A/N: This story was written for VM Fic Recs' September Challenge. I chose Prompt 6b: "Take one of the moments from the season three opening credits and write a fic around it."
I went with this moment from the opening credits. I had it in my brain that they were on a boat when in actuality it's a lifeguard stand, apparently? So, forgive me. Hopefully this still works.
Thank you again to Leah for reading through this and somewhat calming my nerves.
Trigger warning: Brief mentions/implications of death, rape, and suicide.
Three days after Cassidy jumps – after she realizes what actually happened at Shelley's party, after she thinks she's lost another person – Veronica leaves the apartment.
She hasn't talked to Logan since he slipped away during her hysterical reunion with her dad. She hasn't known how to talk to anyone.
Before Keith leaves for work in the morning, he's waking her up, asking her if he needs to stay home. Veronica tells him no, says she's fine even though they both know she's halfway lying. She stays in her pajamas, makes the occasional batch of cookies, eats the cookies, and watches movies that require little focus. She lets this happen, knows she owes it to herself to wallow and cry into her hands, to be overcome by how twisted and fucked up the last few years of her life have been.
Veronica's thoughts waver between the events of that night and just Logan. She's heard the news: Aaron is dead, gone, finished. She can see Logan already, his sadness disguised by a smile and the shake of his head, saying that he's better off, that he's been alone since long before his mom left. She needs to get to him.
On the third day, she wakes up to a single text from Logan: The boat at 2?
She replies: I'll be there.
Veronica gets out of bed at noon and immediately takes a hot, almost suffocating shower. She throws on two layered tanks and an old pair of ripped jeans, grabs a jacket to bring along. She wears her hair behind her ears in two low, long pigtails and puts Lilly's necklace on last. Her heart is racing by the time she's ready.
Is she ready? She has to be.
It's overcast and chilly outside, looks like the sky might open up in the next fifteen minutes. She waits for him anyway. Her fingers trace the numbers on the wooden sign near Logan's boat: #062. She breathes in the distant familiarity.
The summer of seventeen. Casual dinners, board games, breaking curfew. Her head resting in his lap, his fingers through her hair and on her cheek and laced between her own, listening to the water around them. Laughing, teasing, bickering, saying nothing at all. Retreats to the cabin, warm and alone together, always right. Not quite going there, but going further each time, so close. Why can't it be just like this?
She hears Logan walking up behind her, his hand reaches for the middle of her back. His voice is quiet, shy even. "Hey."
Veronica looks over her shoulder to see him, unable to let her mouth turn up at all. Her eyes meet his, and they look as sad as she's felt.
She flinches when Logan's hand moves to the left by half an inch, and he slips it away quickly, into one pocket of his cargo pants. He ducks his head, studies their feet, the wood below them, not Veronica. Her jaw tightens, and she's frustrated that this is where she's at again.
"Hi," Veronica says. She turns to face him, allows a small smile this time. She tries to stand up straight, keep a distance, but she ends up softening against him. Her face is at his chest and she's breathing him in. It takes him a second, but Logan rests his cheek on the top of her head and be brings one arm around her. Veronica holds her breath, willing tears away. Not today.
Logan releases her, keeps one hand on her waist. "Talk over there?" He points a thumb in the direction of a small yacht, the one he bought a year ago. She wonders how long it's been since he was last here, wonders if he's brought anyone since her.
She nods and takes his hand, her fingers wrapping around his. She lingers behind him as they walk along the dock toward the boat entrance. Veronica climbs the steps first, but stops near the top. Logan stands across from her, both of them leaning against the hand railings. She's holding on like it's all that's keeping her body from crumbling into a million pieces. Logan has one leg bent and between both of hers.
"Logan, I'm sorry for not calling you, not thanking you for the other night," Veronica starts, her eyes begging his not to break away. "I'm sorry about Aaron. I should have called."
He reaches over to move a stray piece of hair away from her face. His hand frames the side of her forehead. "You don't need to be sorry. I'm doing okay. Are you okay?"
"I think I will be. I just needed some time."
"Yeah," he says, nodding. His hand moves to grasp the railing above her shoulder. He hesitates, but leans in to kiss her cheek. So quick, so light. He smiles. "I'm glad you came today."
She smiles back and there's a rush of good again, of happy. "Me too."
They're interrupted by the sound of her dad's voice somewhere in their vicinity. Veronica's eyes dart away from Logan's and narrow as she looks behind him, and he glances back too. They see Keith at the start of a dock two boats down, and he's walking, deep in conversation with an elderly man, nearing them. It's probably a business call. Logan and Veronica are both quiet while the two men pass by, hopeful that her dad won't spot them and interrupt this.
Once Keith is out of sight, Veronica closes her eyes and tilts her head back, relieved. Logan turns his attention back to her, blowing a puff of air from his mouth. "I have food inside. I stocked up. You hungry?"
"Yes," she laughs. "I'm hungry."
Hours later, they're full of junk food and snacks because Logan might never learn to cook. Eating and talking on the floor turned into giggling and wrestling and then kissing and more, and she's sure she's missed this part the most.
They're still in the cabin, but they've moved to the bed, and nothing else really matters. Nothing but this.
She's straddling him, her hands behind his neck and on his back and on his arms, his hands inching under her top. Logan's lips find her throat and her shoulder and her mouth. They pull at each other, already as close as they can be but it's still not close enough.
Veronica breaks away, sits back, and her fingers tug at the bottom of his shirt. Logan lifts his arms as she helps it off of him with nervous hands, and she tosses it behind her. She kisses his jaw, the curve of his neck, and then his chest, pausing along the way.
Logan lifts both her shirts, taking his time removing them, always studying her every reaction. He lifts her up and flips them around so that he's hovering over her, and they keep going.
This is not new for her, but it is. This is different. This is Logan. Everything is slow, but urgent. Gentle and careful, but desperate. She wants him. He wants her. They've waited too long.
He asks more than once if she's sure she wants this, here, now, and she nods yes and says yes and shows him yes.
Logan drops her off at the airport on Tuesday and the second they break apart, she already wants him close to her again. A whole week, that's a like a month.
He starts to back away, watching her as she stands in line at security. Veronica scrunches her face up and then grins. Logan laughs and gives her a quick wave, then turns to leave.
A week is like a month. But then she'll be back and everything will be fine. She can feel it.
The story's title is taken from "Shine" by Benjamin Francis Leftwich because it's one of many songs from Spotify's 'Coffee House' playlist that I listened to while writing, and because Logan studying Veronica with open eyes is so important.
We'd fall asleep by the big blue sea
With open eyes so we could see
The way it shines for you and I
You know it'll shine until we fly
I hope you find the love that's true
So the morning light can shine on you
I hope you find what you're looking for
So your heart is warm for ever more
