falling and you wake up with a start, heart pounding and palms sweating? That’s how I feel right now. I just don’t know if I’m done falling yet.

Chapter Text

Lying there on the sand next to Logan begins to feel more and more intimate, especially after Veronica's impromptu astronomy meets mythology lesson ends. Veronica becomes overly aware of every place they are touching, a flare of warmth marking each spot. The quiet is broken only by the soft rush of the water as tiny waves tumble just offshore. It might be five minutes, it could be fifteen before either speak again.

In that time, Veronica remembers her last visit to this stretch of sand. She remembers the sensation of coolness flowing around her as she entered the water. The thrill that fired through her belly at doing something new, something out of the norm. Something Lilly would do. She felt close to Lilly as she dove underwater and the world disappeared, muffled for a moment. As she rose back out of the water, the feel of it racing down her bare back made her giddy. She laughed, and it was Lilly’s ringing laughter that filled the air.

Veronica’s reverie is broken by Logan's voice, coming from very close to her and startling her slightly. His words tumble out as if they had been bouncing around in his mouth looking to escape for awhile now.

“I have an idea.”

Veronica's stomach clenches, some combination of nervousness and excitement roiling there. She sits up a little, elbows nesting in the soft, fine sand. Turns her head and looks back at him, eyebrows lifted in acknowledgment.

He doesn't look at her yet, eyes still traveling the sky and stars.

“Are you sharing this idea or I am just supposed to stay real quiet ‘til it goes away?”

Logan snorts a little before continuing. His voice is anything but casual, however. “Let’s get out of here.”

A little shiver runs through Veronica's body. The cool evening breeze off the ocean and the sound of sudden need in Logan’s voice are a combination made to generate goosebumps.

"You're cold."

"You know what they say: cold shoulder, warm heart."

“That’s not actually what they say, Veronica. And I can feel you shivering."

Veronica realizes once again just how much of her body is pressed against Logan’s, even in her semi-reclined position. "What can I say, this outfit not really suited for nighttime beach lounging, it seems."

"So, let's get out of here." Now it is the lighter edge to his words that makes Veronica wonder as he repeats his suggestion. She has the distinct impression that Logan really does have an idea of some kind. She can’t quite decide how to react to that fact.

"Where to, Logan?" Veronica fights for a carefree tone, pretends she spends every night on a random path of kisses and half-hearted insults with her former friend/enemy and now something as yet undefined. The chart of their relationship reads a like a heart patient's who needs his medication adjusted. It’s all peaks and valleys, each one more precipitous or dramatic than the last.

"Well, you have a point. That outfit's not made for the beach, but it is made for something else.”

Veronica’s eyebrows shoot up. “Choose your next words very carefully, Echolls.”

Chuckling, Logan sits up, hands dangling loosely between his knees. He looks back at Veronica, bottom lip caught in his teeth. “I don’t know where your mind just went, but I was suggesting the dance.”

"You can’t be serious."

Logan just smirks at her.

Oh my god. He’s serious.

"What? It could be fun."

Veronica blinks twice, and stares at him. "It's an 80's dance. At school."

"Right. Why not?”

“It’s an 80’s dance. At school..” Veronica nods her head, speaking more slowly, trying to make Logan listen.

“Well, you were going to it tonight, weren’t you?”

“But I was being blackmailed. I would never have-“

“By who?”

“By what?”

“No, who. Who blackmailed you?”

Veronica cringes slightly. She glances away, embarrassed. “Meg.”

“Meg? Sweet, innocent Meg?”

“Do not let her flaxen curls deceive. That girl can be mercenary.”

“That’s a lesson I’ve already learned from another girl...” Logan glances at Veronica, eyes twinkling a bit as he pointedly looks at her blonde hair. “But Meg? Really?”

Veronica shrugs. “Nah. But she did me a favor, so I had to pay her back.” She gestures broadly at her outfit. “This, sadly, was part of the payback.”

Veronica realizes she does not really want to get into the favor Meg did, since a discussion of Logan and kissing was part of that chat. "Well, I guess it can't hurt - much - to just drive by and see what's going on. But if I hear anything by Tiffany or Lionel Richie when I walk in, I'm going to turn right on my heel and leave.”

“I'll be holding the door for you.”

“As long as we understand each other.”

Veronica stands up, hands going to brush the sand off her butt. Logan also gets to his feet and follows suit. They turn and nearly crash into each other, eyes locking for a moment. Veronica looks away first, and heads in the direction of the car. She cannot figure out how every single time Logan looks at her, he makes her body temperature change. The intense look he just gave her is pushing the mercury up, up, up.

And out of the frying pan we go.

As she is walking, Veronica feels something solid banging against her ribs from inside Logan’s jacket. Patting the fabric, she realizes that Logan's flask is still tucked away in the inside pocket.

He notices her action and lifts one eyebrow. "Thirsty, Veronica?"

She shakes her head, hand moving away. "No, I just noticed it." She ducks her head and keeps walking, coming to an abrupt halt when she walks into Logan’s hand as it slips inside the jacket. His fingers nimbly reach into the pocket as Veronica holds her breath, trying to ignore the way his hand across her stomach is lighting her up like the Fourth of July. He withdraws the flask and unscrews the lid with practiced ease. Veronica starts to breathe again, her first breath a louder exhale than she meant. She can see Logan look at her from the corner of her eye, but she studiously ignores him, as if the most interesting possible thing is happening in the sand at her feet.

She lifts her eyes as Logan starts to walk again. Only he has changed direction, heading to the water. Something in his demeanor makes Veronica hesitate to follow him. He stands, shoulders rigid, facing the water as he takes a sip and then replaces the lid. The flask cradled loosely in his hand, he looks down at it briefly. Abruptly, he winds up and throws the flask as far as he can into the water. It makes the quietest of splashes, disturbing the placid surface for only a moment.

Logan stays there, hands hanging by his sides. She can see his shoulders rise and fall with a heavy breath and then he turns his back on the water, returning to her side without a word. He stands there for a moment, looking down at her.

“It was hers.”

And now, as he is haunted by grief and some beginnings of acceptance, his gaze serves to chill her through. She would like Logan to take his hands off her thermostat because the rapid swings are making her feel decidedly off-balance. And that is a feeling she has not been comfortable with in a long time. Keeping things even and steady and moving forward. That's how she has tried to live since Lilly died. She doesn't always succeed and when forces of nature like Logan Echolls appear, she fails more than she would like.

She breaks the look with a short nod and they arrive at the car without another word exchanged. The quiet of the beach seems to have penetrated their skin, soaking them in salt and silence. Veronica speaks and her voice is too loud, even to her own ears. "Get in, Logan. I just need to get these boots back on." Logan pulls the door open and slides in. Veronica tries and fails to tug the boots on standing up. Finally, she picks them up, opens the driver's door and plops down into the seat. With her feet hanging out of the car, she works on getting the sand out from between her toes and unlacing the boots. Logan's jacket keeps falling forward and getting in her way, so she tugs it off and reaches behind her to hand it to him.

