Whoopsy Daisy

A/N: This is a short fluffy one-shot of LoVe, one of my favorite couples. I was inspired by a prompt I saw on tumblr, as I try to ease back into writing fanfiction and writing in general. Please leave reviews, critique, comments, etc. It's all greatly appreciated and may even inspire me to write more LoVe fics, I'd like to do some multi-chaptered ones in the future!


A handsome face hidden behind a small forest of stark white lilies, he thinks he's being cute and clever as a fist reaches out to knock on the door behind which his girlfriend lives. Veronica answers swiftly with a hum of expectation, chest heaved before she deflates and smiles. "Are those for little ol' me?" She asks with a modified, partially sarcastic, exuberance, placing a hand over her chest for dramatic flair.

Logan drops the flowers down by his side and extends them to the petite blonde, boyish grin in tow. "Actually I was hoping to impress your father but…I guess you can have them."

"Why, Mr. Echolls, did you go through my neighbor's garden and pluck these out of the ground, all in hopes of getting my hand? I do declare that is ever so romantic, I may just wilt with fancy." Dainty hand drapes across her forehead, accompanied by a faux and over-the-top Southern bell drawl before she gratefully accepts the bouquet and a kiss on the forehead from the male.

"No I used this thing called money? I know you're used to good old-fashioned bartering, but the times have changed Veronica, catch up." Closing the door behind the stocky figure of her boyfriend, the blonde swiveled on her heels to face him, a coyness in her glittering green eyes. "Don't tell me you've become one of those fancy, playboy, type men who thinks the way to a women's heart is through oodles and oodles of money." Putting the flowers on a table in the kitchen she finds a vase before popping up once again over the bar top, where Logan has taken a seat in one of the stools. A spry finger goes to her lips, she mimes contemplation, "Oh…wait."

Logan rolls his autumn-colored, eyes and snatches her hand, pulling it away from her face affably, "Okay, Daisy Buchanan." His tone is teasing of course and Veronica does as he says. Taking her time to fill one of the lone vases she'd found tucked under the cabinet with cool water before putting the stems of the lilies in it. Her trip to the living room to find a suitable place for the floral arrangement, was stymied by a lingering kiss, he tasted like spice and promises.

"Whatever you say, Gatsby."

Nose crinkling delicately, her body warms, and she represses the urge to fold against him right then and there. Curse him for his devilish good looks and debonair smile. Once the flowers were set on a table, Veronica bowed her face into the lush leaves and silky petals, relishing in the glorious scent. She'd always loved lilies. Maybe it was just a fond reminder of her old best friend that had drawn her to the flower, but their sweet, almost musky scent prompted an old memory. Like a blissful summer day when her parents had still been together, a picturesque image she wasn't sure ever existed, of the three of them together, in streaming sunlight, bleached flaxen hair tickling her cheek in a balmy breeze. Lost in her silent reverie for a moment, she suddenly felt the presence of Logan behind her. Warm and brawny arms had wrapped around her midriff, molding their outlines flush to one another. His breath fanned across the shell of her ear and Veronica fell back against him with a pleased sigh. Both of them just stared at the lilies for a long moment, quiet and yet silently communicating.

Do you still think about her?
Every day.

She squeezed his hand, finding comfort in how his hand dwarfed hers by comparison. Lithe body slid with ease beneath his arms until she was facing him, fingers intertwining behind his neck and craning to mend their lips together. Tingling with appeasement, her fingers grifted across Logan's jawline, admiring the fine chiseled aperture of his face. He smiled into the kiss, forever content to hold Veronica in his arms with no end in sight.

"Now I see why men are so obsessed with buying flowers for their girlfriends."

"What can I say Logan? I've got a green tongue."

The jest earned her a beaming grin from her boyfriend and the two resumed their lip-lock with increased gusto. Using a sturdy arm, Logan looped it around her waist, ghosting across her perky rear, and the other hand tugged placidly at her crown of golden tendrils. Veronica responded with an agile tilt of her head, giving his neck attention in equal measure, smothering kisses along the column of his throat, a murmured sigh buried into the crook of his collar.

