A/N 1: WOW! That's such a silly exclamation, but it's the best I can do to express how delighted (tickled, thrilled, exhilarated - step away from the thesaurus) I was to get the feedback to the first chapter. Thanks to everyone who favorited, followed, and reviewed. I couldn't believe it!
A/N 2: Remember, this is a three chapter story only. So, the third and final chapter will be up by Christmas. Probably way before that.
Logan Echolls has a plan. What's more, he has a single objective and purpose for the evening. Unfortunately he also has two very real and present obstacles he must overcome in order to accomplish said objective.
The first obstacle is a 5'4" woman with auburn hair that she wears at a much shorter length than she did five years ago. The fact that the woman in question is three months pregnant makes her a bit of a wild card. Hormones and all that.
The second obstacle is a 5'7" man who, while normally rational and understanding, is most assuredly going to fight with Logan the moment he learns of his intentions for the evening. Which is why a side objective for the evening is to bait this man as much as possible. Because, why not?
Logan knocks on the door, his mouth already forming around the words that will be his explanation, but the sound of footsteps and crying tells him that one of his obstacles is going to be distracted, which only works to his advantage.
In one smooth motion, Jenny both opens the door and hands Logan a screaming child. He's thrown off for only a second before he recovers and shifts the child to rest on his hip, bouncing him gently.
"Can you hold Sammy while I fix his dinner?"
When Logan looks up from Sammy's face, turned red from prolonged crying, he is met by the sight of Jenny's back retreating into the kitchen. Which tells him the question was actually rhetorical. He doesn't mind in the slightest, though, because he loves this kid, a lot. He just doesn't love getting drooled on.
Keeping the door slightly ajar, Logan walks into the house and continues to bounce Sammy until his sobs calm to slight hiccups of air. "Damn Jenny, what did you do to him? I've never seen him this upset."
Logan smiles at the sight of Sammy's wet, drooling face pressed into his dress shirt as Jenny's voice carries in from the kitchen.
"Oh, you know, told him he wasn't allowed to have any women over while we were out. He got real mad."
In a voice loud enough for Jenny to hear, Logan talks to Sammy. "Don't worry kid, you stick with me and I'll teach you all sorts of things. First, you have to stop sleeping in your parent's room. It makes sneaking women into the house exponentially more difficult."
He hears the clash of something being thrown into the sink and, a few seconds later, Jenny walks back into the living room with a plate.
"Logan, stop corrupting my sixteen-month-old."
Logan follows her into the dining room and watches as she sets up Sammy's high chair. "You say corrupting, I say educating. Besides, studies show that the best way to help children build a rich vocabulary is to speak to them in full and complete sentences."
She puts her arms out to take Sammy and, after placing a kiss on his head, Logan hands him to her. She's still distracted, this time by buckling Sammy in his chair, and Logan knows that's the only reason she has yet to comment on his attire.
When Sammy starts feeding himself grapes and pieces of grilled chicken, clearly more content now that he gets to eat dinner, Jenny turns her attention to Logan. Her face screws up as she takes in his appearance. Rather than immediately saying anything, she shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
"You're wearing a suit."
Logan appraises himself and fakes a shocked expression. "Hey, look at that, I am."
"I take it this means you're not babysitting for us tonight?" She bends down to pick a piece of broccoli up off the carpet, a feat he thinks would be difficult given the height of her shoes and the length of her hemline, but she still manages to make it look easy.
"Don't worry. I brought a replacement."
She stands with a hand on her hip and the annoyance in her voice is barely controlled. "So, what? You picked up some random person from the side of the road and I'm supposed to be okay with them watching my child?"
"You know her. You like her. And she's been background checked." In a rare moment of self-restraint, he stops himself from adding that her lack of trust in his ability to find a babysitter is disheartening.
She sets the piece of discarded broccoli on the dining table and puts her hands up, signaling that she's not getting into this argument. "Wallace is going to have your head."