"Thanks. I'm okay now."

"Yeah." Logan takes the jacket, eyes glued to the expanse of ivory skin that is Veronica's back. The delicate blades of her shoulders shift under that skin as she gets back to her task. The black fabric of the bustier stands in stark contrast to her fair skin and Logan swallows hard before he even recognizes his mouth has gone dry. He's always known Veronica was cute. Hot, even. But the repeated evidence coupled with her nearly inexplicable willingness to stay with him is wreaking havoc on Logan.

In a good way.

Veronica looks at the crumpled tights in her hand. The mental image of what it would be like to struggle back into them with Logan sitting two feet away boggles her mind. She tosses them in the back seat and yanks the boots on her bare feet. Reworking the laces takes a bit longer, but soon she is ready. She turns in her seat suddenly and closes the door. From the corner of her eye, she can see that Logan is half-turned in his seat, watching her. The look on his face is one of those that turns up the thermostat, spinning it like a roulette wheel.

Where it stops, nobody knows.

Veronica smacks her lips together, fumbling the key from her bag and into the ignition. She puts the car in gear without looking at Logan again. As they pull away, she glances at the beach and the water beyond in her rearview mirror. The thought crosses her mind that she and Logan are negotiating a path, whether on purpose or by accident, through some seriously rough waters. Their past keeps swelling up to push them apart with a sudden surge and then just as quickly toss them back together. Veronica is just glad she has always been good at keeping her head above water.

She sneaks a peek at the human storm surge next to her and sees he is fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, eyes cast downward. Eyes back on the road, she moves closer to the next stop on their strange journey.

“You’re sure about this? It’s never too late to back out, Logan.” Veronica grimaces as she re-enters the school parking lot, noting that it is still two thirds full. Logan's answer is to fling the door open as soon as they park, nearly denting the ride of a fellow classmate. He unfolds from the car in record time and is leaning against the trunk when Veronica gets herself out to meet him. She rifles through her bag, digging out the earrings and necklace she took off earlier. "Might as well be authentic," she says with a shrug. Her extreme lack of enthusiasm does not dent Logan's interest one bit. He stands up straight, jutting his elbow out. Veronica stands there, confused. Logan rolls his eyes. "Hasn't anyone ever offered their arm to you, Veronica?"

"Anyone? Yes. You? Never."

"Well, I'd say my father raised me to be polite to girls, but that would be a bald-faced lie, so let's just say I've seen a lot of old movies."

Veronica nods, stepping carefully around that landmine and sliding her arm through Logan’s. With every step they take towards the school, Veronica feels it right in the center of her chest. Logan doesn't seem to notice the tension as it builds in her, tightens her back as they approach the doors. When they come within ten feet of the front door, Veronica stops walking, letting her arm slide out of his abruptly.

"I'm not sure this is such a good idea, Logan."

Since the barbs of her classmates rarely penetrate her toughened skin anymore, Veronica can only think that Duncan on the other side of the door, arms around another girl, is what bothered her the most. She didn't want that to be the case, but it clearly was. He was moving on and she thought she had, too. The way her heart was currently pounding gave a repeating and painful indication she could be wrong.

“What?” Logan looks at her and then the school and back again. Suddenly, he remembers how he found Veronica earlier tonight. Tears welling as she bolted the school. "I'm...an ass. You don't want to see..."

He hesitates, afraid the wrong word will actually bring those tears back. For some reason seeing Veronica cry is not only no longer something he strives for, but it's something he is desperate to avoid. One basketcase at a time. He is counting on her steady self, her fuck the world attitude to replace his right now. Logan simply can't afford to have her lose it. Not tonight.

Veronica turns away from the door, wrapping her arms tight around her body. It makes her look smaller, which Logan would not have believed possible. The raucous noise of a group of classmates crashing by causes him to tug Veronica abruptly through the doors and into the nearby side hallway. Out of sight of the crowd in the semi-dark hall, Logan faces Veronica. She leans back against the lockers, looking up at him. The sound of heavily synthesized music filters down the hall to them.

“Veronica...” Logan pauses, unsure exactly what he wants to tell her right now.

Veronica’s arm cross on her chest, defensive shell in place. She steps to the side of her main issue. “It's just that...Meg and -"

Logan finds his way clear now, mouth twisted up slightly in a smirk. "Listen, Veronica. You and Meg are over, you just have to accept it." His voice is light, injecting a playful tone into the tension, but she hears what he is telling her. "She doesn't deserve you."

Her breath catches a little, the underlying message shifting a little. She plays along, the seriousness of what he's implying making her heartbeat pick up the pace.

"Yeah, it looks like she's happy now." Her arms loosen, eyes cutting toward the sounds of the dance.

"So, doesn't it seem fair that you would be, too?"

“Damn, Logan. You're practically an honorary girl. Gonna tell me to wash that Meg right outta my hair?"

“I’m more likely to suggest you get wasted and hit on someone new to take your mind off it." His eyebrows quirk upward on the word 'new,' which is not lost on Veronica. "This is why I don’t dispense relationship advice."

She half-smiles, half-grimaces, brushing by his ‘suggestion.’ “I don’t know, Logan. I'm thinking it’s a hidden talent of yours."

It's not exactly an invitation, but when Veronica’s arms uncross and drop to her sides and her eyes stay on his longer than they have since they arrived, Logan decides it is the closest to one he might get. He braces his left hand on the locker by her head and leans a bit closer as he talks. "She's a spoiled, rich kid who doesn't know what he - she's missing."

“Veronica?" The questioning voice freezes them both, Logan's mouth within six inches of Veronica's. They both turn their heads in the direction of the voice to find a suddenly embarrassed Meg standing ten feet away.

"I...um...I thought you left?" She twists the strap of her purse around her hand as she takes in the position they are in. Logan's arm partly blocks her view of Veronica. "Hey, Logan."

She tries so hard for nonchalance it is almost painful. Veronica can see trying to pretend that seeing the two of them together in the hallway, nearly kissing, is something she sees all the time. But it’s the faint look of guilt on her face that bothers Veronica the most.

Veronica straightens up slightly to better see Meg. Logan doesn't drop his arm. "I - we came back. Are you leaving?" She tries to keep the flare of hope out of her voice.

"No...just - the ladies' room."

She glances to the left, sees the door to the ladies' room just past them. "Oh."

Veronica tries to keep the frost out of her tone. Tries to remember that she's the one who put Meg into Duncan's arms tonight. Tries to remember that he is not hers and hasn't been for a very long time. Makes a special point of remembering that Duncan didn't seem to have any interest in being hers anymore and wishing for the opposite might just be a bit pathetic. When she feels Logan's right hand close over hers, hidden from Meg’s view, she is abruptly yanked into the present. Her eyes fly to Logan's, which are surprisingly sympathetic. He knows the way a Kane can wrap you up in their world.

"So!" Meg goes to her old standby, perkiness. "You two are coming to the dance, then?" Her eyes betray her tone with their nervous flitting.

