Title: Absolute Bearing
Characters: Logan Echolls, Veronica Mars, OFC
Pairings: Logan/Veronica, Logan/OFC
Rating: Teen
Summary: It's New York Fleet Week and the sailors are out in force. Set within the movie universe, but not movie compliant. First in the Finding The Way Back series.
Author's Notes: Entry for the Veronica Mars Summer Lovin' Fic Challenge
New York City – May 2014
O'Lunney's Times Square Pub stands proudly between the Lyceum Theatre and the Hyatt hotel on W 45th Street in New York City. Sarah Burgess doesn't often frequent the pubs and bars in this area, finding them too busy and full of tourists, but it's Fleet Week and Emily's heard that the sailors and officers like to congregate here when they're in town, so tonight she's willing to make an exception.
Emily grabs her hand and Sarah allows her best friend to drag her inside the already crowded pub. Despite the ample size, the décor—a mixture of light tones and dark mahoganies—manages to create a friendly, almost cosy atmosphere, and even as Emily pushes them through the throng of people, Sarah feels herself relax a little.
They squeeze into a small space at the bar counter, and Sarah leans against it, gaze roaming the room. It doesn't take long to spot the men in uniform; there's a whole bunch of them milling around the bar counter, as well as several small groups dotted around the room. Most of them are clad in the traditional neckerchief sailor uniforms, but the group of four men standing a few feet along the bar from them are wearing what she thinks is officer's dress—though her only frame of reference is Hollywood navy movies, so she can't be sure.
Her friend nods towards the four officers, one eyebrow rising in unspoken question, but before Sarah can respond, Emily's weaving her way past the other people standing along the bar, dragging Sarah along behind her, until they're right behind the small group. Emily wiggles her eyebrows, tilting her head forward and urging Sarah to get the attention of the closest two.
Sarah shakes her head vehemently. "I'm not gonna just go up and start talking to them."
Emily leans in with a mischievous grin. "Come on, Sarah, live a little. They're only here for a few days—the rate you're going, you'll miss your chance."
"Well, then." Sarah gestures toward the men in invitation. "Be my guest."
"Okay." Emily grins, squaring her shoulders, glancing down at her cleavage and adjusting her top invitingly. "Watch and learn."
Sarah presses her back against the bar counter to let Emily squeeze past, shaking her head when she glimpses the predatory glint in the other girl's eye. Emily's one of her best friends, has been since they were roommates freshman year at University of Michigan, but the girl can be shameless sometimes.
Emily winks at her, then accidentally-on-purpose stumbles backwards into the group of officers with an exclamation of, "Oh, I'm so sorry!"
One of them—a tall, slim man with dirty blond hair and blue eyes—reaches out to steady her, his fingers curling around her elbow. "Are you okay, miss?"
"Oh, I'm fine." Emily giggles, righting herself and adjusting her top once more. "Just lost my balance for a moment. Thank you so much for saving me."
Jesus, Emily, way to be blindingly obvious. Sarah presses her lips together to keep from laughing. Sure enough, the sailor's eyes are fixed on Emily's ample cleavage. He's already a goner and they haven't even exchanged names yet.
"Oh, it's no problem at all, miss," the officer says smoothly, hand still clasped around her friend's elbow. He releases his grip and holds out his hand, tilting his head in greeting.
"Lieutenant John Matthews at your service, but call me Ace."
"Pleased to meet you, Ace. I'm Emily." She shakes his hand, then gestures towards Sarah. "This is Sarah."
"Nice to meet you." Sarah smiles, stepping forward to shake his hand.
"Please, you must let us buy you a drink. To say thank you." Emily looks up at him, all wide-eyed innocence. Sarah resists the urge to roll her eyes at the display. "What can we get you fine sailors this evening?"
All four of the men are facing them with interest now and Emily grabs Sarah's arm, bringing her into the small circle they've formed.
"Same again, guys?" Ace asks the small group.
The other three nod, all smiling widely, and Ace turns back to Emily, indicating each of them in turn as he reels off the order. "That'll be a Bud for me, Coors Light for Tex, Corona for Skip and a plain, old Coke for Mouth over here."
As Ace gestures towards him, Sarah glances over to the man to her left, the one named Mouth; there's something a little familiar about him, but she can't put her finger on what it is. He's tall, but not as tall as Ace, and lean, with short, light-brown hair and dark, piercing eyes. He's good-looking, though not classically handsome… and his arms… her eyes zero in on the defined biceps peeking out from his short-sleeved, white shirt, then lower to his strong-looking forearms…yeah, they're good arms.
"Designated driver?" she asks teasingly.
He turns to her, one side of his mouth tugging up into a half-smile. "Something like that."
"Sarah." She holds out her hand to him.
He shakes it firmly, his grip confident. What do you know, he has a good handshake too. He's ticking all the boxes so far.
"Nice to meet you, Sarah." He smiles more fully, face lighting up as he does so, his tone casual but bright. "I'm—"
"Hey, Mouth, you want ice with your Coke?"
"Thanks, man." He nods, then turns back to Sarah. "Uh, guess it's Mouth. My call sign, that is."
"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Mouth," she replies, giving what she hopes is a flirty smile.
Being newly single, she's a little out of practice at the whole flirting thing. She broke up with her long-term boyfriend, Tom, about six months ago—they'd been together since sophomore year of college—and she hasn't gotten around to getting back into dating again yet, still in the process of picking up her life and rearranging it into some kind of semblance of normal.
Emily was the one who suggested Fleet Week as the perfect opportunity to forget all about Tom and let her hair down. While Sarah isn't against the idea per se, she's been out of the dating game for so long that she doesn't have a clue what she's supposed to do. Last time she was single and looking for love, she was nineteen, living in the campus dorms and going to house parties; it's a bit different now, at 24, trying to meet guys in bars instead of in class.
"So, what do you do in the Navy, Mouth?" she asks, as Emily passes her a cocktail, then hands Mouth his requested Coke.
"Oh." He looks down, expression bordering on coy, a small smile pulling at his lips. When he looks up at her again, his smile is wider, his stance more confident. "I'm an aviator. I fly planes."
He's a pilot? Sarah's impressed. "Wow, really? What kind of planes?"
"The F/A-18 Super Hornet."
She can detect a hint of pride in his tone, but surprisingly, it doesn't come off as cocky. More… awed, she supposes, as if he can't quite believe it himself.
"Wow," she says again. She's heard of those planes, at least; they're the ones the Blue Angels fly. "You're a fighter pilot? That's so cool."
He just shrugs, takes a swig of his drink. "I guess."
She leans in closer to him with a grin. "So tell me, did Top Gun get it right?"
He chuckles, shaking his head. "Not exactly. Some parts, maybe, but it's not quite as glamorous as Hollywood would have you believe."
"It must be amazing though." Sarah shakes her head. "To just be able to take off and fly whenever you want?"
