A/N - For the VM Holiday fic exchange - I was given an opened-ended prompt, so I just kind of went wild with it. It was supposed to be 1-2k words, but instead you got over 8k. Oops. This is a gift for Gumshoeacademic.
Big thanks to selbyzipper for giving this a read through for me, and especially the amazing jaqofspades for beta'ing the hell out of this like a boss (a big sacrifice, since she ships WeeVer!).
FYI - the random song lyrics and title of the fic are from an ancient Genesis song called 'Follow You Follow Me', possibly one of the most romantic songs ever. Go listen!
All the days and nights that we know
stay with me …
It's been an hour since Veronica first started getting dressed and she's barely put more than her panties and bra on.
"You seriously don't get it?" She's on her knees in the center of their bed, a blindfold in one hand and a Braves jersey - with David Justice's name on it - in the other.
Logan is leaning against the bathroom door jamb, still in his robe, looking far more dashing in flannel than anybody has a right to be. "Just because I'm not laughing, doesn't mean I don't get it, Veronica."
Amusement pulls at his lips despite his claims to the contrary, but when his gaze travels up and down her body she knows he isn't really focused on the jersey. He doesn't look even remotely inclined to get dressed any time soon, but he's Logan. He'll play along.
"Where did you even find that jersey? The absolute back of your dad's closet?"
"Blind Justice, Logan! It's hilarious!" she hollars, unnecessarily loud, as if the increased volume will magically make the joke funnier.
"Is it?" He shrugs and gestures to the shirt half-heartedly. "I mean, I'm sure that sight gag will absolutely kill at Cliff's 25th law school reunion, but we're almost into 2016, now."
"Fine. I'll admit it's a bit dated." She tosses the jersey to the floor, dramatically flinging herself onto the mattress in one motion. "But, now what am I going to wear?"
"You still have your suits from law school, right?" His hand curls around her ankle, his thumb managing to find the exact spot that always makes her shiver, even as he flops on the bed beside her. "Slutty lawyer?"
She flips onto her back to look at him, eyebrow cocked. "Why is something run-of-the-mill suddenly a costume when you slap the word 'slutty' in front of it?"
"I don't make the rules." Logan's thumb brushes over the sensitive hollow once more, making her ticklish, but she resists pulling away. With so few days left together, every touch feels like a gift to be cherished. "If it makes you feel any better, I was planning on going as a slutty seaman on shore leave?"
"Redundant." Her foot nudges his thigh, grimacing. "And also...seaman?"
"Or we could stay home, and I could still wear the outfit. Or not wear the outfit? Either way, I could leave my hat on." He waggles his eyebrows at her. "We don't have too much time before I ship out. I'd rather spend it just with you, anyway."
"But what about our friends?" she asks.
Logan's disbelieving stare almost pulls them both into laughter. Not for the first time, Veronica wonders if Logan has x-ray vision, because he can see right through all of her ridiculousness.
"It might not be possible for me to give less of a shit about seeing any of these people, especially with you lying on the bed next to me in your underwear." His fingers trail up her calf and back down again, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
Veronica's not sure why she's pushing the issue so hard. It's not like she cares about seeing any of these people either. But something inside of her won't let it go. "We're not even 30 yet. Don't you want some excitement?"
His hand brushes softly over her knee this time before making its way back down to her ankle. "I've been arrested three times for murder, Veronica. I'm all set on that front."
"I meant fun exciting, not use your one phone call on Cliff McCormack exciting." Veronica groans as Logan presses a thumb into the bottom of her foot, stroking along her arch. "Now, you're just playing dirty."
He lets out a tired breath. "You really have your heart set on going to this party?"
She really doesn't. Being here with him, alone and lost in each other, is always at the top of her wish list. But she realizes now why going out is so important to her. Holing up in the house together, allowing herself a taste of domestic bliss, will only make their impending separation that much harder to bear.
"What if I said yes?"
He regards her for a moment, mouth flattened in thought, the intense focus making Veronica feel more naked than when she actually is. He's known her long enough to figure out what this is really about, even if neither of them are willing to say it out loud. "I could always be the slutty lawyer and you could be the slutty seaman? Defy people's expectations?"
Logan treats the act of making her happy like a paying job. She often wonders what she ever did to earn that kind of devotion.
Crawling across the bed until they're level, he lays down next to her, their foreheads nearly touching. There are a lot of things she wants out of life, but there's only one thing she really thinks she needs.
Veronica smiles and kisses the end of his nose, then pauses to feather her lips against his. "On second thought, this is kind of nice, too..."
Logan smiles, his cheeks brush against hers. "So, no costume?"
She presses forward until their mouths are flush together and then whispers against his lips, "You can leave your hat on."
… oh my love
right here by my side …
Veronica can hear the bass line from Led Zeppelin's 'Immigrant Song' vibrating through the thin windows of Mars Investigations before her hand even reaches the door knob.
The howling chorus announces her entrance, almost like a warning siren. It's fitting, given the mood she's in.