Logan interrupts Veronica right as she opens her mouth to answer. "Nah. I think Veronica's ready to get out of these uncomfortable clothes. Aren't you?"

She gapes up at him, her right hand tightening on his in what she hopes is a crushing grip. "I'm in no particular rush."

He looks her up and down. Twice. "Well, it's not like I'm complaining. I don’t mind a woman who makes me wait a little." With a wink, he continues. “Especially if the payoff is worthwhile.”

Billy Joel was wrong. It’s not only the good that die young. In Logan's case, I think an exception might be in order.

Veronica's hand squeezes his, her eyes expressing her displeasure. Logan just laughs lightly. "Is that Karma Chameleon I hear? Better hurry, Meg.”

"Um, right. Bye, you guys. See you Monday." Meg walks past them down the hall. Veronica waits until Meg enters the ladies' room with one last look over her shoulder, before yanking her hand out of Logan's and shoving him in the chest.

"What the hell was that all about?" She wavers between flustered and angry, choosing the latter for now.

“What can I say, Veronica? You’re just irresistible.”

“Logan.”

His tone stays light, but his eyes betray him. They are studying her face with what she can only describe as affection, some glint of possessiveness. “I just didn’t want her to leave Duncan alone for long. His attentions are so fickle.”

Veronica looks away, toward the dance, and back to Logan again. The moment hangs there between them. She realizes Meg is going to be coming back out in a moment and slides out from between Logan and the lockers. “I think we better go.”

And the trophy for surprising Veronica Mars once again goes to Logan Echolls. Is there no end to the depths of this shallow boy?

He follows her without a word as they return to the parking lot. They stand by her car, the tension growing awkward. Neither seems sure what to suggest next.

What exactly is the protocol when a guy deflects the pity of the girl dating your ex with sexual innuendo? A kiss? A slap? A hearty pat on the back?

“This is...” Veronica lets her voice trail off.

They look at each other, questions passing back and forth in a glance.

“Yeah.” Logan half-smiles, ducking his head. “Do me a favor?”

“Sure.” Veronica agrees readily, something she rarely does.

He looks up at her, smirk in place. “Take me to my car?”

Veronica tries to fight off a small wave of disappointment. For someone who doesn’t like to spend time around Logan, she is not happy the evening seems to be ending. She glances around the lot, but doesn’t see the Xterra.

“Where is it?”

“Not here. I was drunk, remember? But you’ll give me a lift?”

“Yes, I said I would. So, where to?” As the last words leave her mouth and Logan’s face lights up further, Veronica’s mind finally catches up.

No way. Don’t you dare say it. Don’t you dare say...

“L.A.”

Chapter Text

Logan walks around the car and stands by the passenger door as Veronica stands gaping by the driver’s side.

“Logan!”

Logan points at her. “You promised, Veronica.”

“Do not even try your schoolyard logic on me, Logan. I didn’t know it was still all the way back in L.A.!” Veronica gestures vaguely in a direction that might be north.

Logan stares at her with just a hint of a smile.

Veronica continues, exasperated. “I thought you were going to have the hotel send it?” Between Logan’s calm demeanor and being mad at herself for agreeing to a favor before she knew what it was, Veronica has to admit she is off her game. She hates that.

“I didn’t. And it’s late.”

“And you can’t call them tomorrow and have them do it?”

“But I want it tonight.”

His eyes haven’t left Veronica’s for the entire length of the conversation and between that and these loaded words, Veronica wants to shake him, slap him or kiss him. That she can’t decide which she wants to do more infuriates her.

“People can’t just always have what they want, Logan. Even rich, spoiled brats get to hear the word no every once in a while.” She glares at him, eyes sparking defiantly.

She expects him to explode, to fall back on the old Logan and make some wiseass remark that will make her feel justified in leaving his ass in the parking lot. Some part of her wants him to give her an escape route. Another, slightly larger part is hoping he surprises her.

He takes her words in, nodding, breaking eye contact. Logan studies the top of her car for the space of ten seconds. When he looks up and speaks, Veronica curses to herself.

“Yeah. Sorry, Veronica. Could you just drop me at my house?”

He chooses the third, unspoken option of making her feel horrible. Veronica knows full well Logan can’t be around his Dad right now. For so many reasons.

Veronica stares across the roof of the car at Logan for the space of ten, fifteen, twenty seconds before she just shakes her head, muttering to herself and disappears from sight. Logan bends down and peeks into the passenger window at Veronica, who is now sitting in the driver's seat, hands on the wheel, eyes dead ahead. Her head shakes back and forth just slightly as she finally turns on the car and sits. Logan hesitates, hand on the door handle.

"Well, get in, already. L.A.’s not getting any closer."

The grin that splits his face has a totally unplanned effect on Veronica when she catches it from the corner of her eye. It makes her smile right back at him.

Next time my life turns into a rollercoaster I’m stuck riding with my - whatever Logan is - I’d like to get a memo about it first. A girl likes to be prepared.

That thought bouncing around in her head like a ping pong ball, Veronica shifts into gear and leaves the school behind, once again putting distance between she and Logan and the rest of the world. It occurs to her that both of them will have to engage with the world as a whole soon enough, but her desire to retreat when things get bad is so strong, she can hardly deny it to Logan at a time like this.

She makes a turn that has Logan glancing over his shoulder in confusion. "Uh, Veronica?"

"What?"

"You missed the turn to the highway."

Veronica looks at him once, back to the road and then at him again, longer and more incredulous. "If you think I am driving back to L.A. in this get-up....well, let's put it this way. I'm not."

"Oh." Logan's easy cooperation makes Veronica cast him one more look before focusing on the task at hand. Namely, driving carefully to her apartment and slowing down the land speed of her thoughts.

I’m not sure what Logan thinks I am agreeing to here, but car retrieval is my only mission here. Maybe if I just keep saying that over and over I can ignore the triple backflips my stomach is doing whenever he stares at me. Like he is doing right now.

"Can I help you, Logan?"

Veronica's mildly snappish tone doesn't seem to faze Logan, as he lets himself continue to watch Veronica at the wheel. "That is an excellent question, Veronica." His voice is smooth and calm and altogether unnerving. Since she agreed to this little trip, he has been entirely too steady. Peaceful, even.

Veronica realizes she is more comfortable with drunken, smart ass Logan than this Logan. He is intense, like he always is, but he is intensely focused on her in a way that does not feel normal. She wonders if it ever will. Or if she wants it to.

Veronica tightens her grip on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. She swallows, feels her ears pop and she wonders if the pressure on her chest is a real one. It feels real. The sensation of being pulled under over and over has her nearly sputtering for breath around Logan.

"I am just full of those kind of questions." Her voice is neutral, carefully sidestepping his words and pushing the conversation into safer areas.