Logan smirks and shrugs his shoulders, ultimately relieved that Jenny's hormones have mellowed and that Wallace is going to prove to be the true obstacle that evening. One angry Wallace, he can handle.
Jenny takes a step around Logan, still shaking her head at him but unable to hide that her mouth is curving into a small smile, and stands in the doorway of the dining room. "Wallace, honey, Logan is here."
"I'll be down in a second."
She looks over her shoulder at Logan and winks.
It's moments like these that make him miss Veronica the most. He knows that she's close to Wallace and Jenny and, now that she lives in Los Angeles, gets to hang out with them frequently. He's never a part of those hangouts and dinner dates, but he wishes he could have them recorded for posterity just so he could see how Wallace handles having Veronica on one side and Jenny on the other.
Logan looks down at Sammy who offers Logan a grape and then continues to feed himself. In between chewing the grape, Logan whispers to the toddler as if conspiring with him. "Sammy, your dad is about to get real mad at Uncle Logan. You got my back?"
Sammy lets out a string of gibberish which, while possibly discernible to Wallace and Jenny, leaves Logan confused. He accepts another grape from the toddler and interprets that gesture as an emphatic 'yes' of solidarity.
Jenny's voice steals his attention from Sammy. "Did I mention that Logan is wearing a suit?"
Wallace's response is immediate. "Ah, hell no. He is not going." The sound of footsteps thundering down the stairs makes Logan want to laugh, but he tries to stifle it.
He's unsuccessful once confronted with Wallace storming into the dining room, his eyes ablaze and his posture tense.
Wallace takes in the sight of Logan, chuckling to himself, dressed for the evening while his son happily eats his dinner, completely oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. He points an accusing finger at Logan. "We talked about this."
Scratching his temple, his brow furrowed as if trying to remember, Logan cocks his head. "Really? I don't remember that discussion."
"You're supposed to be babysitting."
Logan raises an eyebrow, trying to communicate the absurdity of Wallace's thought process. Like he'd really let a small obligation like that get in his way. "I found a replacement."
Wallace folds his arms across his chest. "Really? Where is she?"
Logan turns around when something hits his back and finds that Sammy, unsatisfied with being ignored by three people, has thrown a grape at him. Shaking his head, he picks it up and sets it on the table. "Nuh uh, Sammy. Food is not for throwing. Unless it's whipped cream. Or chocolate sauce. Then it's less 'throwing' and more, let's go with, 'drizzling'."
Clearly appeased now that he is the center of someone's attention again, Sammy continues to eat.
"Logan!" The eye roll in Wallace's tone is actually audible. He still stands with his arms across his chest and is doing his best to look imposing.
Jenny doesn't look at all concerned, however, and is reapplying her lip gloss in the mirror hanging on the dining room wall.
"My replacement is outside."
This gets Jenny's attention and she frowns at him. "You left her outside?"
Logan shrugs. "I cracked the door."
"Babysitters aren't animals you can just leave in the car with the window cracked." She rolls her eyes at him for the second time that evening, and leaves the dining room.
He calls out as she heads to the front door. "It isn't a window! It's a front door."
Logan hopes Wallace is amused watching the fight he is having with Jenny. That he'll calm down long enough for Logan to explain what's going on. But Wallace is still standing with his arms across his chest, and while it's not a full frown any longer, he's definitely not smiling.
Logan looks to Sammy, his only ally at the moment. "Sammy, is this what your dad does when wants to make you laugh? Try and look angry?"
Wallace opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by the return of his wife and a young woman with long black hair and an olive complexion.
Jenny handles the introductions, waving a hand between Wallace and the young woman. "Heidi, I think you've met my husband before, and obviously you know Logan."
Heidi extends a hand, which Wallace takes. "It's good to see you Mr. Fennell."
When Logan's replacement steps fully into the room, Sammy notices and starts up a constant stream of babble, kicking his legs.
Heidi smiles at his enthusiasm and leaves the grouping of adults to make her way to him. "Hey there, Sammy. Look at those legs; you're getting nice and strong little man." Without asking for permission, she removes the tray of Sammy's high chair, and his bib, and picks him up.