Her presence barely earns a glance from Mac, whose fingers dance across the computer keyboard in time with the impossibly fast drum beat. "Hey."
Veronica looks around, nose wrinkling. "My dad here?"
"No, just felt like a little power rock." Mac briefly gives Veronica the once-over, winces, then goes back to her screen, bottom lip caught between her teeth as she leans in to get a closer look at something. "Why so dressed up? Somebody die?"
"Maybe I just want to feel pretty?" Veronica spins around to show off her bright green dress, nicer than most of what she owns, but still a study of function over form.
Not dressing for others was one of the biggest perks of giving up her corporate life. The idea of having to spend every day wearing a suit now makes her shudder.
Mac shoots her a sidelong glance, before leaning over to take a sip of her ice coffee from an overly long straw. "Sure. Totally sounds like something you would say."
"Ugh, fine. I have a Logan thing." Veronica closes the door behind herself, dumping her handbag unceremoniously on her desk as she crosses to her partner's desk.
"By 'Logan thing' you mean...?"
"Navy picnic." She manages to get the words out without laughing for once, which is a marked improvement.
Mac unfortunately can't stop hers as she chokes on her next sip of coffee. "Finally, huh? Okay, let's revisit that later. First, I should tell you that you just missed Dick."
"Always. Amiright, ladies?" Veronica makes the shocker gesture with her hand, raising it slightly in the air. "Unless you're talking about Casablancas? Because, I mean, does anybody ever really miss that Dick?"
Mac cracks a smile and shoves a pile of papers to the end of her desk to prevent Veronica from sitting on the corner, something she does daily to counteract the bad habit Veronica acquired during her years of being her dad's secretary. "He wanted to hire you."
Ignoring the hint, Veronica lifts the papers from Mac's desk and deposits them on her own, then pushes herself up to sit on the edge. "I'm cautiously pessimistic. Go on."
"Seems Big Dick's fallen off the radar again. Regular Dick hasn't been able to contact him for over a month." Mac exhales a huff of irritation. "Even an asshole like Dick Casablancas doesn't deserve to have to deal with this shit for - what is this - the fourth time?"
"Fifth, but who's counting?" Veronica takes a stress ball from the top of Mac's ample collection and gives it a few, experimental squeezes. "We'd be doing him a favor by not looking, you know?"
"Yeah." Mac nods, contemplative expression on her face. "But, I kind of get it. Everybody deserves to have closure when it comes to their absentee parents. Even the crappy people."
For the millionth time, Veronica thanks the universe for gifting her with a decent father. If she'd been totally left alone - no moral compass to guide her during her formative years - she might very well have ended up like Dick. Even worse, possibly, considering her penchant for vengeance.
"Fair enough." She replaces the stress ball and slides off the edge of the desk. "Did he give you a retainer?"
Mac returns to her typing. "Actually, he inquired about our friends and family rate."
Veronica slaps her own thigh. "Shut up! He did not!"
"No. He didn't." Mac starts to chuckle. "I just thought if I said it, the expression you'd make would be really funny. And I was right."
"Haha. Just for that, I'm assigning this case to you."
"I suspected you might say that, so I took the liberty." Mac turns her screen around and points to a blinking dot. "It took me, like, 15 minutes. For a man perpetually on the run, Big Dick leaves a digital trail the size of Texas."
The chimes at the entrance of the office tinkle as the door hits the back wall hard.
"Did somebody die or are you going undercover at an RNC fundraiser?" Cliff McCormack strides in, usual mask of ennui firmly in place. He nods a greeting at both of them before closing the door behind himself.
Veronica pretends to scowl. "I own dresses, you know."
"I do now." He wordlessly thrusts a set of legal briefs into her hands.
Veronica thumbs through the first few cases, and - oh look - Loretta Cancun again. "If you must know, Clifford, I'm going to a Navy picnic."
He smiles at her, knowingly. "You could have just said you were going 'undercover'."
Rubbing one hand over her thigh holster, she lifts an eyebrow. "I still own a gun, sir."
"Ooh, touchy." He and Mac share a beleaguered look. After three months, her gun joke has clearly worn thin. "If you are serious, and that sundress isn't just a character choice, the dark underbelly of Neptune weeps for you, my dear."
"Pretty sure they wouldn't be the first." Veronica flips through the rest of the folders and sets them to the side of her desk. "And yeah. It's the real deal.'
"In that case, send Logan my condolences." Cliff takes one last, disappointed look at Veronica's outfit, then lets out a long sigh before leaving.
Veronica checks the time on her phone. "Quick, Mac, tell me how can I time my arrival to exactly coincide with dessert, thus minimizing the amount of time I'll have to expose myself to these Navy wives without a piece of cake in my mouth?"
Mac tilts her head, unimpressed. "Or, you could just woman-up and attend the event like a normal girlfriend would? Navy wives are not mole people."
"Are we positive about this?" Veronica a picks up a file, hoping for a case that can legitimately keep her busy for a few hours. "Hey...this one looks urgent."
