A/N: So I posted every week for nearly 2 years (100 weeks), but then I stopped, out of self-preservation, and I haven't been able to get reliably motivated to finish much of anything since then. Promptober drove me to write regularly, but when it was done...again with very little getting accomplished.
This story has been in the works since June 2017. It was supposed to be 5 chapters, and 1 through 4 have been done since April 2018. Chapter 5...as the ending chapter in my year of not finishing anything, it refused to show itself. I'm tired of this and I'm going to start pushing back.
That means I'm here promising regular posts again. Generally, I work best with that kind of pressure. However, I can't go back to the weekly posts. It's just not feasible in my life, so my plan is to position myself for every other week. That gives me 8 weeks with chapters already mostly done (there's always something to edit) and means that this pesky chapter 5 has until March 2 to drag itself out of my fingers. After that, there might be a chapter six and then I'm hopeful to get some of my lingering WIPs moving again, plus maybe a few new things. Cross your fingers for me.
Logan glanced through the peephole in his front door and chuckled. Well, looky who's here. He flung the door wide open and leaned his elbow against the door jamb, running his hand against the back of his head. He knew he'd accomplished his goal when his guest's eyes widened as they went to his bulging bicep. He moved his free hand up to rub lazily against his bare chest and the smirk he couldn't control broadened as her stunned gaze tracked his movement. Indifferent, my ass.
"This is a surprise," he said. "I didn't think you were coming here anymore." He only put a little bit of emphasis on the action word in that sentence but the pink stain across her cheeks told him she'd caught it.
"Must you answer the door half naked?" she asked in an irritated voice.
"No one else complains," he replied in an innocent tone. "The missionaries are showing up a couple times a week now."
She huffed in aggravation and turned away. "God, this was a mistake."
He leaped after her, all teasing forgotten, catching her by the arm. "Oh, no, no, no. Not a mistake." He pulled her inside the house and closed the door. She backed up against it and he flashed on the last time they'd come into the house together and he'd picked her up and fucked her against this door as soon as they'd arrived. From the look on her face, he was pretty sure that she was remembering the same thing.
He took a step closer and she sighed again. "Logan," she said softly.
"Veronica," he murmured as he dropped his head to nuzzle her neck. That was all it took. Her head rolled back giving him more space to kiss and her hands stroked along his sides. He smiled at the whimper that escaped her.
"So," he teased between kisses, "to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit? I had it on good authority that this thing between us was done and you were not going to show up here again. Of course, that does seem to be how you say 'see ya later' these days, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised."
She pushed him away with a huff and he stepped back obligingly, leaning his elbow on the wall this time. "Okay, not here to make out? Or maybe you are, but you just don't wanna admit it yet."
Veronica sighed heavily, her face sad but resigned. "I just wanted to tell you that I really don't think we should see each other anymore. It's just falling into old, safe patterns. I'm back in town to stay, but we've both moved on in the last six years. Yeah, it's easy to resort to the familiar but we shouldn't do that to each other. It's not good for either of us."
He could feel his heart trying to throw itself out of his body onto the ground, ending the misery of not having her once and for all, but he'd be damned if he let her see that. And what a load of crap anyway. "So you came all the way over here, in person, to tell me we shouldn't see each other anymore? Something you've said a few times already but couldn't stick to? Wouldn't it have made more sense to text that kind of message? Somehow, I feel like—" he looked away from her and tapped his chin, lips pressed together like he was thinking hard "—like maybe you're full of shit."
The soft, sad face was gone in an instant, replaced by a hard, angry, shocked look. His pants were immediately tight and he silently thanked Dick who'd told him shortly after Veronica came back to town that he needed to stop wearing sweatpants anywhere besides his own bedroom. "You're gonna put somebody's eye out with that thing," had been his oh so tasteful comment. "She shows up and boom! You're a walking, talking hard-on."
"You've sure got a lot of nerve!" she shouted, an angry sneer twisting her lips. "I'm full of shit?"
"Umm, yeah. You're full of shit." He crowded her back against the door again, looming over her but not touching. "When have you and I ever been safe? Being with you is the most dangerous thing I've ever done. Only with you do I risk getting my heart torn out of my chest on a daily basis. You're the only person in this world who can shred me with a glance."
Her eyes grew wide and her breath hitched. He watched her mouth fall open slightly, her lower lip trembling. It was all he could do to not lean down and catch that lip in his teeth. Right before he picked her up and carried her to his bedroom.
"And you. You think back six years and tell me that I was your safe choice. If I had been, maybe you wouldn't have run away." Logan reached out to touch her, but pulled away before he did. That wasn't going to fix this. Yeah, she'd probably fall back into bed with him, like all the other times, but that wasn't going to make her truly see what was right in front of her. It was probably making this even harder to fix. He needed to convince her that she was wrong to keep holding him off because they did belong together. That no one else would ever be enough for him, or for her.
He stepped away from her again, feeling a stab of excitement when she took a small step toward him. She didn't close the distance that he'd initiated but he could still feel the pull between them.
"Come on, Veronica, stop lying to yourself. You're as in love with me as I am with you. We've both tried to move on. For six long and painful years. But we can't. I know I can't at least. And I don't want to. You're who I want. You're the only one I want." His hand touched her face before he could stop it, a single finger stroking her soft cheek.
"We both know that's not true," she said scornfully, jerking her head away from him. "You had someone else here three days after the last time I was here. I am most definitely not the only one you want. I get that you're highly skilled in the art of talking women into your bed but can you at least do me the courtesy of not patronizing me with your well worn seduction lines?" She shook with anger, or maybe disgust. It could be so hard to tell when she went crazy like this. He felt something inside him shatter as he realized that she was probably never going to trust him enough to admit how she felt. It was freshman year at Hearst all over again. He truly was alone.