Jenny smiles at Heidi and gestures with her head at the room behind her. "Heidi if you wouldn't mind washing Sammy up in the kitchen. I'll be there in just a second."
The young woman smiles, bobbing and weaving her way through the people in the room. She catches Logan's eye before stepping out of the room and visibly blushes when they make eye contact.
He knows exactly how that storyline could play out, if he wanted it to. All it'd take to get her into his bed is an offer of a ride home. But aside from the fact that she drove herself, he seriously doubts that any of his friends would be thrilled to hear about his exploits with a 22-year old. Especially since this particular 22-year old is one of a handful of people that Jenny trusts enough to leave alone with her child.
The moment she's out of the room, Wallace turns all of his attention on Logan and his wife.
"Okay, what the hell is going on here? Who is that woman? Why is she taking my son away?" He points a finger at Jenny. "And why are you okay with it?"
She shrugs her shoulders and proceeds to look bored. "Why not? I mean, we're already growing another one. Who needs two?" She drops the jovial tone and fixes Wallace with a stare. "Don't you recognize her? She's Sammy's teacher at Little Gym." She places a hand on Wallace's shoulder and kisses him on the cheek, whispering loud enough for Logan to hear. "Let him explain before you tear into him."
Before stepping out of the room, she narrows her eyes at Logan. "I'm assuming you already paid her?"
He waggles his eyebrows and is about to make a comment but Jenny holds up a hand and her face contorts into one of amused distaste. "With currency, I mean, not with sexy dirty times."
He nods and winks at her. "And gave a generous tip. This one's on me."
She smiles, satisfied with his answer. "Damn straight it is." Before leaving, she reels around one last time. "But she better not end up on you, Logan. So help me god."
Wallace, while obviously pleased with his wife, is anything but satisfied. He looks downright pissed, probably because he's concerned that Old Logan has decided to stop by for a visit, and his tolerance for Old Logan is close to zero.
Logan puts up a hand to stop Wallace from launching into a tirade. He grunts, and then waves a hand at Logan to get on with his explanation.
"Before you huff and puff and treat me like the big bad wolf, you should know she asked me to come."
He had thought for a moment about drawing that out; teasing Wallace with a fabricated reason for his change of plans. But given how the last reunion went, and the way that reunion impacted their friendship, this is probably one topic where any joke is unwelcome.
Wallace's arms drop to his side, and his eyes widen a little. "She did what?"
Logan's already pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his text messages to find the one from Veronica, to offer it as proof. He doesn't bother to explain any further, just hands Wallace his phone.
Wallace takes it, lets out a puff of air triggered by his disbelief, and reads the message from under his breath. "Logan, it's Veronica. Not sure if you're planning to be at the reunion, but it'd nice to have you there to support me. You know, for old time's sake. Also, you were an asshole last time, so I figure you owe me." He hands the phone back, his expression communicating that he's not certain if he believes the words he just read.
His confusion is justified, because Logan can hardly believe the words himself. A Veronica who admits she wants his support. A Veronica who wants him there despite how he treated her five years prior, and then six years before that. A Veronica who may actually forgive him.
"She sent that to you ten days ago."
"Huh, did she?" He slides his phone back into his pocket and then busies himself with straightening his collar, ignoring the way Wallace is taking deep measured breaths.
Wallace glares at him and shakes his head and, while he'd never actually do it, Logan thinks that he might be contemplating flipping him off. Instead, Wallace rubs a hand over his forehead and lets out a deep breath.
"Why are you telling me this now instead of ten days ago?"
Smiling, he puts his hands in his pockets and wiggles his eyebrows. "And miss the vision that is you, all riled up? Seriously for about two seconds there, I thought I might have been a little scared."
When he sees a look of actual annoyance flash across Wallace's face, he drops the act. His fingers do a pass through his hair, careful not to muss it beyond repair, and he tries to communicate sincerity with his tone of voice alone. "Wallace, think about it. If I was just planning to go for the sake of being a douche, I would have faked being sick and then shown up to the reunion. I'm trying to be above board here."