"He'd go for you, you know." Mac mumbles, before opening up a new screen.
… if ever I need you
I will follow you …
Logan removes two mugs from the kitchen cabinet, lines them up next to the Nespresso machine, and opens a sleeve of pods, dumping four out onto the counter. His eyes are at half mast, courtesy of a long evening talking his best friend down from an emotional ledge.
Veronica isn't sure how he manages without the crutch of booze to blur the experience, when she's usually reaching for a beer after ten minutes with Dick - and that's on a day when he's not a total wreck.
The Nespresso machine rumbles to life, coughing out a loud pop, followed by a grating grinding noise as hot water forces itself through the coffee pod and into the first mug.
Logan angles his head, silently asking for her order.
"Triple." She leans her chin onto one fist, listlessly picking at the edge of her napkin.
"Long night?" he asks, accusation present in his tone, even if he's not saying anything directly. He tips an extra pod out onto the counter for her and replaces the sleeve in the cabinet.
Veronica chafes under the weight of the guilt she's carrying. "I'm sorry I missed the picnic. I know it was important to you, but I just-"
He shakes his head. "Save your creativity for your clients, darling."
She grabs the nearest box of cereal she can reach without getting up and inelegantly shoves her hand into the bag. "I have to pay my rent, Logan."
For a while, the only indication that he's heard her is the slight lengthening of his spine. "I don't charge you rent, Veronica."
"I meant my office space." She finishes chewing a handful of bran flakes and sets the box down. "But now that you've brought it up, I'd like to start paying my fair share here, too."
Logan's shoulders hunch forward as he doctors her coffee with milk and sugar, exactly the way she likes it. "Save your money. We both know I can afford this place on my own."
The back of her neck feels too warm all of a sudden. "You're barely here. You shouldn't have to pay for rent year-round when you don't even live here most of the time."
"Ah." He turns around slowly to face her, still stirring his coffee. "I was wondering when you were going to start up."
She scrunches her nose in a poor facsimile of confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm shipping out soon." His expression is joyless, a portrait of resigned sadness. "You always start shit when you know I'm about to leave."
He's absolutely right, of course. The fact that he knows her so well only makes her feel worse about the pretense, but it's too late for her to switch course, now. "I - that's not true!"
Logan sets both mugs down on the table, then kneels at her chair, placing both hands on her knees for balance. "I'm coming back, you know. I'll always come back to you."
She blinks away the tears that start to prick behind her eyes. "I know."
His fingers draw lazy circles on her thighs as he continues to speak. "I don't like it either, but I don't have a choice. It's what I signed up for."
"Signing up for something is by definition a choice, Logan."
He presses his forehead onto her lap and sighs. "You're angry with me."
Her fingers land in his hair, raking through the freshly shorn strands on the back of his head. She misses the way his longer hair feels beneath her fingers, but Navy regulations forbid him to keep it past a certain length. "I am sorry. I know I'm being unreasonable. And - and I know how much you were counting on me being at the picnic. I'll be at the next event, I promise."
She smooths one hand down the column of his spine while reaching for her mug with the other.
He presses a kiss to one of her knees and picks his head up to look at her. "Careful with that, Veronica. You don't want to get burned."
...will you follow me?
just one single tear...
Veronica stops short on the welcome mat of her office, closing her eyes at the sight. "Why is he here? Logan's at that off-site training thing today."
"He won't leave. Dick's apparently turned into a lonely house pet." Mac's mouth twists into a bemused grin. "If I didn't let him stay here he'd probably shit on your living room rug in protest."
Veronica groans as she tosses her bag onto the client couch. "Is it weird that I would have preferred buying a new rug?"
"I'm sitting right here, dude." Dick looks back and forth between the two women, pouting. "Not cool. Mars."
She doesn't feel like dealing with this right now but after yesterday's disappointment suspects that she owes it to Logan, so she plops down on the couch next to Dick and kicks her feet up onto the coffee table. "So, you finally talked to your dad?"
He nods, more solemn that she's seen him in years. "I guess...in the very loosest definition of the word."
"Let me guess, he didn't even realize how long it had been since he spoke to you last?"
His head tilts to look at her, a wry smile on his face. "Never thought you and I would ever have anything in common, did you, Ronnie?"
The mere allusion to Lianne's abandonment and the memories it conjures sends a wave of nausea washing over Veronica.
"We don't -," she leans toward him, jaw set, "Look, you're better off with him gone. I know it's hard for you to see that right now, Dick, but take it from somebody who knows. Parents don't just suddenly stop disappointing you after crapping on your entire childhood. That's not how life works."
"He's all I've got," Dick says, quietly, arms wrapped around his middle, presenting a rare portrait of vulnerability.
She can't say she's exactly forgiven him for what he did to her in high school, but through their joint connection with Logan they've come to a strange but comfortable detente. He isn't a friend, but he also isn't the monster he once was in their youth. She's just about willing to give him that.