Mouth grins, leans in covertly. "Not gonna lie, it's pretty fucking awesome."
"I bet." She nods. "I'd love to experience it. Or you know, even just see one up close."
"Well, we're doing a flyover at Pier 86 on the Hudson tomorrow at noon," he says. "You should come watch."
"Really? That would be great." She grins. "So is it like a display, or…?"
"Well," he says, turning to face her fully now. "It's just a flyover, but we'll be in missing man formation."
"Missing man?"
"Yeah. Uh, can you hold this for a sec?" He holds out his glass and she takes it from him, so he can demonstrate. "So, there'll be four planes, flying in what's called a 'fingertip strong right' formation, so we'll be in the shape of a V, but with the right arm longer than the left."
He holds out his hands, indicating three planes in triangular formation with one extra on the right, just behind.
"We hold that formation as we fly over, then this plane here," He indicates the middle one on his right. "Peels away and accelerates upwards into the sky, leaving a trail of smoke. That'll be me."
"Wow, that's pretty cool," she says, her lips curling up in a smile as she watches his animated demonstration. "And that's called the 'Missing Man Formation'?"
"Yeah." He nods. "It's usually performed in honour of a fallen pilot."
"I look forward to seeing it."
"You won't be disappointed." He winks flirtatiously, taking his drink back from her.
His fingers brush against hers as he reaches for it, and Sarah feels her cheeks heat up in response. She bites her lip, her eyes drifting to his Adam's apple as he brings the glass to his lips and takes a gulp. Sarah sips at her cocktail, noting out of the corner of her eye that Emily's already getting mighty cosy with Ace at the counter, while the other two officers have turned away and are busy chatting up two young college girls a few feet away.
"So, Sarah, what do you do?" Mouth asks then.
"I just finished grad school at NYU," she tells him. "Scientific Computing."
"Wow, heavy stuff. Well done." He shoots her a teasing grin, lifting his glass in acknowledgement. "I kinda sucked at computer class in high school."
"Thanks," she says. "It's not the most interesting subject, but it's what I'm good at."
"Good for you." He smiles. "What are you going to do now?"
"Not a clue," admits Sarah with a short laugh. "I'm giving myself a few weeks to de-stress before I have to figure the rest of my life out." He nods in understanding, and Sarah takes the opportunity to change the subject. "How do you like the Navy?"
"Yeah, it's good. I enjoy what I do," he says with a smile, before stopping for a moment, looking thoughtful. "You know, if you'd asked me at 18 what I would be doing with my life now, it would not have been this in any shape or form, but I'm glad for it now." He shrugs. "It's been something of a lifesaver."
"I'm glad." She smiles kindly.
Mouth nods, his eyes focusing on something above her head for a moment, before he shakes himself out of it and looks down at her, smile playing on his lips.
"You know, I get the feeling this isn't really the night for serious conversation," he says, lips curling into a smile full of suggestion, his eyebrows twitching upwards. "It's not exactly a secret what happens at places like this during Fleet Week."
He leans, his head dipping close to hers as he runs the back of one finger down her bare arm. Sarah shudders involuntarily.
"So, tell me, Sarah, what are your expectations for this fine evening?" he murmurs close to her ear.
Sarah swallows, her eyes sliding closed at the feel of his warm breath against her neck. She can't think straight. "Um, I…"
"'Cause, you know, I've been stuck on the ship for six long months," he adds softly. "I'm up for pretty much anything you have to offer."
Oh God. What is this man—this stranger—doing to me?
"Uh, well, I…" She's struggling to form words, all too conscious of his lean, Navy-trained body just inches from hers, and the sudden heat pooling low in her belly.
She sees him smirk out of the corner of her eye. "Look, I'm gonna hit the head. If you, uh, think of anything… I'll be just over there."
"Okay," she murmurs breathily as he turns, places his glass on the counter, then shoots a seductive grin over his shoulder as he weaves his way through the crowd to the back of the bar.
Oh fuck. Sarah lets out a breath she didn't realise she was holding. Her body is thrumming with anticipation. She wants him, damn it. To hell with avoiding one night stands; he's a tall, handsome stranger—a Navy fighter pilot, no less—and he wants her. She lifts the cocktail glass to her lips and takes a large sip, then thinks, what the hell, and downs the rest of it. Putting the empty glass on the bar, she straightens her shoulders and, with a quick glance towards Emily, who gives her a thumbs-up and mouths 'go for it', follows in the direction Mouth disappeared.
She steps into the dim corridor leading to the bathrooms, but can't see him, and is about to turn back toward the bar again when a hand shoots out, wrapping itself around her wrist and tugging her into a dark alcove.
"Shit!"
"Sorry," he murmurs breathily. "It's just me."
"You scared the crap out of me," she returns.
"Didn't mean to."
Her eyes begin to adjust to the darkness and she relaxes, able to make out some of his features now. Then his mouth is on hers, hot and inviting and eager, and she doesn't even think, just falls into it, fingers clutching his shoulders to steady herself. He's a fucking good kisser, she thinks absently, as his tongue darts out to trace her lower lip, then slides inside when she parts her lips in invitation. His hands slip around her waist, palms flattening against her lower back, holding her close.
When his mouth finally releases hers and he lowers his lips to her neck, pressing hot, urgent kisses along her skin, his hand slips lower, curving over her ass and down to her thigh, urging her leg up over his hip. She gasps, feeling his hard arousal pressing against her stomach.
God. This is… this is…
"Mouth?" A male voice filters through the haze of sensation. "Mouth, you back here?"
"Shit." He curses against her skin and releases her leg, letting it fall to the floor. "Sorry. He's not gonna go away unless I talk to him."
He steps back, straightens his shirt, then runs his hand through his hair, his eyes flicking upward for a moment, a calming breath escaping his mouth. Then he moves out of the alcove, keeping her mostly hidden in the shadows. She can see Emily's guy standing in the hallway.
"Yeah, I'm here."
"We're heading out," says Ace, his eyes flicking to Sarah as she moves further into the light. "Emily wants to see where the ship's docked. Said I might be able to sneak her on for a tour, and then maybe… well, who knows. You guys wanna join?"
Mouth glances towards Sarah, cocking his head in question. Seeing his ship would be pretty cool. She smiles. "Sure."
Mouth nods. "Yeah, we're in."
"Great. We'll see you out front."
As Ace disappears back into the bar, Mouth turns back to her with an apologetic smile. "Sorry."
"It's okay," she says. "I'd like to see your ship too."
"All right, then. Let's go."
He gestures with his hand, stepping back to let her past, but she stops him with a hand on his arm.
"He's a good guy, right? Emily will be okay with him?"
"Of course," he says, looking almost offended that she'd think he'd allow her friend to go off with someone who would take advantage of her. "I trust him. He would never…"
"Good." She nods in relief.