Logan took another step back, and then another when she followed again. He had to get away.
"Look, believe what you want. I have not had anyone else here since you came back to town. It was pretty rare to actually have anyone here even before you came back, but once you were here and I was hoping that you'd..." He shook his head and turned away. He couldn't keep doing this to himself. "Let yourself out."
He started toward the stairs to his room, then switched course for his office. He knew there was a nearly full bottle of Scotch in there. He had only gotten a few steps away when the feel of her hand burned against his arm. He stopped, unable to resist her touch, even as his head screamed at him to run.
"What do you mean? I saw you pick up that woman. She was very pretty, in a skanky kinda way. Tall brunette? She was definitely your type. Gave me flashbacks to senior year. Is she married too?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Veronica. The only type I have is tiny blondes with bad tempers and an extraordinary ability to pretend they feel something other than what they really do. And you're the only person who meets that description that I know. So, my type? Only you, baby."
He pulled away from her grasp, unable to stand the heat of her touch when she was refusing what he was offering. He'd been sad without her for the last six years, an empty place inside him that nothing and no one had ever been able to fill, but, after a while, he'd been okay. Reasonably decent life, functioning adult, friends who kept him from being completely alone. Yes, occasionally there were women in his life but no one he wanted to have stay. He'd proved to himself that he could live on his own if he couldn't have her. He knew that his life wasn't all that it could be, but it was fine.
Then, six weeks ago, out of the blue, she was back. Even when he wasn't sure where she was at in her life—was there a husband? children?—the thrill of just being near her again was enough to make his life...almost complete. And then, it turned out there was no husband and no children, and they'd spent time together and he could feel her happiness at being with him, and he was sure, he just knew, it was going to work out this time.
It had taken two weeks of coffee get-togethers and casual lunch dates before she came to dinner at his house. After he plied her with enough Italian food to choke a horse, she'd crawled into his lap and talked about how much she'd missed him. He knew he was taking a huge risk, but when she began to kiss his neck, there wasn't anything that he could do except carry her up to his room and do his best to make up for six lost years.
He'd tried to stay awake once she finally fell asleep, not wanting to give her an opportunity to run away. But it had been a pretty eventful night, and he'd drifted off to sleep with her wrapped in his arms. When he woke in an empty bed, he wasn't even surprised.
He'd finally managed to catch up to her a couple days later, but she'd claimed that she drank too much and got nostalgic. She apologized for the bad decision. Being with her had made him feel more complete than he had in six years and she made it out to be nothing. But, despite her words, she'd kept coming back, and he thought they were making progress. At least, her excuses had been lessening with each visit. The last time she'd come home with him, she'd stayed all night, was still friendly the next morning, and had even been agreeable when he suggested plans for the weekend. He'd had to make a quick trip out of town, but when he returned, ready to spend two days away from everything but her, she hadn't met him as planned and then didn't respond to his calls and texts. He showed up at her dad's, out of his mind with worry about what could have happened to her, and she'd slammed the door in his face. He'd stood there in shock for a moment, then began to knock. After nearly twenty minutes, she'd finally opened the door again, and told him in no uncertain terms that she was done with him. He'd spent the last few days trying to figure out what he'd done, hoping that she'd show up again and give him another chance to prove himself to her. But now that she had, it wasn't about giving him another chance, it was just more accusations.
"Logan, you don't have to lie to me. You don't owe me your fidelity, I get that. Just don't treat me like an idiot and pretend."
Her accusation, and its implication, that they were nothing more than a casual fling, was more than he could take.
"Get out of my house." He turned toward the windows, unable to bear even looking at her. It was suddenly all too clear. She couldn't believe how he felt about her because she didn't feel the same, and he couldn't stand to hope anymore. "The only person I've been lying to is myself, and it's gotta stop." He turned back toward her, resolved at last. "You came to tell me we shouldn't see each other. Message received. Now get out and don't come back. I don't care how horny you get, or how much of a whore you've convinced yourself I am. This house is no longer available for you to satisfy any embarrassing needs you don't want anyone else to know you have."
"Logan." Her voice was soft. "I never called you a—"
"You say it all the time, Veronica, you just use slightly less inflammatory words. And it's just now dawning on me that while I've been seeing our time together since you came back as a new beginning, another chance...for you, it's just that you know I can get you off better than any of your nice guys. I guess my whoring ways are of some benefit to you."
He shrugged and turned away again, moving to where the Scotch and the highball glasses sat. "Were of benefit is what I should say. I'm done helping you scratch an itch while you trample me under your high-heeled boots." He poured about four fingers of the Scotch and gulped it down, relishing the burn down his throat and into the gaping hole he could feel in his chest.
"Logan," she said again, her voice coming closer. He grabbed the bottle and brushed past her; his face averted so she couldn't see the tears he could feel on his cheeks. He paused at the door with his back to her.
"Just go, Veronica, and don't come back."
It took a moment to force himself forward again. He'd assumed that the lack of a significant other when she finally came back meant that they had a chance. Accepting that he was wrong was really hard, but hearing her move behind him gave him the kickstart he needed and he moved swiftly up the stairs into his room. He flicked the lock, slumped against the door, and tipped the bottle up to drink straight from it. He wasn't going to let himself fall back into the same black hole he had when she'd left him six years ago, but he was going to give himself the night to grieve. In the morning, he was putting Veronica Mars in the rear view mirror and he wasn't going to let himself go there again. Not even if it killed him.
AN2: Don't worry so much. You know I can't let this stand.