A/n: I swear I started writing one thing and it turned into something totally different.

Their relationship has almost always consisted of tears- be it hers, his, or theirs. Tears that have persisted for over a decade now. Tears that streak across her face even though she's no longer sixteen and mad at a messed up world. Tears that she has learned to sleep through hoping the next day will magically make it all better.

It isn't the dip in the mattress that gives him away and it most definitely isn't the fact that he wasn't quiet enough. Rather, it's the blanket of warmth that envelops her when he slips into the sheets behind her. Logan has a lot of making up to do, and Veronica wants to be mad at him. But it's hard. More so when he molds his body to hers like so.

She snuggles her ass into the crook between his legs, her knees coming up so she can arch into him and his arm tightens around her.

Veronica sighs involuntarily. She has missed this- the warmth, the presence of another body so intimately pressed up against her that she can feel everything. Including the way his breath hitches when she sways her hips. And just for that moment she can forget her tears.

It's been a long day- she has been out chasing bail jumpers, errant housewives, cheating husbands, and even a lost puppy. The PI world isn't all paperwork and waiting, it can include some running. Some huffing. A lot of puffing.

So it's no wonder that she doesn't just want to open her eyes yet.


Her lips curl in her sleep as she imagines his boyish face, the hard edges of his body a stark contrast to that guileless smile. She hums in pleasure rocking back into him. It feels so good that she can't stop herself from repeating the same motion. Her spine curves to accommodate her intent and soon she can feel him hardening through the soft fabric of his pajamas.

Yes, pajamas. Somehow, somewhere Logan in flannel pajamas has become a staple part of her dreams and reality. He still is missing a shirt because she likes her men topless and he likes her; he probably wouldn't bat an eyelid if she asked him to cut his heart out.

Unbidden emotion threatens to rise up and she quells it down choosing instead to revel in the security his arms bring. Eyes still closed, Veronica grazes her teeth over one bicep while grinding back on his crotch. She briefly wonders if he's enjoying it when his palm tightens on her ribs and a drawn out breath near her ear provides her with an answer.

His hand is suddenly everywhere. With one arm trapped beneath her body, the other tries to overcompensate, ghosting over her until he reaches the edge of her sleep shirt. His palm cups her intimately and her back bows as she shudders. "Logan," she manages to whisper.

He's not talking because they're still at an impasse. His hand moves up slowly, fingers tracing light patterns onto burning skin while the other reaches around her to play with her breasts. His fingers torture her, alternating between pulling at sensitive nipples and the other snapping and grazing at the waistband of her underwear.

"Stop."

He's not in the mood to be pushed over so he persists. His fingers glide across the satiny insides of her thighs teasing the skin there knowing full well what she wants.

"Logan!" She screams, because her vocabulary is non-existent in such situations. She only has ahhs, oohs, Logans and fucks in her head as he Her hips cant and she wants more, needs more, but isn't ready to give up without a fight.

And so with great restraint, she manages to turn around in his arms. Though initially reluctant, Logan lets out a resigned groan when she resituates herself grinding lightly onto his erection. It's his turn to let out gasps of pleasure, the hard line of his cock jutting out and into the space between her legs. Her arousal dampens her panties, seeping through the thin cotton to invade his pajamas.

Veronica desperately wishes they slept naked. It would have been easy for him to slip into her, and her insides clench at the thought. She grinds harder against Logan wanting him to let her know that this is affecting him just as much as it is her.

Blindly her lips reach for his. Their mouths fuse, and she licks her way inside for a few moments of cherished victory before he turns the tables on her. It's him being aggressive, and his kisses become sloppy and wet. It doesn't matter. She reaches up to wind an arm around his neck as she pulls him closer wanting to inhale as much of him as possible.

Their movements turn more desperate. Her hips stutter out of rhythm and his hands move to hold her hips in place as he thrusts against her body. She wants him to take control, to move their clothing out of the way so they can fuck like they're meant to.

But he never does.

As though this is a game.

Annoyed, Veronica squeezes his ass, in an effort to get as close as possible. She squirms enthusiastically, her head falling back to showcase the long line of her neck. He takes what she offers, licking a line down her throat before stopping to lave at her clavicle.

Her breathing turns choppy. They're not teenagers, even if they are dry humping each other. This might have sufficed were they 13, maybe even in high school but not now. She's spent so much of her time away from him that she deserves this.

"Please," she begs. It's not fair that she needs so much more.

But he's adamant, allowing her to rub against him, the friction nowhere near what she really needs. "Please," she begs again, and he relents, his hands sliding under her shirt, and into her panties. He thumbs at her clit, strumming her while sucking that spot beneath her neck and she shatters in his arms.


The sun filters through the blinds, flashes of light hitting her eyes and waking her up. She wakes up with a smile on her face, the previous night's tears almost forgotten. Her hands reach for the warmth beside her and she feels nothing but sheets.

Her eyes pop open and the tears resume as she finally remembers.

Fifty-four days to go.