He studies her carefully. "You know I'm not like that either, right? I'm not going to force you into anything you don't want."
Sarah takes in the solemn expression and tense jaw, sees vulnerability in his eyes. This seems important to him, his tone serious and controlled. He seems genuine, his concern endearing, and she's not get a creeper vibe from him at all.
She nods slowly. "Yeah, I know."
He smiles and she can see relief in his expression.
She leans closer. "And just for the record, I won't force you into anything either."
"Good to know." The smile turns into a grin. "So, you ready to get out of here?"
"Just a sec." She points to her high heels. "These things are not made for walking."
She reaches into her purse and pulls out a pair of folded ballet flats, then steps out of her heels and slips them on, grabbing hold of his arm to steady herself.
"Always gotta be prepared," she quips.
She straightens to find him studying her thoughtfully. When she shoots him a quizzical look, he quickly turns it into a smile holding out his arm to her. They join Ace and Emily outside the bar and start making their way towards the dock.
The night is warm and it's comfortable, walking through the streets of Manhattan with Mouth. Even without her heels, she's not that much shorter than him, so there's no awkward dance involved in keeping their arms linked. They make small talk as they walk, Sarah explaining that she grew up in small town Florida, but attended the University of Michigan for undergrad before coming out to New York two years ago to study at NYU.
"So, how does the Big Apple fare in comparison?" he asks.
"Well, it took me a while to get used to big city life, but I kind of love it here now. The culture, the energy… the anonymity." She glances at him. "Back home, everyone knows everyone else… you can't get so much as a haircut without everyone noticing."
"Yeah." He nods like he knows what she's talking about.
"What about you?" she can't help asking.
"Grew up in Southern California." He shrugs, looks down to the floor, as if he's hesitant about revealing personal details. "Went to school there too."
"Is this your first time in New York?"
"No, I spent quite a bit of time here when I was a kid," he says. "For my dad's work. It's been a few years though."
He doesn't seem inclined to say anything more, so she asks, "What's it like living on the ship for so long?"
He launches into a description of the close quarters on the carrier, the crappy food. and the months stuck at sea with the same people all the time, with little enthusiasm, but when she asks about flying, he lights up, becoming more animated, his smile widening, and it's obvious then that he loves what he does. She's heard things about fighter pilots, how they're arrogant and full of themselves and think they're God's gift to women, but Mouth doesn't seem like that. If anything, he just seems grateful for the opportunity to do something he loves.
It doesn't take much longer to reach the pier, the ship coming into view, and Sarah gapes at the sheer size of it.
"Big, right?" says Mouth, standing just behind her. "It holds almost 6,000 people."
"Seriously?" She turns to look at him. "That's crazy."
"Yeah, it's kind of like a small, albeit extremely cramped, city inside," adds Ace, coming to a stop beside them, Emily at his side. "You wanna see if we can get you girls on for a tour?"
Sarah exchanges a glance with her friend, and they both grin, answering simultaneously. "Sure."
It turns out to be a little tricky, since the men have to seek approval from one of their superiors to bring civilians on board, but they manage it and within a few minutes, Sarah is stepping onto an aircraft carrier for the first time.
Mouth was right, she quickly realises, the carrier is incredibly cramped, the metal, grey corridors so small that you have to stop to let someone pass you, and getting from one deck to the next involves climbing up vertical, metal-rung ladders. Ace shows her and Emily some of the officers living quarters, and she has to admit she doesn't envy them… their entire living space is smaller than her childhood bedroom, yet six men live in it.
They part ways with Emily and Ace when Mouth takes her up to the flight deck. It's almost deserted tonight, but when they're at sea, he says, it's crammed full with aircraft. He shows her where the planes park and the catapult mechanism which launches them from the ship. It's fascinating. Granted, she's never been particularly interested in planes or the military, but that's probably because she hasn't had any exposure to it before.
After about an hour, Mouth escorts her off the carrier and back down to the pier again.
"So, that's my ship," he says with a grin, gesturing towards it.
"That was awesome." Sarah can't keep the smile off her face. "Thank you."
"My pleasure." He slides his hands into his pockets, looking down at her thoughtfully. "So, did you maybe want to—?"
He leaves the sentence open-ended, but she catches his drift. She's about to agree, but of course, this has to be the moment that his cell-phone goes off.
He sighs, muttering a quick apology and stepping a few feet away to take the call. Sarah watches curiously, and although he's facing away from her, she can see tension in his shoulders, in the way his hand rests on his hip, head dipping toward the ground as he talks, and she wonders what's going on. He hangs up, letting out a frustrated sigh and turning back to her. From his expression, it's not good news.
"Look, I'm really sorry." He nods to the phone in his hand. "That was my CO. Something's up and I have to go see him."
"That's okay," she replies quickly, ignoring the twinge of disappointment over what the night could have been. "Don't worry about it."
"Are you sure? I don't want to abandon you."
"It's okay. Really."
"Okay." He nods, tucking his hands into the back pockets of his slacks. "Will you be all right getting home?"
"I'll be fine." She nods. "I can hail a cab."
"Right." He seems a bit hesitant, but nods anyway. "Uh, look, I'm still doing the flyover tomorrow at noon. You should come."
"Wouldn't miss it." She tells him with a grin.
He looks at her thoughtfully for a moment, seemingly debating something, before he steps forward.
"Hey, listen, after we've landed, I'll be hanging around Pier 86 for a while. You know, if you wanna come say hi."
"Oh." She's surprised. She wasn't expecting to see him again after tonight. "Yeah, okay. Maybe I will."
"I should be there about an hour after the flyover. I'll be somewhere in the vicinity of the Concorde."
"Okay, I'll look out for you." She smiles. "Well, I'd better let you go. Good luck tomorrow."
"Thanks." He nods. "It was very nice to meet you, Sarah."
"You too, Mouth."
As she says it, her eyes flick to his lips. He must notice, because he takes a step forward and kisses her gently.
"Bye," she murmurs when they part.
"Bye, Sarah."
She gives a quick nod, pressing her lips together, before walking back along the pier, over to the taxi rank across the street, and hailing a cab.
As the taxi manoeuvres through the late-night traffic, Sarah feels a little bereft. It's been a great evening: she met a hot Navy officer, flirted, made out with him, and even got a tour of his ship… but it could have been even better; she could have been spending the night with him too. Instead, she's in a cab, on her way home, alone. She pulls out her phone and shoots off a quick text to Emily, checking she's all right and letting her know where she is. Her phone buzzes with a reply just as the cab is pulling up outside her Brooklyn apartment; apparently she and Ace are heading back to her place for the night.
Well, it's all right for some.
Sarah's roommate is sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by books and piles of notes, when she lets herself into the apartment.
"Good night?" the other girl asks, voice muffled around the pen in her mouth.
Sarah grins, closing the door and leaning against it. "I met a hot fighter pilot."