And looking at Dick now - broken but finally trying to forge meaningful connections in his life - she finds she doesn't have the energy to be mad at him anymore. They were both let down by their parents, but maybe they can still rise up despite that?
"You know that's not true." Veronica turns to face him more fully. "You're not alone."
He has Logan. They both do. And they both rely entirely far too much on their relationship with him to be functioning adults in his absence. Unfortunately, Dick is right about one thing, they have way more in common than Veronica is comfortable admitting.
"I'm sorry, you know." He purses his lips, like he's taking the time to organize his words. "About your mom. The things I said in high school...real douche move on my part."
Her eyes narrow at him, looking for signs of insincerity. She doesn't find any. "Yeah, well, ordinarily I enjoy irony more, but I wouldn't wish what I've gone through on anyone. Even you."
Dick makes a contemplative noise and head drops into his hands. "What am I gonna do when he's gone?"
Veronica still isn't comfortable touching Dick - her memory is too inconveniently long to allow a thing like that - but she does slide a little closer to him. "Your dad?"
He shakes his head. "Not dad."
"Oh." Seems Veronica isn't the only one acting out due to Logan's impending deployment. The same thing that has her pulling away from her boyfriend has sent Dick searching for a father who will never come through for him. "You're going to be okay, Dick. You've got other friends, don't you?"
Dick looks at her like she's crazy. "I've got friends, dude, plenty of them."
She rolls her eyes. "Right. Of course."
"But, they're not him." He shifts in his seat, arms still around his middle. "You play X-box?"
She shakes her head. "Not much of a gamer."
"I'm a gamer," Mac says, clearing her throat. "I'm not inviting you into my house - like, ever - but if you ever want to drop by the office, we could hook the box up to the monitors for a little bit."
Veronica's brows lift at the offer. Mac's always been the more empathetic of the two of them, but Veronica honestly never saw this kind of gesture coming.
"It's Christmas," Mac says, answering the question with a shrug before Veronica can ask. "Plus, it's been a while since I've trounced somebody new."
"All right, MacKenzie. I look forward to getting my ass handed to me, then." Dick's smile is a mile wide, and if he were anybody else, Veronica would swear he was blushing.
Mac turns away, busying herself with something on the computer. "Friday's are slow."
"And you?" He looks at Veronica, all doe-eyes and bad intentions. "Drinking buddy? It's not like either of us can get tanked with Logan anymore."
Though she's willing to move on from their past for Logan's sake, even she has limits. "As appealing as the offer is not, I'm going to have to pass."
"Suit yourself." Dick lets he rejection roll off his back, holding his fist out for her to bump. She stares blankly at it for a moment, before finally giving in and touching her knuckles to his. "We'll be okay while he's gone. Right, Ronnie?"
Veronica smiles brightly, trying to will herself into optimism. "Absolutely."
Deep down, she's not so sure.
...in each passing year
all my fears are drifting by me...
They've been at it for an hour now, with no signs of their argument slowing down. Veronica is tired, wants to bolt, but makes herself stay.
She's been trying her best to fight against her own bad instincts. Logan isn't something she can run away from anymore, not when she knows for certain she'll always want to go back.
The fight was kicked off by something innocuous, as these things usually are, and managed to gather into something dark and threatening, like an overripe cloud on the precipice of a storm.
"I'm boring now. I get it." Logan holds his hands in the air, in a sarcastic gesture.
He crosses to the living room and lifts his crisp white jacket from one of the modernist chair backs, careful not to let his grandfather's watch catch on the sleeves as he shrugs it onto his shoulders. Everything about him is methodical now. At least, everything that isn't them.
"Where are my keys?" Logan taps the pockets of the coat as he searches the top of the vanity.
"Maybe there?" Veronica points to the dining table, currently littered with her case files. "Just because I have a stakeout tonight and can't attend this mixer thing with you, doesn't mean I think you're boring for going."
"Except that you do."
They've had this conversation before. It feels like they have one like it every week. It happens whenever Veronica turns down a night of going out with his friends or bails on a Navy event, and always intensifies those last few days before his deployment.
She wants to support his interests - in theory - but the reality of it always has her heading for the door. It's selfish, but it's also self-preservation. The more entwined their lives become, the more she finds herself needing him. That's not a feeling that sits well with her.
Veronica walks over to the table to help him look. "When did I say you were boring?"
"Actually, I misspoke." Logan lifts each folder from the table to check under it before roughly slamming it back down. "I believe you implied that everything I love is boring."
"Not true. I'm not boring," Veronica says, trying and failing to hit the right tone for humor without going too far.
Her chest tightens at the crooked smile tugging at the side of his mouth as he looks up at her, eyes hollowed out and tired. "No. No, you're not. Even when you were, you really weren't."
She is so bad at this. There were never any real issues to solve with other boyfriends, or maybe she just never cared enough about them to try? If things weren't running smoothly, she always had the option of hitting eject.