"Yeah, I noticed. So, do you want -"

"And we're here!" Veronica interrupts, a bit too quickly and cheerily, unbuckling her seatbelt almost before the car is off. Logan frowns slightly as she exits the car. When he doesn't get out promptly, she pokes her head back in. "Aren't you coming? I mean, I know this is a sweet, cherry ride, but my apartment is actually larger."

Logan gestures toward her building. "I didn't think your Dad would go for a late night visit from one of your - uh - from me." They both dodge eye contact for a minute, neither daring to touch the 'what are we to each other now, anyway?' question drifting between them on the still night air.

Veronica smiles quickly, not quite reaching her eyes. "Oh, he's out of town. It's okay.” She spins and heads for the apartment, and quickly hears Logan's steps behind her, his long strides making up the difference in no time.

As Logan comes into the living room behind her, Veronica realizes how very, very strange it is to have Logan Echolls in her apartment. This is the first time he's been there since he appeared out of nowhere and asked for her help. And certainly the first time since their weekend adventure began that either one of them has been in a part of the other's world. Neutral territory until now has kept a small amount of the weirdness at bay and faced with six feet of Logan in her space has Veronica nervous.

Very nervous, in fact. It’s not one of those feelings she usually tolerates in herself.

He is standing too close to her and the living room feels smaller with him in it and her head is filled with static when she looks at him and he looks back. Logan, for his part, also appears ill at ease. It is her home court, after all. As if to emphasize this fact, Backup comes barreling into the living room at Mach 5 to crash into Veronica’s legs. He almost knocks her over, but Logan catches her and Veronica straightens up as if she's been shot. Recovering, Veronica kneels down, receiving bruising nose butts and licks from her dog as Logan stands back a foot and watches.

"Careful. He can be kind of skittish with new people, Especially ones that look big enough to do me any harm." Veronica smiles over her shoulder. "Yeah, I know. Pretty much everyone 12 and up, right? I'll save you the trouble of saying it."

Logan puts his hands up in mock surrender. "Your words, not mine, Veronica." He kneels down, holds his hand out for sniffing. Backup crashes into his hand, snuffling and licking and Logan laughs, a genuine one. "See, he knows I’m not going to hurt you." Distracted by the affections of the pitbull, Logan misses the look Veronica gives him.

She half-smiles. "He definitely likes you." Her voice is gentle and this time he does notice her attention.

Logan, hands still ruffling Backup's ears, and patting his back, looks at her. "Yeah, he's great.”

The static in her head starts to thicken and she starts to notice the flecks of gold in Logan's brown eyes, which becomes Veronica's signal to stand up immediately. She pats Backup on the head and starts down the hall.

Without looking at Logan, she's able to sound calm and collected as she calls back to him. "Help yourself to anything in the fridge. I have to change and shower."

"Shower?" Logan's voice is almost too neutral.

"I have eight pounds of hairspray in my hair and about that much makeup on my face. In fact, we probably should have just stopped at the car wash and used the high pressure hose. As it is, I'll make do with a shower."

Veronica slips into her room, closes the door behind her and leans against it for the count of five. On five, she tells herself she is acting like an idiot and this is Logan and what did she really want from him, anyway?

Five minutes into her shower, she still has no answer to that question and the slow, building realization that she just left Logan completely unattended in her apartment is making her heart stutter at an alarming rate. She finishes up quickly and towels off, listening for what, she doesn’t know.

What does snooping sound like, anyway? I’m always doing it, not listening to it.

Veronica goes into her room and notices everything exactly where she left it, the door closed. She can hear the TV in the living room suddenly turn off, however.

“Veronica?” Logan’s voice is coming closer to her room and she panics a little.

“Don’t come in, I’m not dressed!” She actually slaps her hand to her forehead as Logan laughs. When he speaks again, she can tell he is right outside the door.

“Well, I wasn’t going to, Veronica, but thanks for the visual.”

Before Veronica can tell him to shut up, he continues.

“I was going to tell you that your dog is acting a bit desperate to go out.”

“Backup.”

“What? I told you I wasn’t coming in, why do I have to -“

Veronica laughs quickly and smirks to herself.

That joke just never gets old.

She cracks the door open a few inches and looks out at Logan. “No, his name is Backup. And...would you take him out?” Veronica smiles in what she hopes is a winning fashion.

Logan’s eyes wander from her smile to whatever else he can see of her and she narrows her eyes. “Logan.”

He wets his lips, sticks his hands in his pockets. “Take him out? Gosh, Veronica. I just met him. This all feels so sudden -"

Veronica rolls her eyes, closing the door. “Leash is by the door. Around the block is fine.”

She hears Logan talking to Backup and can’t help but grin. Backup barks his happy going-for-a-walk bark and after a bit of time she assumes is Logan getting the leash on, they are out the door. Veronica turns to the business of getting dressed and not thinking about what she’s gotten herself into.

Fifteen minutes later, Veronica is sitting on the couch, tugging on her shoes, when Logan comes in the door with a panting Backup.

“Damn, Veronica. Think you can help me relocate my shoulder now?”

Logan releases Backup from his leash and he comes over to lick Veronica hello. She pats him gently and he trots to the kitchen for water. “He’s a bit of a puller. Did I forget to mention that?”

Logan rubs his shoulder, grimacing. “Yeah, it must have just slipped your mind.”

Veronica stands up, rubbing her hands on her jeans and reaching for her bag.

"So!" Veronica flinches, her voice way too loud in the quiet room. “Shall we?”

“Let me just use the little boys’ room and then I’ll be ready.”

“Right, sure. You do that.” As soon as Logan heads down the hall, Veronica grimaces.

Get a grip. Not a date. Just because you don’t actually know what it is does not make this a date.

When Logan comes up behind her and starts talking, Veronica jumps, heart in her throat.

“So, Veronica, I have to know something.”

She turns, fixes him with a look, eyebrows raised.

Logan stands in front of her, looking down. “I’ve been thinking about it and I just can’t work it out. I can never work you out, so that’s not new, but also beside the point.” Logan sets his lips in a line, studying her hard for any last minute clues her face might reveal. He exhales briefly and continues. “Why exactly didn't you slam the door in my face the night I showed up here to ask for help?"

She lifts her eyebrows, indicating some surprise that with all the questions on their table, he would pick this one. "A better question: why did you come to my door in the first place?"

"Because...you're an investigator. Sort of." Logan glances down, half-smiling.

Veronica cocks her head at him at the possibly inadvertent insult.

"I mean, not officially. But you help people." Logan fidgets with his shirt cuff, takes a few steps back to lean against the kitchen island.

"And on occasion, I even help ‘09ers. For a price." Veronica tries for light, falls a little short.

"And I totally intended to pay you. I still do."

Veronica brushes by that statement, knowing that his money had nothing to do with her taking the case. Knowing that she won’t take it when he offers. They both pause, sensing that additional questions will probe their relationship in some more tender areas. Veronica sighs, tallying up all the hits Logan has taken recently. She decides to take this one. "I didn't help you for the money, Logan."