"And?"
"We talked, made out in a bar… he gave me a tour of his aircraft carrier," Sarah admits. "And I'm pretty sure we would have… you know… if he hadn't been called back onto the ship." She sighs wistfully. "God, I could have been having great sex right now."
"I'm sorry," her roommate says. "Was he at least a good kisser?"
"God, yeah." She lets her head fall back against the wood, giving herself just a moment to reminisce. "So, how's the studying going?"
She glances around the room, taking note of the disaster area the kitchen table has become in the three hours since she left.
"It's going, I suppose." Veronica sighs. She looks exhausted. "Just trying to remember why I ever thought law school was a good idea."
"I think you need a break," says Sarah decisively. "Listen, the pilot from last night… he's doing a flyover at Pier 86 tomorrow at noon. I said I would go watch, why don't you come too?"
She hesitates. "I don't know, I still have so much to do before Monday."
"Come on, please? You know you want to."
"Okay, fine." Veronica relents. "But just the flyover, okay? I really have to study."
"Great. You won't regret it, I promise." Sarah grins, moving across the room to give her a quick hug. Straightening up, she says, "Okay, I'm going to bed. Wish me dreams of sexy Navy pilots."
"I wish you sexy dreams," Sarah hears Veronica mutter from the kitchen as she heads down the hall to her room. "I'll just be here, with my books."
Sunday morning dawns warm and sunny, and the pier is already crowded when Sarah and Veronica arrive. After several minutes of squeezing through people and manoeuvring their way along the pier, they find a good spot in the middle of the pier.
"God, it's hot out today," observes Veronica, lifting her long hair up off her shoulders and fanning herself with her hand.
Sarah looks around at the stalls and trucks scattered around the pier, her gaze stopping on one very tempting prospect in particular.
"Ooh, I see a sno-cone truck," she says. "You want one?"
"God, yes." Veronica looks relieved. "Lemon-lime, please?"
Sarah eases her way through the crowd, pausing briefly on her way to stop at one of the information tables. The overly-cheerful girl sitting behind it asks if she wants an event programme and Sarah grabs two, figuring they'll work as makeshift fans. There's a long line for the sno-cones, and it takes nearly ten minutes to get to the front. she's almost sweating by the time she makes it back to Veronica.
"Here you go." She hands her roommate the lemon-lime cone.
"Thanks." Veronica smiles gratefully, digging in.
Sarah glances at her watch. "It's almost twelve; they'll be flying over in a couple of minutes."
"So, what are we watching exactly?" asks Veronica, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.
"The fighter jets." Sarah grins excitedly. "He said they're flying four F/A-18 Super Hornets. They'll be in like, a V position, but with two planes on one side and one on the other. The plane in the middle on the right—our left—is going to peel off and shoot up into the sky. That's going to be him."
"And what's this guy's name?"
"Oh, uh, you know what, I don't even know. He only told me his call sign." She grins, leaning in close. "Get this: Mouth."
Veronica's eyes go round, her mouth falling open. "Seriously? Is that as dirty as it sounds?"
"No idea, he didn't tell me where it came from," she says. "Though if last night is any indication, he's definitely talented in that area."
"Wow." She gives a sigh. "Now why I can't I get me one of those?"
"Actually…" Sarah glances down at the glossy programme of events tucked under her arm. "Maybe he'll be listed in here. Can you hold this a minute?"
She hands her sno-cone to Veronica and flicks through the programme… there are profiles on the ships and the various different aircraft. She finds the page for the fighter jets and sure enough, there's a list of the pilots taking part in the flyover. She scans the names: John 'Ace' Matthews, Mark 'Tex' Nicolas, Warwick 'Skip' Thompson and…
Her eyes widen and she gasps when she sees the fourth name. "Holy shit."
"What? What is it?"
"Why didn't he say anything?" Sarah mutters, her eyes drawn to the name printed on the page: Logan 'Mouth' Echolls.
Logan Echolls, as in the son of Hollywood star and accused murderer, Aaron Echolls, is a pilot in the Navy? How could she not have recognised him? After all, she's seen him in enough magazine spreads over the years. Maybe because it's been ages since he was in the limelight; he looked different then… and O'Lunney's was the last place you ever expected to meet him.
"Say anything about what?"
She looks over at Veronica. "The pilot from last night…it was Logan Echolls."
"What?!"
Veronica's heart stutters, feeling the heat draining from her face. No way she heard that correctly. Logan, a pilot in the Navy? No fucking way.
"Lemme see that." She grabs the programme from Sarah's hand and with shaking fingers she scrolls down over the words on the page. Sure enough, there it is: Logan 'Mouth' Echolls. "That can't be right."
"Oh my God. I made out with Logan Echolls."
Sarah's hand comes to her mouth and Veronica can only stare at her in wide-eyed disbelief.
"I mean, he looked kind of familiar, I just didn't…" She shakes her head. "Wow, I mean, he did say he was from Southern California, and that he spent time in New York for his dad's work, but it even didn't occur to me…"
Veronica can't move. She's in shock; she can't get her head around it. Logan's here, in New York, and he's about to fly a plane right overhead?
"Veronica? Are you okay?" says Sarah worriedly. "What's—?"
She doesn't get any further, her voice drowned out by the roaring of airplane engines as four black dots appear in the sky. Veronica can only watch in both shock and confusion as the dots quickly increase in size until they form actual shapes: fighter jets. They're in a lopsided 'V' formation, just as Sarah described. She focuses on the middle jet on the left side of the 'V', the one that he's supposed to be flying.
God, Logan is flying that plane? It just doesn't make sense. Her eyes remain fixed on it, following the movement as it breaks away from the formation, climbing vertically upwards into the sky, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake.
It's impressive, she has to admit, even though it's kind of freaking her out at the same time.
"And that was the Missing Man formation, flown by the naval aviators of the VFA-154 Black Knights, in F/A-18F two-seater fighter aircraft," comes a voice over the PA system as the noise of the jets starts to fade, the aircraft disappearing into the distance.
Neither Sarah nor Veronica speak for a long moment after the flyover finishes, Veronica still staring up at the sky, searching for that plane, searching for him.
"Hey." She feels a hand on her arm. "You okay? What's going on, Vee?"
"That—" She swallows, trying to find her voice. "That was Logan Echolls?"
"Yeah, I guess it was."
She shakes her head. "I didn't… God, how did I not know…?"
"Did any of us know?" Sarah sounds confused. "He hasn't exactly been in the tabloids lately."
"But I should have known…" She frowns. She can't get her head around this.
"Okay, do you have like, a celebrity crush or something?"
"What?" Veronica turns to look at Sarah, her head spinning. "No, I mean… it's not like that. No."
"Oh, you so do." Sarah grins wickedly. "Look, he told me he was gonna come back here after the flyover, if I wanted to say hi. He'll be here in about an hour."