Wallace's face clears of any anger, and he almost looks like his rational self again. "Alright, Logan, you can go."
"How magnanimous of you."
"But you were just awarded your ninety day jackass sobriety chip. If being with our old classmates causes you to regress, then I am going to physically remove you from the premises."
Logan raises both of his eyebrows, and steps towards Wallace, reaching out to pinch his cheek. "Wallace, you are just adorable."
Wallace's only response is to groan and bat his hand away while Logan wonders if that comment is being counted against him on his jackass behavior score card.
But, he honestly doesn't care because he's going to go to this reunion. He's going to get Veronica to hear his apology. And when she's handed her alumna of the year award, he's going to clap louder than anyone. With both obstacles now successfully overcome, he backs out of the dining room.
"We're not carpooling. Mostly because I refuse to be seen in your Volvo."
Frowning, Wallace picks up the piece of broccoli Jenny had set on the table and throws it at Logan, who laughs as the broccoli sails past him and out into the hallway.
"Wallace, stop throwing food."
Logan grins at the sound of Jenny's voice. "Somebody's in trouble." He sing songs the words and, despite Wallace's annoyance, Logan is relieved. He didn't need Wallace's approval, but he wanted it, and kind of got it.
Even if it is approval coupled with irritation.
It's not that Logan is anti-moping in general. Lord knows that he has indulged in his fair share of velvet pillow hugging and Dashboard Confessional listening. But it's one thing when that behavior is inspired by the loss of a significant other. It's something entirely different, and unacceptable in fact, when inspired by a completely platonic friend who one hasn't talked to in three weeks.
Over the past few years, Wallace has become almost like a brother to him. Which seems significant, except that Wallace isn't 'almost like a brother' to Veronica. They are siblings in every way, except in actually sharing DNA.
So he doesn't know why, after telling Wallace the whole sordid tale of his college graduation party and then their high school reunion, he expected anything to happen other than what actually did.
It'd be passive aggressive if it wasn't so blatant. They're adults now, so there's no ducking one another in hallways or ignoring phone calls. However, each time Logan calls Wallace to hang out, he gets a "Nah, man, I don't think so. Maybe some other time."
It's the same thing he says to Dick every time Dick calls him, and it'd be funny if it didn't fucking suck.
Moments like these make him wish he was an extrovert. He managed to fool people for a good number of years into believing that he was, but the older he gets the harder it is to pretend. He doesn't want to host huge parties with 300 plus people; he likes to keep his social circle small. That has never been a problem, until he kicked Dick out of his life and Wallace kicked him out of his.
It's Friday night, and there's a party he told some of his work colleagues he'd attend, but he really doesn't want to. So, he thinks he'll just stay in and watch "Fargo" for the fiftieth time. And then maybe go buy a cat, because that seems to be the path his life is taking.
Having just completed an online test which gives him a 91% compatibility rating with a Chartreux cat, he hears his front door open.
He weighs the possibilities of who could be walking through his door; there are only two. Since his door is locked, he knows it's not his easily confused, elderly neighbor. So that leaves only Wallace, to whom he gave a key in the event his plant (singular) needed watering during one of his business trips.
Logan closes his laptop and stands up to head for the entryway. He's greeted by the sight of Wallace holding a six pack of Red Hook ESB in one hand and a large pizza in the other. Logan just takes the pizza box from his hands and walks back into the living room, setting it on the coffee table before reclining on the couch.
Sitting down on the other end of the couch, Wallace hands him a beer. His eyes flick to the TV, see that Frances McDormand is on the screen, and groans. He shakes his head, picks up the remote and flicks to ESPN. "I am not watching that depressing ass movie again."
Logan wonders if he's actually gone insane, if his acute need to spend time with people besides those he works with has caused an apparition of Wallace to appear, but he decides to go with it. He leans forward and grabs a slice of pizza. "Those of us with taste actually find it to be funny."