Not with Logan, though. Veronica has tried walking away from him before - many times - and it never works. Miserable or happy, they will always gravitate together, as certain as the moon affects the tides. She'd given up the illusion of control over that months ago.
"Bingo." Logan's hand slips under the last folder, dragging out his keys by the gaudy metal tag lovely etched with the words 'Seamen do it better'. Courtesy of Dick, of course. "Don't wait up."
"Logan, stop!" Veronica circles around to block off his exit and he waits for her to speak. She can see the reflection of his disappointed face dance on the top of his black patent shoes with each impatient tap of his right foot. "I don't think everything you love is boring."
Logan bats his eyes at her, disbelieving. He never lets her get away with anything.
"Okay fine. Some of the things you're into, they're just not my things," she says quickly, words tripping over themselves in her desperation to get it all out before he leaves. "But not all of my things are your things either."
"Okay..." he says, in an expectant tone that begs her to continue.
She clears her throat and forces a smile, catching the edge of his jacket sleeve between her fingers to keep him from leaving. "Besides, spending time with you is my favorite thing - and I think it's yours, too. I'd rather snuggle on the couch watching 'Waiting for Guffman' with you than do just about anything else in the world."
His lips purse, and for a moment she isn't sure which way his reaction will go. "God, I really am boring. Was I always this boring?"
Veronica exhales the breath she was holding as he takes a step closer, absently twirling the keys around his index finger before catching them in his palm. "If you're boring, Logan, then God help the rest of us."
He tips his head from side to side. "Maybe, it's just that bad-boy-gone-good sounds appealing, until it actually happens and you realize he doesn't give you the same rush he once did?"
"You give me plenty rush." Veronica steps into his personal space and wraps her arms around his waist. "And despite popular opinion, you've always been good."
"Most of Neptune might argue."
"They can fight me on it." She presses her body against his, forcing the embrace. "I might not say it enough, but I'm so proud of you. And I - I love that you've become this amazing guy, I just wish...I wish you didn't have to be an amazing guy on a warship 5,000 miles away from me."
His forehead drops onto the top of her head and he exhales a warm breath into her hair. "I wasn't exactly a functioning person when you first fell in love with me, but I am now. Are you sure what you were first attracted to is even there anymore?"
She tilts her head up sharply, forcing him to lean back to look at her. "Are you saying that I only liked you because you were fucked up? Logan, we've been friends since we were 12."
"To be fair, I was a pretty big fuck up at 12, too." Logan holds his hand up, to stave off her inevitable protest. "I was. I mean, it wasn't my fault...well, most of it." He scrubs his hand over his face and laughs weakly. "I have no idea where I'm going with this."
"I threw away an Ivy League education and a six figure job to take pictures of horny middle-aged men playing hide the salami with their secretaries. You fight for truth and the American Way. Of the two of us, I think we can safely say you're not the one who's fucked up." She intends for this to come out as playful, but the underlying pathos is hard to hide.
His eyes dart toward her, a flash of hurt visible behind his eyes. "I don't think of you as a fuck up."
"Sometimes you do," she says, quietly, "and you wouldn't be wrong. Not really. I know I have - we have - some issues to work out."
Logan stares down at her, his expression distraught. "Besides the Navy, the only thing I've ever truly wanted for myself was you. If you think for even a second that I would ever see you that way - as a fuck up - well, what does that say about me? Maybe we really have drifted too far apart to work?"
The mere suggestion of a separation plummets her stomach to her feet like a broken elevator. "I'm scared, Logan."
He nods, smoothing her hair down on the sides with his hands. "I know."
"I don't know if I can do this." She fists the stiff material of his jacket, feeling only slightly guilty about mussing his uniform. "Being a grown up sucks."
"Not for some of us." She laughs as he wipes the stray tear from her cheek with his fingers.
"True." Veronica finally relaxes at the sight of Logan's familiar smirk. "You seem to have mastered this whole adulting thing better than most."
"Don't know about that. Half the time I don't know where I've put my keys." Logan's thumb brushes over her lips and he sighs. "Look Veronica, you are who you are, and whoever that is, I'm in love with her. You are not something I can live without, okay? It's not an option, so we'll just have to figure out a way to make things work between us."
"We have to?" She leans her face into the palm of his hand and closes her eyes, wishing they could stay like this forever. "You always seem so certain about me."
She's certain about him too - just not certain about all of this - the domestic life they've been cobbling together over the past few months.
He looks deeply into her eyes, the way he always does when he wants to make sure she really hears him. "I've doubted almost every single decision I've ever made in my life, but never you."
The heated way he stares at her, the intensity of his words, never fail to make her feel like a girl in a movie. "I know. But-"
"You're the only one for me. It's an indisputable fact." He cuts her off, refusing to indulge her insecurities. "If I had to choose between the Navy and you, it would be you. It will always be you. Just please don't make me choose."
Veronica exhales a shaky breath and grips his forearms for support. "Wow. That was - fuck. Sometimes I wonder how you're a real person."