"H-he's gonna be here?" She can barely get the words out. "In an hour?"
"Yep." Her roommate nods brightly. "I think we should definitely go say hi."
Oh God.
Logan's here, he's in the Navy, and she's going to see him, in person, in about an hour. This is crazy.
And uh… oh yeah, he almost hooked up with my roommate last night. That's not going to be awkward at all.
Logan can't keep the grin off his face as he strolls along Pier 86. He's in a great mood; he spent last night in the company of a great-looking girl, he's still on an adrenaline high from flying his jet over New York City, and now he has a few hours free to relax in the sun before he has to be back on the carrier.
Walking around the static Concorde, Logan reaches the corner of the pier and settles against the railings, his back resting against the metal, elbows propped up on the top rung, gaze scanning the crowd.
Despite what he said to the girl from last night about maybe seeing her today, he's not really expecting her to show. After all, they barely know each other, having only exchanged a couple of conversations and a heated make-out session. She was fun to spend time with, but it's not like it was ever going to be more than a one-night thing anyway. Right now, he's just content to sit back and enjoy the Fleet Week atmosphere. It's his first one—New York Fleet Week had been cancelled last year, due to budget cuts or some shit, and the year before he was only a few months into flight school—so he's making the most of it now.
He's still clad in his green flight suit and people are noticing him, some approaching to ask for photos or even just to chat. He doesn't mind really, though he's glad they don't seem to have figured out who he is yet. He knows he's listed in the programme, but at least it's just his name and not a picture. He's hoping not too many people look closely enough to see it.
He lifts his hand, glances at his watch. It's been well over an hour since the flyover, fifteen minutes since he got here. He'll give it another five minutes.
"Uh, excuse me?"
He looks up to find a woman standing to his left, a young boy holding her hand.
"Hi." He pastes on his 'work' smile, the one he reserves for press and publicity.
"My son just loves the planes," she says. "He wants to be a pilot when he grows up, don't you, sweetie?" The boy just stares up at him wide-eyed, clutching a toy plane to his chest. "Would you mind taking a photo with him?"
"Sure." Logan smiles easily. "What's his name?"
"Dylan."
Logan nods, crouching down so he's at eye level with the blond-haired kid. "Hi Dylan. My name is Logan. I'm a pilot."
Dylan studies him for a moment, before saying timidly, "Hi."
"Your mom says you want to be a pilot when you grow up too?"
The boy nods, his fingers tightening around the toy plane. "I want to fly."
"Well, I think you'll make a great pilot someday." Logan shoots him a grin. "You want to take a picture with me?"
The kid nods shyly. He can't be more than three or four years old.
"Okay then." He looks up to the boy's mom. "Is it okay if I pick him up?"
"Sure." She nods easily.
Logan stands, hoisting Dylan into his arms and posing with him as the kid's mother whips out her camera and snaps a couple of pictures. He's still holding the boy when he spots a familiar-looking dark head of hair a couple of hundred feet away. Sarah, he realises; and she has a friend with her, a short, blonde girl, trailing slightly behind, head bowed as she fumbles in her bag for something.
"There we go," he says, placing the now-grinning boy back down on the ground. "It was lovely to meet you, Dylan."
"Thank you, Logan." The mom gives him a grateful smile as he straightens up. "I think you've just made his day. And thank you for your service."
He just smiles and gives a quick nod. He still hasn't gotten used to people thinking of him as some kind of national hero. He knows he's anything but.
"Enjoy the rest of your day."
The woman and her son walk away down the pier just as Sarah and her friend approach from his right.
"Hey," he greets with a smile, keeping his tone light.
"Hi, again, Mouth." She comes to a stop a couple of feet away. "Or, uh, is it Logan?"
He cringes. She knows. "You saw the programme, huh?"
Her eyebrow twitches upward as she shrugs in agreement. "It was hard not to miss the name next to your call-sign."
"Yeah, guess not."
"So, uh, I'd like you to meet my roommate." She nods to the girl standing slightly behind her and Logan's attention finally turns to the blonde. "This is—"
His heart stops when she lifts her head, her name falling from his lips in a rush of air. "Veronica…"
She looks up at him sheepishly, her achingly familiar blue eyes locking with his. "Hey, Logan."
Logan's staring, he knows, his mouth opening and closing mindlessly in an attempt to form some kind of intelligent response. But he can't, because Veronica Mars is standing in front of him. In the flesh. For the first time in seven years. And fuck, does she look amazing.
"What…?" he manages a moment later, mouth suddenly dry. "What are you…? I mean…"
"I live here now," she says softly. God, even her voice has gotten sexier. "I'm in law school. Columbia."
"Oh," is all he can say. Law school? What happened to the FBI… or Private Investigating?
He can't even get his head around it, his thoughts still firmly stuck on 'Veronica Mars is standing in front of me'.
"And you're in the Navy," she's saying. "A pilot. I mean, that's just…"
"Not what you were expecting?" he says, shaking himself out of his stupor and managing a small, wry grin.
"No, that's not what…" She shrugs sheepishly. "Uh, well, yeah."
Their eyes lock and for a second, it's like he's right back there again, back in Neptune, back with her.
"Hang on." Sarah steps between them, looking confused. "You two know each other?"
Veronica averts her gaze first, turning to the brunette. "Uh, yeah, we went to high school together."
"Well, we met in junior high," Logan clarifies, if only to get a reaction. "At one of your soccer games, if I recall."
Her smile tightens. "Yeah, junior high."
"Wow, some coincidence, huh?" Sarah turns to him.
"Yeah." His reply is soft, his attention still focused on Veronica. "It is."
He's drinking her in; he can't help himself as his eyes roam unapologetically over her features. She's still as gorgeous as ever, more so even. She's filled out a little since she left Neptune, the wider curve of her hip and slightly fuller bust only accentuated by the navy blue dress she's wearing—Veronica, in a dress, voluntarily, who would have thought it? Her blonde hair is still long and wavy, framing her face, but it's her eyes that are drawing him in, still that same piercing blue that never failed to capture his attention.
The shout of an excited child somewhere to his left pulls him out of his reverie and he blinks, realising he's staring.
"So, uh, that was you, in the flyover earlier." Veronica's studying him with an intensity he's not entirely comfortable with. "Sarah found your name in the programme, said you were the plane in the middle, the one that went…" She makes a sweeping upward gesture with her hand.
"Yeah." He shrugs, hooking his fingers into the material of his flight suit. He feels awkward, shy, unsure of himself…it's like he's back in high school or something. "That was me."
Her expression is unreadable for a moment, before she breaks out into a wide grin. "It was pretty cool."
"Yeah?" He can't help but smile too.
"Yeah." She nods, her eyes locking with his for a moment, before she says, "So, uh, what—?"