His mouth opens slightly, cutting a quick glance at her. He looks away, looks back, various thoughts warring in his still slightly alcohol-blurred mind. "I...didn't ask you just because you're an investigator, I guess."

Veronica pauses, comes to lean next to him. "You guess." She states it, not drawing him out, just waiting.

She doesn’t have to wait long.

“I just...I got in the car and fuck, I sat there for fifteen minutes...and I somehow knew you were my only chance, Veronica. I took it. Knowing you had a million and one reasons to slam the door in my face.” Logan laughed to himself. “It’s ironic, right? Duncan didn’t believe me for a second, but you - you -“ He looks up, words dying in his throat, eyes hard on hers. “You looked. You’ve been a better friend than my best friend, Veronica and I can’t understand it.”

“It’s no big deal, really.” Veronica jostles him gently in the shoulder with her own, trying to break the tension, trying not to tip her own hand. "Anyway, you brought it up, Logan. We don't have to talk about it."

“Right.” Logan clears his throat self-consciously.

Veronica reaches behind her, grabs her car keys. “Let’s get going so we can get back before dawn, okay?” She smiles, tries to get one from Logan.

“Okay.” Logan smiles briefly, grabs his blazer from the couch and follows Veronica out the door, giving Backup a pat goodbye.

They are ten minutes out of Neptune heading north when Logan starts talking, eyes focused out the window.

His voice takes on a distant quality, as if he is in a different moment, a different place. Logan never looks at her as he speaks. "Y’know, I hated it all. The whole funeral, wake bullshit. There was my father, the ‘grieving widower,’ talking to his agent. There were dozens of people I don't know, don't care about, all there to tell me my mother was a wonderful woman and a loving mother and they are so sorry for my loss and I just didn't believe any of it."

Logan pauses, his shaky composure cracking for a moment. "I decided she just escaped. Escaped my father and his...and leaving me was...necessary." He hesitates, fingers of his left hand tapping on his thigh. Logan laughs, a harsh sound. "I even thought she was going to contact me, tell me where to find her. Stupid, huh?"

Veronica sighs, not sure she wants to go down this path with Logan, but not seeing a way around it at this point. Not when he is opening up to her. Not when she knows the feeling he describes far too well.

She never takes her eyes from the road. “For a long time after my Mom took off, I believed I would come home from school one day and she would be there in the kitchen, waiting for me. Just because I was the only one who thought that didn’t make it any less real to me. So, y’know, I get the - I get it.”

Veronica swallows, the unfamiliar sensation of opening up to someone she doesn’t entirely trust making her feel a bit queasy. She doesn’t add that when Logan came to her door, she also saw some semblance of an old friendship shadowing his eyes. Something long buried that pushed her forward. He doesn’t need all her secrets. He doesn’t need to know that she missed him a little.

She looks at Logan from the corner of her eyes, sees him nodding to himself, eyes cast to the floorboards. Veronica turns her head a bit more, catches his eye, smile playing across her mouth. He matches it and the look in his eyes is that mix of gratitude and affection she recognizes now. Ever since that moment in the hallway at school she first saw it with his hand gently squeezing her arm. Logan turns his attention back to the highway, relaxes into the seat, fingers now tapping to the music.

Yeah, I know what it’s like.

That seems like enough of an answer for now. Besides, she’s got the cool night air whipping her hair, the road stretching before her and Logan in the passenger seat. Former archenemy, currently undefined.

It’s like old times, only weirder.

She cuts him a look, that little flutter that has taken up residence in her chest making a brief appearance.

Maybe better.

Chapter Text

Veronica’s fingers tip tap a rhythm on the steering wheel. Her window is rolled down just enough to catch a breeze off the water. She feels it fluttering her still slightly wet hair.

She steals a glance at her passenger, who is still sitting with his head leaned back, face tipped towards the ocean. Moonlight is casting shadows across his face, making it hard for her to see what expression he is wearing. And with the rollercoaster ride Logan has been on lately, anything is currently possible.

Twenty minutes since they last spoke. Veronica takes a deep breath, fiddles with the radio dial, settling for something she doesn’t recognize that at least is not a song crooning about forbidden love or loss or any of the other topics she needs to steer clear of right now. She notices the time and takes a little breath.

“Oh, crap.” Veronica sticks her hand behind the seat, fumbling for her bag. Moments later, she has her cellphone in hand, as well as an audience. Logan turns his head, studying her with a vague frown.

“What?”

“My Dad.”

“What about him?”

“I said I’d call check in with him tonight. Pretty sure that this little field trip is not what he had in mind for how I was going to spend my Saturday evening.” Veronica looks up in the rearview mirror, gets over into the right lane and pulls off onto the shoulder, gravel crunching under her tires.

She rolls the window up and turns to look at Logan, face stern. “Absolute, utter silence, Logan. Got it?”

Logan zips his lip and throws away the key, nodding. He slumps further down into his seat, knees up against the dashboard.

Veronica watches him a moment longer, waits until he crosses his arms on his chest and closes his eyes. Finally, she speed dials and waits for her Dad to pick up.

“Hey, Dad. How goes it?” Veronica nods, faint smile touching her mouth. “Yeah? Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. Nobody tracks down slippery criminals like my dear old Dad.” She laughs. “No, I don’t want any money. I don’t always have a hidden, ulterior motive, you know. Sometimes I don’t hide my motives at all.” She smiles, wide and easy.

Veronica feels rather than sees Logan’s eyes back on her. She ignores the sudden lurch in her chest at the sensation. “Right. Anyway, just checking in. I’m on my way to Mac’s to watch some movies. Yeah, independent, foreign, etcetera. I’m bringing my reading glasses for the subtitles.” Veronica pauses, listens, free hand curling over the steering wheel absently. “Her Mom said I could stay over. I might. Yeah, when you weren’t looking your daughter turned into a nearly average teenage girl.” Veronica grins, wholeheartedly. “You have to say stuff like that. I’m your blood kin. Yeah, okay. Careful, okay? When will you be back? Tomorrow night? Love you, too.”

Veronica hangs up, letting out a breath. She looks over at Logan, who is now watching her extremely closely. He is mostly in shadow, passing headlights throwing light through the car and lighting his face at random intervals. When he speaks, she can’t make out his expression.

“You might stay, huh?”

“What?” Veronica stalls, knowing exactly what Logan is referring to.

“You told your Dad...” Logan shifts in his seat, which only makes Veronica feel like her car is too small, like Logan is too near her, like it would take almost no movement for him to touch her, for her to touch him. And she’s having a really hard time focusing on just what her latest stance is on Logan and most importantly, on the two of them.

She clears her throat, rolling the window down, letting in fresh air and noise and breaking the quiet spell. “Just didn’t want him calling later. I won’t be back ‘til late at this rate.”

Neatly dodging Logan’s question and her implication, Veronica maneuvers back onto the highway. It’s another fifteen minutes before she notices Logan rubbing his stomach.

“You okay?”

“I think I’m sobering up.”

“Well, that is news. And...?”