"That's pretty much what everybody on the base says about you, whenever I talk about you." He laughs at her indignant gasp, leans forward and presses their lips together, slow and wet, like a dessert to be savored.
He then abruptly pulls back and runs his finger down the side of her jaw. Veronica tries to chase his kiss. "You're such a tease."
"Am I?" He shrugs, his regular shit-eating grin already in place. "I think we both know I'm a sure thing. Later tonight, at least."
"I'm counting on it." She lifts onto her toes and ghosts her mouth over his, insistently - over and over again - until he parts his lips to let her in.
After a few short minutes, he pulls away again, dropping one last kiss as an afterthought. "Gotta go. Duty calls."
She watches, forlorn, as Logan quickly brushes out the creases in his jacket. Veronica lifts his hat from the table and perches on his head like a French beret. "Sometimes I really hate the Navy."
He looks at her sadly, hand already on the doorknob. "Yeah, I know."
...so slowly now
I will stay with you…
By the time Veronica rolls into their bedroom, it's well after 2am.
Logan is already asleep, his arms curled protectively around her pillow.
She silently strips her clothes off as she approaches the bed, letting them drop on the floor in her wake. Even though she never left her car tonight, she still feels dirty. There's nothing she wants more than to crawl in next to him and pretend the world outside doesn't exist.
It never gets easier, watching people's marriages end. Even when one partner is suspicious enough to hire her to follow their spouse - even when they get the proof - the first thing they always claim is that they never saw it coming.
Logan stirs at her approach, reaching out to her in his sleep, a slow smile brimming on his face. "Missed you," he whispers, words muffled by her pillow. "Love you."
She climbs into bed beside him and gently removes her pillow from his arms, slipping herself into the newly-vacant space. "I know."
...will you stay with me?
the night is long …
The place where the Christmas party is being held is a relic from the nineties, not too different from the blue-collar sports bars Veronica allowed herself to be dragged to after she'd transferred to Columbia.
At the time, she thought going through the motions - following the crowd - might make her feel normal by osmosis. Now, she knows better. She had been sleepwalking for the better part of a decade, though she didn't realize it until the moment her temperature spiked at the sight of Logan's name on her caller ID.
She had an epiphany that day in the waiting room of the corporate hellhole she nearly signed her life away to. No matter how much easier it would have been to pretend otherwise.
The colored Christmas lights twinkling above the entrance of the bar are garish and disorienting rather than festive. They, along with the too-loud recording of 'Cotton Eye Joe' blaring over the loudspeaker, would normally have been enough to drive her out of the bar entirely. But, she made a promise that she's determined to keep this time.
As Veronica wanders past the bar, a woman with a nose ring, tribal beads, and an impressive set of dreadlocks presses a closed beer into her hands. Unasked. "Take it. You look like you need it more than I do," she says, gesturing the bartender to bring her another. "On me."
"Thanks...stranger." Veronica's not sure who this angel of mercy is, but she has never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. She smiles, twists the top, and lifts her bottle in gratitude. "Am I that transparent?"
"You look a little overwhelmed, but it's like that for the newbies. You're wearing pastel," she explains, before Veronica has a chance to ask.
"Am I?" Glancing down to verify, Veronica realizes that the woman is right. She's wearing a sequin-embellished, pale blue tank top with her favorite pair of jeans. She suddenly feels very self-conscious. "I wasn't sure what people wore to these things," she says, tipping her bottleneck against the other woman's. "Thanks for the beer. I'm Veronica."
A wide grin spreads across the woman's face. "Betty."
Veronica nearly does a spit take. "You're putting me on."
"Kind of? My name is Elizabeth, and I actually go by Liz, but your intro was hard to resist." She lifts an e-cig to her lips and takes a long drag, before offering it to Veronica. "You vape?"
"Tempting, but no." She shakes her head. "My vice is sugar."
"Really? I'm trying to stay away from refined sugar. My husband, Dan," Liz says, gesturing to a random spot in the back room, "is hot to have a baby. I have a family history of diabetes and the worst luck in general, so if anybody's getting gestational diabetes, it's me." She downs half of her beer and follows it up with another hit off the e-cig. "Nobody should be forced to go nine months without a cookie."
"Well, it's good to see you're embracing the healthy lifestyle." Veronica doesn't even bother trying to hide her smirk.
"Oh shut up," Liz says, laughing at herself. "You have no idea how bad I was before. I'm practically Richard Simmons, here."
Veronica lets out a low whistle. "That baby had better be worth the trouble."
Liz shrugs, like she's not 100% sure. "You're not going to do it?"
"The baby or the diabetes?" Veronica asks, brow furrowing.
Liz twirls her e-cig. "Any of it?"
"I really don't know. I can barely take care of myself properly." Veronica leans closer, like she's sharing a secret. "Can I ask you something forward? Do you actually want to have a baby or are you just doing it to do it?"
Liz laughs, deep and hearty, "I don't do anything unless I want to...except for attending shindigs like these."
