A/N: My first Veronica Mars fic. Course, with my discovering Veronica only a few years after its cancellation, I should resign myself to an audience of moi.
Oh well. Logan makes me happy.
Summary: Logan watches Keith and Veronica. Spoilers for Charlie Don't Surf. Drabble.
"Tastes Like Envy"
It's like watching a tennis match. She serves up a paranoid question, which he counters with a pointed snark, and she volleys back some adorable spunk . . . quick words and no edges, no desire to shred skin, draw blood. It's like watching a sitcom.
It's not like anything he knows.
He finds that he's less amused than enchanted with their relationship. He wonders what it'd be like, a home like this. No cameras. No belts.
Logan has to put down his fork, pretends he's already full. He can't eat another bite.
The envy tastes like choked down pears.