“I’m starving. I pretty much kept my intake to just liquid form today.” Logan half-smiles at Veronica, then grimaces slightly.

"Ah." Veronica looks at her watch and then the road ahead. "We can stop?"

"It's pretty late... you sure?" Logan's hesitation makes Veronica more sure than she had been.

"Yeah. Quick, though."

The restaurant Veronica finds is just the kind of place you find off the highway open in the middle of the night. A truck stop. Unremarkable, fluorescent lights glaring too bright in the dark night, a vague feeling of grease on most surfaces. But they have milkshakes.

Logan orders a disgustingly large amount of food and Veronica lets him know it with a wrinkle of her nose after the waitress leaves. “You know they have treatments for tapeworms now, Logan.”

He fills his side of the booth with long arms thrown across the back of his seat and a slow, easy smirk. His legs are so long they are blatantly invading Veronica’s under table space, but something in the easy way their feet keep bumping into each other makes her feel rooted, like this night is real and not some hallucination.

Though God knows an extended hallucination would explain a lot.

But Veronica is stone cold sober and if the pinched expression that steals over Logan’s face periodically is any indication, he is fast approaching the same state and none too happy about it. She briefly flashes on the shine of silver in the air, the soft splash of his Mom’s flask hitting the water earlier that night.

Her fingers play on the worn formica surface of the table as her eyes quickly catalog the occupants of the dive. Mostly truckers based on the parking lot and the tired, hat-wearing men scattered around over cups of coffee and plates of burgers and fries.

“So, I guess you still have a thing for Duncan, huh?”

Veronica nearly pulls a muscle turning her head back to face Logan. Her mouth hanging open seems to be an indication to Logan that he is not getting an immediate response.

“Damn. Veronica Mars speechless and me without a video camera.” His mouth turns in a smirk, but it’s not unkind. His eyes give him away, searching her face with unexpected concern.

Veronica closes her mouth, swallows. “I don’t know what you’re - no, I don’t. I don’t have a ‘thing’ for Duncan, as you so eloquently put it.” She feels her back tense, hackles up.

Logan half-lifts his hands at her, a flag of surrender. “Contrary to popular belief, Veronica, it is not my only dream in life to piss you off, okay? Can we try to just talk?”

Eyebrows lifted, Veronica pauses in her reply as the waitress drops off their food. Veronica busies herself with stabbing a straw into her chocolate milkshake and taking a few bracingly cold sips before meeting Logan’s eyes again.

“Okay, fine. Let’s talk.”

Logan swallowed the bite of hamburger in his mouth and put the burger down. “Seeing Duncan with another girl tonight obviously upset you. I saw the evidence myself, remember?”

Veronica had been trying for the better part of three hours to forget that Logan saw her crying, but no luck so far. She nods.

“It’s not so easy to forget old feelings, Logan.”

“It’s not easy to compete with a ghost, either.” Logan bites off quickly.

“Tell me about it.” It’s out of her mouth before she can fully register all the implications of Logan’s words and the possible repercussions of hers.

They both freeze, candid words thrown out carelessly hanging between them.

Wow, are we ever good at talking. We could teach a class.

Veronica finally moves, pulls her milkshake closer and takes a sip. The slow slide of chocolate and ice cream, of the cold tingling against her lips, distracts her for the moment. But that moment passes soon enough and she’s left with a Logan who is watching her warily, almost cautiously.

Logan swallows, looks out the windows into the darkness. His words are directed there, but Veronica feels them in her gut.

“I loved Lilly. I loved her so much.” He breaks off, wetting his lips before continuing. “But I always knew it wasn’t quite mutual. The more I could tell, the more I tried to hold on tight, y’know?” Logan shook his head, wry laugh falling low from his lips. “Worst thing I could do. She wasn’t meant to be held onto.”

Veronica nods, and he must see it in the reflection of the glass because Logan turns back to her. “She’s gone, Veronica. I loved her, I miss her, but she’s gone.”

And there’s every chance in the world that it’s not just Lilly Logan is referring to now. She nods again, eyes softer than they had been.

“I don’t have a thing for Duncan, Logan.” Veronica repeats. “He’s not the boy I loved anymore.” She pauses, hesitates, twirls her straw between two fingers. Finally, she glances back up to meet inquiring brown eyes. “It just takes awhile to see things you’re not ready to admit to yourself.”

And there’s every chance Veronica is not just talking about Duncan, but if Logan realizes it, he doesn’t let on. He nods, picks up a few fries and starts to eat again.

They eat the rest of their food in relative quiet, the way eased with words spoken and unspoken.

***

Half an hour closer to L.A., Veronica leans over and turns the radio down. Logan is possibly asleep, head lolled against the passenger window. She waits, hoping he’ll wake. The questions rolling around in her brain need answers.

“So...Duncan?”

“I prefer Logan.” His reaction is lightning quick and it assures Veronica that he is not totally out of it.

She grins at his ability to slip effortlessly into banter. It reminds her of well, herself.

“No, I mean...you said, last night, during the game...that Duncan was the reason you didn’t ask me out when we were younger.” Veronica swallows hard, glancing over to gauge Logan’s reaction to her re-hashing this again.

“That is what I said.” His words are opaque, her inability to see his face in the dark car making it worse.

Veronica grits her teeth slightly. “But what about Lilly?”

“Lilly’s his sister, Veronica. That’s disgusting.” His voice is full of fake shock.

Veronica knows a dodge when she hears it. “Logan. You know what I mean. Why wasn’t it because of Lilly that you didn’t ask me?”

Why don’t I just ask him if my butt looks fat in these pants? Insecure, Mars.

Logan sighs, giving into the ever persistent Mars line of questioning. “It was before I went out with Lilly.” He pauses. “Veronica, does it matter?”

“No. It doesn’t.” Veronica’s voice is more clipped than she means it to be. Logan is holding up the burden of his grief over his mother’s death and she’s bugging him about his 12-year-old crush. She is pissed at herself for bringing it up way more than she is for him trying to drop it.

They lapse back into silence. Minutes pass.

“I thought you were hot.” He turns toward her, his voice a little closer, a lot friendlier. “If we are confessing our sins, I still do. Annoying as all hell, but definitely hot.”

What is my response to that? ‘Thanks. I think you’re hot, too.’ ?

Veronica takes a moment to be thankful that she is a girl who rarely blushes. And that when she does, like right now, it’s too dark for the cause of the pink heat in her skin to see it.

“I prefer persistent and scrappy, thank you very much.”

Logan laughs, a good one. “Fair enough. Still a pain in my ass, though.”

“If you can’t handle the heat, Logan...”

“I can handle the heat, Veronica.” There’s something of a challenge in Logan’s words, and there’s no doubting the undercurrent flowing between them now.

Veronica snorts, covering her reaction to his words. Logan flirting with her, even in his brash way, is still foreign. Still unsettling. And still really, really working.

Her answer is to turn the radio back up and wait for the heat in her cheeks to fade. If she were blushing, which she’s not, of course.