"Mouth, there you are." A hand claps on his shoulder and he tears his eyes from Veronica's to see Ace standing beside him. "We gotta go, they're rounding us up for publicity shots."
"Really?" He grimaces. He hates the publicity shots; they remind him too much of having to play the dutiful son in his father's 'wholesome' family photo shoots when he was a kid. "Thought we weren't needed for that?"
"Apparently they changed their minds." Ace glances toward the two girls. "Excuse me, ladies, I have to borrow him for a while."
"Sorry." Logan gives an apologetic shrugs. "Duty calls."
Ace looks closer at the brunette standing beside him. "Oh, hey, it's Sarah, right? Emily's friend?"
Sarah's eyes flick to Logan for a moment before she answers. "Yeah, that's me."
His squadron mate's attention focuses on Veronica then, taking a step closer and holding out his hand. "I don't think we've met. I'm Lt. John Matthews."
"Nice to meet you, Lt. Matthews." Veronica shakes his hand. "I'm Veronica."
"Veronica, huh?" Ace glances at him knowingly and Logan just lifts his eyebrows in response, confirming Ace's suspicions. "Lovely to meet you."
He releases her hand and starts backing away, pointing at Logan as he does so.
"Mouth, you got five minutes."
"Okay, just a sec." He turns back toward Veronica. "Look, I'm sorry, I have to go. But I'm in town until tomorrow; maybe we could get a drink later, catch up? I should be done here in a couple of hours."
Veronica looks a little taken aback, but she recovers quickly and nods, giving a hesitant smile. "Oh, uh…yeah, okay."
"Let me give you my number."
He doesn't have his phone on him—it's sitting safely in a locker across the pier, along with his summer whites—but Logan pulls a pen and a scrap of paper from his upper arm pocket and scribbles his number down, handing it to her. She pulls out her phone and starts scrolling through it. After a moment, she frowns at the screen, then glances up at him again.
"You still have the same number?"
A smirk tugs at his lips and he counters with, "You still have said number saved in your phone?"
Her eyes widen, her cheeks flushing. "Oh… I wasn't like, deliberately keeping it or anything," she rushes to explain. "It got transferred over with my old contacts, and I haven't gotten around to going through them yet."
Not in seven years? He grins now. Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, Veronica.
She gestures for the pen and he hands it to her, watching as she adds her number to the piece of paper, before giving both back to him.
"Thanks." Logan turns over the paper in his hand, looking down at the digits written on it. Unlike him, she has changed her number. "I'll call you when I'm finished here."
"Okay."
"See you later, Veronica." He gives her a nod, then turns to the brunette, who has been woefully forgotten in the shock of seeing Veronica. "Sarah, nice to see you again."
"You too, Mouth."
Veronica stares after Logan in shock as he strides away. Seeing him again after so long, especially here in New York, is the last thing she ever expected and she still can't believe it just happened.
Holy fuck, he's in the Navy now… and he flies fighter jets. How did I not know this?
Okay, sure, she doesn't talk to Mac or Wallace as often as she used to, and her father tends to avoid any Echolls-related conversation if he can, but she should at least have known about something this big, this life-changing, happening to him, right?
Her eyes are still focused on his retreating back, unable to look away. He's so different now; he carries himself with a confidence she's never seen in him before. He seems calmer somehow, mature… and shit, he looks great. His hair is shorter than she's ever seen it—it must be military regulation—and fuck, does he fill out that flight suit well… those broad shoulders and strong forearms, not to mention that tight ass… she doesn't even want to think about what he might look like underneath the suit.
"Well, that was… interesting." Sarah's voice brings Veronica out of her daze. "And just a little awkward."
"Yeah…"
"How did I not know that you went to high school with Logan Echolls?"
Veronica turns back to her roommate, catching the knowing expression on Sarah's face.
"I don't really like to talk about high school much." She shrugs, starting to walk along the pier. "Not the best chapter of my life."
Sarah frowns, studying her thoughtfully, and Veronica resists the urge to flinch under her gaze. She's relieved when Sarah doesn't press for details, really not wanting to rehash the whole sordid story of her high school years right now.
Instead, Sarah changes tack, albeit only slightly. "So, you and Logan… there's more to it than just going to high school together, right?"
Veronica winces, knowing she can't avoid it forever. "We used to date."
"Seriously?"
"We were on and off for a couple of years," she admits reluctantly. "It didn't end well. I haven't seen him since before I transferred to Stanford."
"I'm sorry," Sarah says, sympathy evident in her tone.
Veronica shrugs. "Yeah, well, it was for the best. We didn't exactly have the healthiest relationship."
Sarah winces. "I hope I didn't make things worse just now."
"No, it's okay." She shakes her head. "I've always wondered what it would be like to see him again. Now I know. Didn't expect this particular career choice though."
"Me either. Which is probably why I didn't realise it was him; and it's not like I even knew his real name." Sarah sucks in a sharp breath. "God, Veronica, I almost slept with him last night. I'm so sorry."
Veronica suppresses the irrational spike of jealousy she feels and forces a smile instead.
"You don't need to apologise. It's not like I have any claim on him anymore." She shrugs. "You didn't even know who he was."
"Okay, thanks." Sarah looks a little uncomfortable nonetheless. "So, you gonna see him later?"
"It's probably a really bad idea," she hedges. "And I really should be studying…"
"But you can't stay away, right?"
She looks over at her roommate in resignation. "No, I don't think I can."
Logan removes his Navy cap, tucking it under his arm as his eyes nervously roam the interior of the Landmark Tavern, a quaint Irish Pub a couple of blocks from Pier 86. He leans an elbow against the bar, watching for any sign of Veronica. It's only just after 17:00, so it's not like she's late yet, but he can't help feeling anxious all the same.
Veronica Mars is the last person he ever expected to run into during Fleet Week in New York City—he had no idea she was even living on the east coast, let alone would be watching the flyover today. The last he heard, she was still in California, studying at Stanford. Somehow, though, it kind of seems like fate that she's here.
He's still debating the wisdom of his suggestion to meet up, but seeing her again and having the chance to spend some time with her, if only for a few hours, was too much of a temptation. After all, it's been seven years; he's certainly changed—grown up—in that time, and he's sure she must have too.
Logan is just considering ordering a drink while he waits when the door opens and she comes breezing through, looking slightly flustered. She smiles, spotting him at the bar and he doesn't miss the way her eyes rake over him as she makes her way over.
"Hey, Logan," she says in greeting, resting her bag on the bar stool beside her. She's still wearing that blue, flowing summer dress, and he has to admit, it really does look great on her."Sorry, I got caught up at the library."
"Library?"
"Oh, uh, yeah—finals start tomorrow and I had to get some last-minute studying in," she explains quickly. "There wasn't time to go home, so Sarah let me use her ID to get into the NYU library."
"Right, you're in law school now." He can't say he expected that one. Veronica Mars, lawyer… it just doesn't quite fit the girl he used to know.