Then, quite suddenly, she stopped.

An odd burning itchy sensation seemed to creep up from the back of her own throat. Logan didn't notice that she'd paused yet, instead entertaining himself with the reaction he'd been receiving from letting his lips and tongue dance across the dip in her shoulder. Her eyes watered and Veronica pushed him away slowly, turning to the side to try and understand what was happening. Her skin felt inflamed, like she was inside the unyielding boundaries of an inferno. "Lo- Logan hold on."

"Come on, Veronica…this is some of my best work right here, you're killing my ego—" Banter cut short by the look on her face. Instantly, Logan moved from lusty affixation to worried consternation. He gripped her flushed cheeks in his hands. "Veronica your face is really red…and splotchy. Are you alright?"

"Oh yeah, I'm just peachy." Dry agitation riddled her pockmarked features, "Yeah, not being able to breath properly? Your boyfriend telling you that you look like a certified tomato? Couldn't be better." She managed sarcastically before breaking out into a coughing fit and running into the bathroom.

Logan looked after her sheepishly, hesitating for a second before he heard her shout, "I don't believe this!" —And presuming to run after her.

"What?" He was bordering on panic-mode, "Should I call your dad? Poison control — ? You're kind of freaking me out here." Brows knit in perplexity where she was leaning over the sink, examining a rash that had spread down to her clavicle.

"Hives, Logan. I'm breaking out in hives! I must be allergic to something." She pushed past him in haste, nerves rattled as she shuffled through the medicine cabinet in the kitchen before finding Benedryl and sufficing herself by taking a few. "Allergic? You're Veronica Mars! Nothing phases you. I didn't bring any kryptonite over in those lilies." It wasn't entirely a joke that time, he considered her invincible, always admirable of her unyielding strength. His very own supergirl - -who near constantly had him in a state of worry. But he couldn't complain too much, it kept him on his toes.

Dawning realization cast upon her face, "The lilies! I must be allergic. Ugh, so much for our romantic evening together." She pouted, which only made Logan's smile widen. "If it makes you feel any better, I think you still look very cute, red splotches and all. Come on, I'll take care of you, scaly or not. You know I had a pet lizard once—" That jest earned him a punch in the arm to which he grinned, picking her up off the ground he lead her over to the couch and laid her down gently, draping a blanket across her. Veronica glared at him, torn between bemusement, frustration, and adoration. A typical concoction of emotions whenever she was with Logan, actually.

He folded in beside her, draping an arm across her small shoulders and tipping her face up to his to drop a kiss against the crown of her head. "You know Lily would be laughing about this. How she's still pulling strings and she's not even here. Would have gotten a real kick out of preventing her brother from getting any action." He drove his fist forward in a jovial motion to demonstrate. The blonde curled in his arms smiled against his chest, "I know she would. Makes me think she set this whole thing up, even from…wherever she is. Lily always did like playing pranks."

"Well look at it this way, maybe she wanted me to practice my very domesticated boyfriend abilities. Now I get to take care of you, make awful soup that you'll pretend to like so you don't hurt my feelings, wait on you hand and foot…" Veronica perked at that notion, "Oooh, does that mean I get a little bell? Oh! Can I name you something special!? Jeeves, get me my caviar!" Her voice dropped several octaves, fingers snapping like some arrogant aficionado, affecting a comical voice that came off like a bad Robert de Niro impression.

"Jeeves? We can do better."

"Fine, fine, I'll think of something." She promised him, tapping him dotingly on the tip of the nose before yawning, the medicine's drowsiness already kicking in to effect. Logan noticed this and rubbed her back gently as she folded into his side, both of them curled in a feline position on the couch, not unlike giant cats preening and preparing for sleep. "So...flowers, just not really are thing, huh?" Lips hovered over the shell of her ear, dropping kisses in a scattered array from the tip to the base and then down along her neck, arm tightening around her midriff to keep her close to his chest.

Veronica didn't say anything, just smiled and curled inward, utterly content to drift off, knowing that Logan would be there when she woke up. That he'd be there, always.