Maybe just a little.

The next time the radio volume drops, it’s Logan’s fingers on the dial.

“See, Duncan told me one day that he had a crush on you. And, of course, it was the day before I had planned on asking you out. He was my best friend. No way could I horn in. And then the next week, Lilly broke up with her boyfriend and tackled me in the pool house.”

Veronica glances over in time to see Logan’s comical shrug.

“The rest as they say.” Veronica supplies the ending to his story.

“Exactly.”

But is it really history? This is feeling a lot more like current affairs.

“I never knew that, Logan. You never said anything.”

“I just did.”

It’s not a challenge. It’s a statement and it’s a promise and the three words said so careful and low make Veronica sit up straight in her seat, adjust the rearview mirror and do just about anything to not look at Logan right then. She does everything she can to ignore the warmth swirling tight in her belly, but it’s just not possible. Everything she’s been doing to justify and rationalize the kissing and time together and the helping is slowly peeling away to reveal one single fact.

I like Logan.

She pauses, glances at him from the corner of her eye.

That is really inconvenient.

She doesn’t retort, lets his words sink all the way in, lets them rush through her like water filling a dry creek bed. Trickling over hard clay, soaking in, making it soft again. Filling in the cracks until they start to disappear.

The bright lights of L.A. appear on the horizon.

“We’re almost there, Logan.”

Almost there.

Chapter Text

Conversation is sparse for the next twenty minutes, a few words here and there, but nothing of substance. Veronica finds herself newly shell-shocked that her feelings for Logan may exist outside this weekend. That she may actually like him in a way that would have never occurred to her 48 hours ago.

For the first time in a long time, she’s looking at Logan and thinking of what’s to come, and not what has already passed.

As Veronica makes her way through the L.A. traffic, weaving her way to the hotel, she notices that Logan has fallen totally silent. Not that he has been a chatterbox until now, but this quiet feels weighted, feels heavy in the car. After his revelation that he had once upon a time really wanted Veronica, had only stepped aside in deference to Duncan, Logan seems unwilling to say more. Veronica can only assume that he’s feeling as mixed up about all of this as she is.

The sense of deja vu is surreal as she pulls into the parking lot of the Sunset Regent. She sees his big yellow beast of a car and slides into the empty space next to it, killing the engine. Veronica flicks the headlights off and doesn’t move. She feels nailed to the spot, unsure what is next.

Logan lets out a soft little laugh, and there is no real happiness in it.

“I’ve been thinking.” He gestures at the window, at the way he’s been staring out it for the last half hour.

I know something is very, very different here because I am actually going to let that one go.

“And...I’m an asshole.” Logan’s voice is tinged with what Veronica is almost positive is regret. Logan stomps over everything without looking back - or he did with her, to her until very recently - so regret is not something she expects to hear out of his mouth.

“And?” Veronica tries to hide her amazement at Logan speaking such an unvarnished truth. “Something I am not intimately familiar with already?” She softens her words with a wry smile, but it’s not like she’s going to give him a pass for everything just because he makes her stomach flutter in an annoyingly thirteen-year-old girl way.

Logan flinches, just barely. “I deserve that. You must hate my guts.” He stops, looks at her, eyes steady. “You do, don’t you?”

She knew they wouldn’t be able to hold this conversation away forever. The careful truce needed breaking. “It’s not that simple, Logan.” Veronica realizes the truth of this even as she says it. It’s far from simple.

“It never is.” He sounds so broken, so resigned.

“You have to give a girl some time to catch up, y’know? I’m quick, but this is supersonic.” Veronica takes a deep breath, lets it out. She’s never had so many heart-rending conversations in such a short time. Never gone from mortal enemy to friend to maybe more in this short a time either. “Can you understand that I can hate the things you did and maybe not hate you?”

“Maybe not hate? That sounds suspiciously like you saying you like me.” Logan half-smiles, mouth twisting. He cuts a look at her, and she meets it. Veronica thinks that if she never made eye contact with Logan again, she might get away with lying.

She misses being able to lie to him. Now she’s left with this kind of sweaty-palmed panic that he can see right through her, right into her with those eyes.

Logan is the one who looks away first. “God, could I be more pathetic?” He doesn’t expand on the thought, and Veronica hesitates. “And yeah, I get it. I mean, I don’t deserve it, but if you can separate my actions from me, well.” He looks down at his hands, lying open in his lap, and his voice is lower, more distant when he speaks again. “I missed her so much. And I was really pissed and...messed up. So were you.”

“Yeah, I was.” Veronica sees no sense in denying it.

“I made it worse.”

Veronica tenses, the truth of that statement far too painful. She dips her head forward, suggesting a nod. “We made our choices, Logan.”

His voice so quiet, she almost has to strain to hear it, but Logan replies, “I made bad ones, Veronica.” He shifts in his seat, and she can see his hands flex and move. This kind of truth-telling is uncomfortable for both of them.

Veronica can’t believe she’s thinking this, but she wants some of that old Logan back. The one who fought her tooth and nail, seized every word and action and threw it back at her. It kept her on her toes, and granted, this version of Logan does too, but he also scares her. She misses his fire.

She takes another breath, chooses a course of action and opens her door, which seems to startle Logan from his stupor.

“What are you doing?” Logan sits up straight, looks sharply over at her. His eyes are unreadable in the dark.

“Getting out of the car?” Veronica gestures towards the open door.

“Okay, but why?” Logan’s hand is on his own door handle, mirroring her.

“I left my sweater in the room. I want to get it. You coming with me?”

He looks confused, but nods. “Never checked out, so I guess it’ll be there.”

“Great, let’s go.” She pops out of the car before she can change her mind. Veronica had pledged when this weekend started, long before all the kissing and crying and driving, that she wasn’t leaving Logan alone.

Veronica is a girl who keeps her promises.

They make it back up to the room after a rather stilted elevator ride, a quiet walk down the hall. It feels like falling backwards in time, the very recent memories rushing over them like high tide.

She pushes the door open and the room smells like flowers, overwhelming. Veronica enters and looks around. The room is perfect, every item in its place. Swept clean, almost like they’d never been here, like all of it had never happened.

But there, on the bed. Her sweater, folded neatly. Logan’s sweater, apparently retrieved from the trash and laundered, folded next to it. Her eyes linger on the bed, crisply made. Logan has moved from behind her, stands near the bar, looking down at it. The glass he broke, the one he cut his hand on, has been replaced with an identical one.

It’s all very unsettling, this sense that they had experienced something momentous here, the rebirth of a friendship, the mourning of a mother, violence and sadness, the kindling of new desires, and there was no real evidence of it.

It upsets Veronica in a way she is not sure how to process. Like the world is ignoring the fact that her world, that his world, have been turned upside down. She does know she can’t stay here a moment longer, and neither can Logan. She’s breaking this cycle once and for all.

Logan is walking past her, standing near the bed. He reaches down to touch his sweater, sits down next to it. His movement wrinkles the bedcovers, and she smiles. That’s a little better. Then she looks down at him, and the look on his face, inquiring, makes her go warm from head to toe.