"Your husband's in the service?"
"Everybody in this bar tonight is either serving their country or serving those who serve. Dan works in med bay. He's a resident." Liz holds her finger up, choking on a breath of smoke. "We met at ROTC. He joined up to pay for med school, while I was getting my MFA. When he finished school, the Navy approached him with an offer he couldn't refuse. Or so he claims."
"I hear you," Veronica says, not bothering to remove the bite from her tone.
"I see. Who are you here with? No, wait! Let me guess." Liz scans the room with her eyes, then leans across the bar to peek into the adjoining room. "You're George Clooney's girl."
Veronica's hairline rises. "I am? Better not tell his wife."
"No, hun." Liz lightly taps her e-cig on the top of the bar, like she's dusting off ash. "Not actual George Clooney. That's just a nickname, because he's a charming little fucker with a pretty white-boy face. Like George Clooney."
Veronica smirks into her beer. "Okay, then yeah. The description sounds...familiar."
"If you're the girl he's been going on about, it's a good thing you're here to dispel the rumors."
"Rumors?"
Liz leans a little closer, her knees knocking against the side of Veronica's leg. "People think he made you up."
Veronica looks around, feeling suddenly exposed. "Why?"
"If you're that mythical unicorn he's been describing, then you're some kind of folk hero." She smiles around her e-cig as she inhales her next vape. "A murderer-catching, private investigator-cum-lawyer-cum-private investigator who saved Hearst College from a racist?"
"A rapist," she says, a blush quickly rising to her cheeks, "...though if I had to go out on a limb, I'm pretty sure he was also a racist."
"Makes a little more sense, now. Clooney made you out to be the second coming." Liz takes in Veronica's appearance with a more critical eye. "I thought you'd be taller."
"Most people do." Veronica lifts her shoulders in apology. She has no idea what Logan told these people about her, no clue what role she's expected to play, and not knowing the script is unnerving. "Hopefully, he didn't only tell them the crazy stuff?"
"Well, that depends how you define crazy. I think you're fucking boss, but the other women here are probably clutching their pearls at the idea of talking to you." Liz gestures for two more beers. "Trust me, that's a good thing."
Veronica glances around the bar, wondering how many of these people have been surreptitiously watching her. She sticks out like a sore thumb amongst this tight knit group. If she didn't already know that, she does now. "I didn't expect...well, you seem cool."
"I am cool. We're not all housewives from Missouri. I mean, some of us are, but even they're not all bad. Particularly after you've gotten a few drinks into them."
The bartender hands Liz two fresh beers and she passes one over to Veronica, who nods and slides a twenty dollar bill across the bar. "This round's on me."
Liz grins at her like a doting parent. "Look, you haven't cornered the market on cynical bitches. Wait until you get roped into an afternoon of pillow crocheting with the wives from the National Guard. Practically every woman there at one point has wanted to stab themselves in the eye with one of their needles."
"They're actually more like hooks," Veronica says, crooking her finger to mime the shape.
Liz stares at her, bemused. "Wow. Maybe this crew is for you, after all?"
Now that Veronica's examining the group more closely, she realizes these people aren't all that different from her. Each and every one of the civilians in the room has a loved one shipping out with Logan. They all have the same spark of pain behind their eyes.
Being here, amongst other people who are feeling the way she is right now, well, there might be something to be said about misery loving company.
"How do you put up with the distance," Veronica asks, trying to quell the anxiety building in her chest.
"He's worth the wait." Liz shoots her a pointed look. "You know, we took a six month break a few years back and I dated other guys. Lemme tell you, other guys suck."
Veronica is surprised by her own gust of laughter. "So I've noticed."
"Life's too short for mediocre men and bad pie." Liz places a warm hand on her forearm. "Being with George Clooney the same as eating bad pie?"
"No. Being with George Clooney is like eating all the pies in the pie shop."
"Damn." Liz shakes her head as she puts the e-cig to her lips for a hit. "The look on your face right now, girl. I think you have your answer."
Veronica can see Logan approaching from across the room. He hasn't seen her yet, but she knows it's only a matter of time before he senses her there.
Several people stop him to say hello, to wish him a happy Christmas or good luck on his mission. They get sucked up into his orbit like everything around him usually does. She can't say she blames them.
Logan calls out to the barman like an old friend, patting him on the shoulder as the man slides a glass of tonic water across the counter. Always the most popular kid in school.
"Jesus, girl. You've got it bad, don't you?" Liz chuckles through her smoky exhale.
"I-"
Logan's hand is on the glass as he turns to go into the adjacent room, and Veronica can pinpoint the exact moment he sees her, because it stops him in his tracks. The wonder and joy in his eyes is almost heartbreaking. If she knew she would have gotten a look like that from him, she might have forced herself to go to one of these things weeks ago.
Liz gasps audibly. "Shit. He's not going to try to fuck you on the barstool, is he?"