"Yeah." She nods. "Just finishing up second year. One more to go, then the bar exam, and I'll be a full-fledged lawyer."
"Wow."
"Not what you were expecting, huh?" she repeats his words from earlier.
He grins. "Not in the slightest."
She looks down for a moment, fiddling with the zipper on her bag. "Yeah, well, I needed a change."
"Right." He straightens, sensing that the conversation is gonna go downhill quickly if it continues in this vein. "Uh, you wanna grab something to eat? I'm starving."
"Sure, okay." She glances over toward the dining area across the room, before turning back to him with a smile. "I guess you can't really eat much before flying? Don't wanna be throwing up in the cockpit."
"Actually, no, just the opposite," he says. "We need the added energy for the flight. Just haven't eaten anything since then, that's all." He spots a waiter walking towards them and signals him over. "Table for two, please?"
"Of course." The waiter—a slim guy who can't be more than 21—nods, leading them over to a small table in the corner of the restaurant area, by the window. The man hands them a couple of menus. "Can I get you anything to drink?"
"Veronica?" He defers to her.
"Just a water for me, thanks." She smiles at the waiter, then looks to Logan. "Can't be taking a final with a hangover."
"Water for me, too," says Logan, a little relieved she hasn't ordered alcohol. He doesn't really want to have to explain why he's not drinking.
"I'll be right back with those for you." The waiter nods, then just before he leaves the table, he turns to Logan and adds, "And thank you for your service, sir."
"Oh, uh, thanks." Logan nods awkwardly, noticing Veronica watching him with a slightly bemused smile.
"Do people say that to you often?" she asks.
"Sometimes." He shrugs. "Don't hear it much usually, but it's Fleet Week, so…"
She shakes her head, expression turning to one of amusement.
"What?"
"I just can't get over the fact that you're in the military now," she says. "It's… surreal."
"Yeah, well…" He shrugs uncomfortably.
"It looks good on you, though," she admits. "You look good, Logan."
He doesn't miss a beat. "So do you, Veronica."
She looks down at her menu, a small smile on her face. The waiter returns with the drinks a couple of minutes later and takes their order.
"So, how long have you been in the Navy?"
"Almost three years," he tells her. "Earned my wings last October, then got shipped out on a six-month deployment a few weeks later. Just got back, actually… New York is our last stop before heading home."
"Wow." She blinks. "So, where's home now?"
"I'm kind of between places right now," he tells her. "Before I shipped out, I was living in Southern Texas for Advanced Flight School. Now that we're back, I'll be stationed at NAS Lemoore up near Fresno."
She gives a small chuckle. "Not sure I can imagine you living in Texas." She makes a face. "Or Fresno, for that matter."
"Texas was an adjustment, that's for sure," he says. "I'll say this: I'll never complain about SoCal weather again." He purses his lips. "I'm withholding judgement on Fresno for the moment, for the sake of my sanity."
"Yeah, didn't know how good I had it either until I had to live through two New York winters."
"Exactly."
She fiddles with the straw in her glass of water, poking gently at the slice of lemon floating near the top.
"You've been deployed the last few months?" He nods. "Whereabouts?"
"Persian Gulf, mostly," he says, taking a sip of water. "Flew missions over Afghanistan."
"Seriously?" She stiffens, her eyes widening. "And by 'missions' you mean…?"
"Mostly it was running surveillance, identifying the enemy, that kind of thing," he says. "But I had to launch air strikes against insurgents a few times."
Veronica looks a little shell-shocked. "Wow, that's… shit, I mean, you're a fighter pilot, Logan."
"Yeah." He gives a self-conscious shrug, reaching for a sugar packet and turning it over it in his fingers. "That's what it says in the job description."
"I mean, I know; I saw it myself this afternoon." She brings a hand to her mouth, looking a little queasy. "It just hasn't really sunk in yet."
"It's not that dangerous, really." He tries to assure her. "Not in the grand scheme of things. Air operations are much safer than ground ops."
Veronica just nods, fingers pressed to her lips.
Logan's not really sure what to say next, and is contemplating coming up with some kind of witty quip to ease the tension, but then the waiter reappears with their food, saving him the trouble. He thanks the man as Veronica digs into her pasta, and they eat in silence for a few moments. When he can't stand it any longer, Logan breaks the silence with a question that's been on his mind since she mentioned her finals.
"So, last I heard, you were at Stanford. How did you get from there to Columbia Law?" He prods at the mashed potatoes on his plate with his fork. "I mean, I always thought you'd end up in the FBI or something."
"Yeah, me too, for a while anyway," she admits. "But that internship I did wasn't all it was cracked up to be and I had a change of heart when I was at Stanford. Ended up majoring in psychology, actually. When I got to senior year and was considering my career options, law seemed like a good opportunity."
He nods, though he's not entirely sure he understands the logic of the decision. "What kind of law do you plan to practice? I could totally see you as a criminal prosecutor."
"I don't know about that." She wrinkles her nose. "I was thinking maybe Corporate Law."
"Really?" He's surprised.
Granted, he doesn't know a whole lot about the different branches of law, but anything with the word 'corporate' in it sounds pretty boring to him… and not Veronica's kind of thing at all.
"Yeah." She prickles. "Why, what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing." He shakes his head. Seems I've hit a nerve. "It's just not really what I pictured you doing, that's all."
Veronica shrugs. "Yeah, well, it's been seven years. People change."
She looks down, begins twirling spaghetti around her fork, avoiding his gaze.
"Yeah," he says softly, still watching her. "They do."
"Well, I'm stuffed." Veronica lets her fork drop onto the empty dessert plate before her.
Across from her, Logan smirks. "Well, if you insist on ordering such a large portion of cheesecake after all that spaghetti…"
She shoots him a playful glare. The awkward tension from earlier has dissipated and they've settled into easy, snappy conversation. It's almost like old times.
"Well, you shouldn't have offered to pay for it then," she says. "I'm a poor, struggling student, remember? I never get to eat in places like this anymore. I'm making the most of it."
"Seriously, this place? It's not even expensive, Veronica." He seems confused and Veronica's lips twitch in amusement.
Ah, the joys of being a millionaire.
"Maybe not for you, rich boy," she retorts quickly, though there's no malice or bitterness in her tone. "But the cost of this meal? It's almost a week's worth of food for me."
"Oh." Logan's eyebrows twitch upwards in surprise. "Sorry. I didn't realise."
"So, thank you, for covering the bill."
"No problem."
She feels a small flutter in her chest in response to the smile he gives her. It's a feeling so familiar, yet so… not… that it throws her for a moment, and she looks away quickly.
"So, now that you've devoured all of that cheesecake." He nods toward her empty plate. "What do you say we blow this popsicle stand?"
"Sure." She nods.