She blurts out a response to that look, to the question he’s asking with it. “We are not having sex.”

His eyebrows launch themselves nearly into his hairline, but he smiles a little, and Veronica feels that spark from him. “Ever?”

The laugh is involuntary, the relief palpable at this flare of the old Logan. “Logan...”

Logan grins. “So, another time?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t rule it out.”

“You’re trying to get me on a technicality?” Veronica shakes her head.

“Learned from the best.” He winks at her, and it has what is likely his desired effect.

Veronica almost loses herself in the banter, so flush with how much she apparently needs this with Logan, that she forgets her goal here.

“Let’s go, Logan. You’re coming home with me.”

“Wow, Veronica. Call me crazy, but I’m getting some serious mixed messages here.” He reclines a little, resting on his hands.

Head shaking a fraction, she drives forward. “I’m not leaving you here.” Her voice has a thread of demand in it, and she knows it. And knows as soon as she lets the words fall that it’s the wrong way to get Logan to do ...well, anything.

“Free country. I can stay here if I want.” His chin lifts, a familiar defiance there.

She and Logan are cut from the same cloth when it comes to their reaction to authority, to being told what to do, and Veronica kicks herself for going that route. She’d fight back in the same situation, too.

“Logan.” She lets his name sit there, serious. Long enough for his smile to fade to nothing, for his eyes to latch onto hers. “I’m not leaving you.”

She shrugs a little, tries to shrug the weight of that promise off, but it’s holding fast. He seems to know.

Logan doesn’t move, and to see him still is the best indication that he is listening. That he hears. His hand reaches for his sweater, then hers.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Logan stands up, and he is close to her. She doesn’t back up for a moment, eyes shifting up to his face. There is this buzzing static between them now, the dial rotating louder when they get too close. She thinks maybe it was always there, but it’s not inspiring her to push back from him now. Not making her want to run from it. Now it makes her want to reach across the gap.

But not here. Not in this room. Not now.

She turns for the door and he follows. Veronica leaves the room and gets a few steps into the hall before she realizes Logan isn’t behind her.

I knew that was too easy.

Veronica spins on her heel and freezes. Logan is at the door to the room, hand on the knob. His eyes are scanning the interior of the room, and she realizes this might be one of the moments in life where you just wait.

It’s easy to remember coming down this hall last night, Logan’s grief nearly buckling him. It’s still there, a weight around his neck, but she thinks maybe he won’t go under. Maybe.

Veronica watches, and she waits.

Mouth set in a grim line, Logan firmly closes the door, and approaches Veronica without a word. Their eyes meet and she jerks her head toward the elevator, and ultimately, to home. He nods, and that’s that.

Veronica breathes easier when they finally exit the hotel, when she stands by her car door as Logan hops into his Xterra, window rolled down.

“I’m following.” She points two fingers at her own eyes and then his. “Gotta keep my eyes on you.”

“Stalker.” He grins, teeth flashing white. Logan cranks the engine, and then looks back over at her. “If I’m leading, helps if I know where I’m going.”

Ain’t that the truth?

“My house.”

Veronica gets in her car and closes the door, turning her car on. She didn’t want to see the look on his face when she said that. When she made it crystal clear she was taking Logan home with her. Not just to Neptune, but to her home.

She watches as he pulls out onto the road, steady and more careful than she would have thought. He is sober and tired and she is worn around her edges. A bit of calm, of peace, of following the long road back, will do them both good.

~ ~ ~

Logan follows her inside, and it’s not any less weird than it was a few hours ago. Veronica’s world hasn’t included Logan in quite some time, and this little haven is just hers and her Dad’s. It’s a place she’s always felt safe from the world, and bringing Logan here in these circumstances feels like she’s granting him asylum.

It’s late, well past midnight and her voice is low when she speaks, the hour making her quiet. She pauses by the couch and gestures at it, feels Logan just behind her. “I’ll get you a pillow, a blanket.”

Veronica walks down the hall, heart hammering inside her ribcage. The tension in the small apartment is thick, and she has to defuse it quickly. He will sleep on the couch, she will sleep on her bed. Things are off the rails already without making it worse by sharing another sleep.

Keep telling yourself that it makes a difference, Veronica. That putting twenty feet of space between us will put things back where they belong.

Head shaking, she brings him the pillow and blanket, finds Logan sitting on the couch, head down, fingers laced and hanging between his knees. He doesn’t look up when she enters, but glances over and nods as she puts the two items on the couch cushion next to him.

Veronica pauses, the only sound the soft whoosh of a car passing by outside, the hum of the A/C. She holds still in front of Logan for a moment longer and finally, he lifts his eyes. They are shadowed and dark and it’s still a solid, palpable thing, his grief. He’s clearly as tired as she is, and it shows. Her hand moves without thought, fingers brushing his cheek, slowly. It’s probably the most intimate thing she’s ever done to Logan, pushing aside and surpassing every kiss they’ve shared and the night wrapped around each other, in one moment, in one gesture.

She’s shaking a little, lets her hand drop, startling when his hand comes up to catch it. His fingers form a loose circle around her wrist, and Veronica thinks he can probably feel her blood thrumming like a bird below the thin skin there. It’s unnerving, feeling his large hand on her small wrist, overwhelming.

His eyes are on his own hand now, shifted there when he reached for her. Logan’s voice is rough from lack of use and exhaustion. “Good night, Veronica.”

He lets go. He lets her go.

Oh, no you don’t, Logan Echolls.

Despite her firm words to herself about maybe putting this thing between them onto saner ground, Veronica had made a promise not to leave Logan tonight, and she’s sure as hell not letting him leave her. Not letting him retreat into that head of his, with all its dark corners.

“Okay, you know what? This couch is a nightmare, actually. I slept on it once and I’m pretty sure I pinched a nerve. Come on.” She ducks down, grabs his hand, meets his look with a smile, warm and tight. He sees it for the rescue mission it is, she’s sure, but seems willing to be the damsel, so to speak.

Probably best I never mention that little detail aloud.

They choose Switzerland, otherwise known as her Dad’s bed.

She pushes Logan ahead of her towards the bigger bed. It will afford space and she needs that right now. “Now, listen. Dad is heavily armed and really overprotective, and he will know if anything happens here.” Hands on her hips, eyebrows lifted, Veronica stares Logan down, and it works. He smirks.

It flushes her with a good, warm feeling, that smirk. And if that’s not a sign the world has shifted on its axis, she’s not sure what is.

They lay down on top of the covers, wrists brushing each other, but a significant foot between the rest of them.

Veronica falls asleep to the sound of Logan murmuring something to her. She can’t be sure because he waits ‘til she’s almost out, but it sounds suspiciously like ‘thank you’.

She pulls herself awake enough to turn her head and look at Logan, to see if she imagined it. His face is slack with sleep, forehead unlined, and she decides, imagined gratitude or not, it’s enough.