Veronica barely hears her above the din in her head as she and Logan lock eyes. "He-"
Forgetting his drink on the bar, Logan strides across the room toward her, with a frightening level of purpose in his gait.
"Oh, my ass is staying here for this," Liz polishes off her second beer and signals for another, but is gracious enough to move a few stools down to give them some privacy.
"Hi," Logan's voice is breathy as his hands fall to Veronica's knees.
Veronica shivers from the touch. "Hi."
He takes a cautious step forward and she unconsciously parts her thighs to make room for him. "You said you weren't coming."
"I got thirsty?" she shrugs her shoulders, trying to play it cool.
"You got thirsty." He repeats, like he can't quite believe what he's hearing. "Of course you did."
"I didn't say what I was thirsty for." She bites down on her bottom lip, in an attempt to keep her poker face. "Conversation. I'm thirsty for some deep conversation."
"I believe I can quench that thirst." A blinding smile lights across his face, taking her strange mood along with it for the ride. "You know, I almost quit the service tonight, so we could be together."
Her brows furrow, a sick feeling building in the pit of her gut. "I didn't ask you do to that. Tell me you didn't do that, Logan."
"I didn't. And, I don't want to, but I would if it were the only way." Logan's hands cup Veronica's face, cradling it like something rare and precious.
"It's not. Don't do that. Please don't." Veronica struggles to speak under the weight of her guilt. She never wanted to make him feel insecure about her commitment to him, never intended for him to file away the best parts of his life just to fit together with hers. Other than when he feared for her safety, he has never asked that of her. "We'll figure something out. Of course we will, because we have to. Right?"
"That's right." He brushes a thumb along the length of her cheek. "Because you're the only one I want to dirty skype with from the semi-private lounge of an overcrowded battleship. Only you."
"Lucky me." Her tone is light, but she means every word.
He throws his head back and laughs, white teeth reflecting the disco lights above them. "I can't believe you actually came to one of these."
"I'm sorry it took me so long." Veronica can feel the eyes of half the bar watching them and shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "Everybody is looking at us. Oh God. What are they waiting for?"
"I'm pretty sure they were starting to think I was making you up, like when nerdy kids at camp claim to have a girlfriend in Canada," he says, leaning further into her space, lowering his voice to a whisper. "I think they're waiting for me to kiss you, just to prove you're the woman in question."
"Oh, is that what they're waiting for?"
"Well, I am." He brushes his nose against hers, grazing their lips together for a brief perfect moment.
She curls her fingers around the edges of his jaw, pulling him toward her, her cheeks flushing pink under the heat of his look. "I know I don't love you the way that you want me to, but I'm trying."
His lips pass over hers again, a barely-there butterfly kiss. "It's enough for me, Veronica."
"No, it's not." Veronica frowns, and Logan kisses her brow to smooth the tension lines away. "Look, I don't know what I'm doing half the time, and I'll probably fuck this up a lot before we get it right, but I promise you I won't stop trying. So, I'm in. Whatever this is, I'm in."
Her pulse is jackrabbiting so hard she might actually pass out. He has to know by now how difficult this kind of thing is for her to do, how much each word has cost her.
"Baby, you look like you're about to have a heart attack." Logan places a hand above her left breast, his expression so fond and dear she could almost shatter from looking at it. "I don't - you don't have to say these things. I'm not going anywhere. I already told you that. And I'll only take as much as you can give me."
"I know." She interlaces their fingers, kisses his stubbled cheek and drags her lips against the underside of his jaw. He sighs at her touch. "But you deserve more. We both do. And I want - I'm going to be better about it. All of it."
Logan starts playing with her fingers, smiling. "Does this mean you'll send me dirty pinups to post in my bunk while I'm gone?"
She can't help but laugh. "So filthy you won't be able to look at yourself in the mirror the next morning."
His grin widens. "And you'll write me every day?"
Veronica balks. "I already text you ten times a day, so sure."
He presses in closer, his body a warm line against her torso. "Will you go to some of the Navy events with the other spouses and partners while I'm gone?"
"This is turning into the 12 Feats of Hercules." She rolls her eyes, then lifts their joined hands and kisses the back of his knuckles. "I'll go to...a limited number of events. Maybe I'll hit the Navy wives crochet club and fashion you an ugly winter scarf? I hear it can get pretty cold at night on the water."
"I would wear it with pride." He kisses her nose.
"If you're really good, I might even make you a pair of matching gloves. For next year."
"Wow." Logan eyes drop to her lips. "You really must love me."
"I really must." She buries her face into his neck and tries to memorize his scent. "Merry Christmas, Logan."
"It's certainly looking that way." His hand snakes under the back of her shirt as he pulls her closer. "Time to go."
"But I just got here!" she protests, suddenly conscious of the need to do the right thing.
"Take me home now, and I just might be persuaded to stuff your stocking."
"Well, hello Santa."
… but you are here
A/N2 - Thanks so much for reading! If you have the time to leave a comment, I'd love to know what you think of the story.
Happy Holidays!