Logan signals for the bill, pulling out his credit card when the waiter promptly appears beside their table. He signs for it and Veronica reaches for her bag, standing up. Logan adjusts his cap back onto his head, then walks her out, ever the gentlemen. When they step out onto the sidewalk, he stops, turning to face her. The sun is just beginning to set, and it casts an orange glow across his features. He looks older now, having lost the baby fat, his cheek bones much more prominent than they used to be.
"So…" He stands before her, looking a little uneasy.
Veronica adjusts the bag on her shoulder. "So…"
She keeps her tone light, but inside, the apprehension is building. It's like that awkward part of a first date where you're not sure exactly what the other person's intentions are, so you're both fumbling around each other.
"Well, uh…" He reaches up, rubbing the back of his neck. Veronica suppresses a smile—it's a nervous gesture of his, one she remembers well. "I still have a couple of hours free, if you maybe wanted to, I dunno, take a walk or something..."
"Well, I really should get home. I still have studying to do…" she hedges. His expression falls slightly, though he tries to hide it, and she caves. "But, I guess a quick walk couldn't hurt."
"Okay, then." He grins. "Along the Pier?"
"Sure."
They walk in companionable silence, Veronica relaxing a little more with every step. As weirdly surreal as it is to be walking the streets of New York with Logan after all these years—grown-up, military officer Logan, no less—it's also strangely comfortable too. They reach the pier, making casual small talk as they walk past the static aircraft and stalls. Logan asks about her father, and about Wallace and Mac, then inquires about her classes and her life here in New York. In return, she's curious to know about being in the Navy and what it's like to fly a plane. She has to admit that his life now seems pretty fucking impressive.
When they reach the end of the pier, Logan stops, leaning against the railings. She joins him, resting her forearms on the cool metal and looking out over the water.
"So," she says, looking over at him. "Officer Echolls… actually, is it Officer? What is your rank, or title, or whatever it's called?"
"Rank," he clarifies with a smile. "And officially, it's Lieutenant Junior Grade Logan Echolls."
"Well, that's something of a mouthful." And also kind of hot.
"Yeah, usually it just gets shortened to Lieutenant JG, or even just JG."
"So what does, uh, Lieutenant JG mean in the grand scheme of things?"
"Well," he turns sideways to face her, propping an elbow on the railing and crossing one ankle over the other. "After initial training, you start off as an Ensign. Then after two years, you get promoted to Lieutenant JG, and two years after that, it's Lieutenant. I have about another 15 months until I can qualify for promotion to Lieutenant."
"And after that?"
"Lieutenant Commander, then Commander, followed by Captain," he says. "Though those take a lot longer to reach—to get all the way from Ensign to Captain, it's about 22 years." He waves his hand in the air, a gesture so Logan that she feels an all-too-familiar tug in her chest. "After that, you start getting right up into the Admirals."
"Sounds complicated."
Logan shrugs. "Yeah, at first… but you get to know them pretty quickly… especially when they're barking orders at you and expecting you to know them by heart."
Veronica smiles, then turns her attention back to the water, watching it lap against the pier, as she clasps her hands together, forearms still resting on the railing. It's a warm evening, but the wind has picked up a little, catching her hair and lifting it back off her face. Her eyes slide closed and she revels in the feel of the cool breeze against her skin. She opens them when she senses Logan watching her, and turns her head towards him. Sure enough, he's studying her intently.
"What?" she asks softly, straightening up and turning towards him.
"Nothing." He shakes his head, lips quirking up slightly at the corners. "I was just thinking how beautiful you look."
"Logan…" she starts hesitantly, wary of where this is going.
"It's been seven years since I last saw you," he continues, as if she hasn't spoken. "And it seems my memories just don't do you justice."
See, when he goes and says things like that, it makes me fall for him all over again…
"Veronica…" he murmurs, stepping closer, closing the gap between them. His hand comes up to cup her face, fingers gently running along her jaw, pad of his thumb stroking her cheek.
"Logan, I don't—"
His mouth cuts her off, lips brushing against hers in a caress so soft, she wonders if maybe she's imagining it. She's not though; he's right here, so close that the scent of his aftershave is invading her senses, and he's kissing her, and it's so achingly familiar, and sweet and tender, that she is helpless to resist.
She lets herself sink into it, kissing him back, bringing her hands up to his arms, fingers clutching his biceps for support, and… oh, God, he's totally been working out. His tongue is sliding teasingly along her lips, not demanding anything, but letting her make the decision. Oh, fuck it, I've come this far. She parts her lips, letting him in, letting herself feel everything she's been missing for all these years.
When breathing becomes an issue and they break apart, Logan's fingers run down the side of her face in such a familiar gesture that it makes her chest ache. He's smiling, his forehead resting gently against hers, dark eyes fixed on her.
"—think that's such a good idea," she finishes breathlessly.
"Sorry," he murmurs a moment later. "I didn't mean to overstep. I just…"
"Couldn't help it?" she finishes. "Yeah, me either."
He chuckles throatily, then kisses her once more, a simple brush of lips this time, before drawing away. Veronica lets her head drop to his chest, not willing to let go just yet. Her eyes roam over his white uniform shirt and a small laugh escapes her lips as a long-forgotten memory comes to mind.
"What is it?" Logan asks.
"Just a memory." She lifts her head to look at him and his eyebrow rises expectantly, waiting for her to continue. "There was this time at the beginning of sophomore year, when Lilly and I went to San Diego for Fleet Week… we wanted to meet some hot sailors."
"Oh?"
"Well, we didn't actually get to meet any, as such, but we certainly got to watch them from afar," she admits. "I never said anything at the time, but it was a secret fantasy of mine to get swept off my feet by a handsome Navy officer during Fleet Week."
"Really?" He looks intrigued now, an indulgent smile tugging at his lips as he steps back. Her arms fall to her sides. "Well, look no further, Veronica Mars…. Lt. JG Echolls at your service." He lifts his fingers to his temple in a formal salute. "I'm here to sweep you off your feet."
Before she has time to react, he's bending down, one arm beneath her knees and the other coming around her back as he sweeps her up off the ground and into his arms. She has to react quickly, clasping her arms around his neck so she doesn't fall.
"How am I doing so far?" he asks grinning down at her.
"Perfect," she replies, then gasps, slipping in a fake swoon. "I'm finally living my lifelong 'Officer and a Gentlemen' dream."
"Glad I could be of assistance." He looks down at her for a moment, before frowning slightly. "Wait, something's missing."
Veronica tightens her arms around his neck as he carefully slides his hand from her back and reaches for his cap, lifting it from his head and placing it on hers instead.
"There we go."
She gives a wide smile, even as the hat threatens to slip down over her eyes.
"It suits you." He grins.
"Of course it does." She laughs softly. "Thank you, Lieutenant Junior Grade Echolls."
"Pleasure's all mine, Ms. Mars."
End