Wallace scoffs at this and looks at him from the corner of his eye. "Taste?"
They finally agree on "The Hustler" and watch in relatively amicable silence, with Wallace occasionally muttering "arrogant bastard" under his breath. Logan can't decide if Wallace is referring to him or Paul Newman.
After most of the pizza has been eaten, Wallace starts speaking without provocation, his eyes still fixed to the movie. "She's doing okay. Told me she was over what you did, so I should get over it too."
Logan didn't know if he was going to get an explanation, and now that he's gotten one he doesn't want it. Because it just makes him feel like even more of an asshole. After everything, Veronica still does him the kindness of making sure he has a friend in Wallace.
He takes a sip of his beer and sets it down on the coffee table. "Tell her I said thank you."
"I will."
As they hang out, switching from "The Hustler" to "Dogma", Logan comes to terms with something that his therapist has been telling him for months: his social circle has shrunk to the point of being unhealthy. His therapist uses the phrase 'co-dependent' with him a lot, but Logan has never really seen that as being problematic, until the past few weeks when he didn't have someone to be co-dependent with.
People who need people to the point they can't get out of bed in the morning aren't the luckiest people in the world, they're sad sacks. So, while he's grateful to have Wallace's forgiveness, Logan refuses to be a sad sack any longer.
There are several events of importance on the Neptune High School Alumni calendar. The 10-year and 20-year reunions are known for being wild and lavish affairs. Random hookups, drunken confessions, and detailed ruminations of 'the glory days' are all part of that nostalgic package. The 15-year reunion is more understated. Usually a sit-down dinner, it's attended by about eighty percent of the graduating class. Three alumni are selected each year to be acknowledged for achievement in their field. Their names are put on a plaque and, no one really knows why, but it's a really big deal.
Wallace, Jenny, and Logan create an impenetrable line of witty critiques and thinly veiled criticisms as they stand in the ballroom of the Neptune Grand, sipping on sparkling water (Jenny, and Wallace in solidarity) and Scotch.
Logan scans the room, not attempting to disguise that he's looking specifically for Veronica. As his eyes follow a blonde, who ends up not being Veronica, walk across the room, Wallace's phone makes a sound loud enough to be audible even in the midst of the crowd.
He pulls it out of his pocket to read the text he's received. Looking around the room, he points to a table on the far side of the ballroom, near the stage. "Weevil is saving us seats over there."
Logan wipes a hand over his face. "Oh god, does my agreement to not be an asshole tonight extend to how I treat Weevs?"
Jenny snorts out a laugh and Wallace looks disapprovingly at first her and then Logan. "Let's go ahead and say it applies to how you treat all of humanity."
"Is this a three strikes and I'm physically removed, kind of thing? Is there a tier system of the types of comments that will get me on your bad side?"
Wallace kneads his forehead with his hand, clearly exhausted by trying to rein in Logan. "Let's just say I'll let you know if you've crossed a line."
"So if I were to say, ask Weevil how much stock he and his family had invested in Taco Bell, would that be over the line?" At Wallace's headshake, Logan proceeds to explain. "Because, you know, they probably eat a lot of shitty Mexican food. Was that not clear? Damn, I might be getting rusty."
Wallace smacks Logan in the chest and holds up a finger. "That's one."
"Oh, so it is a three strikes policy. Because that's not what you said before."
Another bubble of laughter escapes Jenny's throat and she just shrugs when Wallace silently pleads with her to not encourage him.
The three of them make their way to the table Wallace pointed to, but the feeling of his own phone vibrating causes Logan to halt. He removes it from his pocket and smiles when he sees it's from Veronica. This makes it the second time she's texted him, and yes he is counting.
From Veronica Mars – 7:12 PM
I'm in the lobby.
The demand for him to come and meet her is implied. While he's a little confused, he's mostly relieved because this means her request the week prior wasn't a drunken impulse. She really wants him there.
He places a hand on Wallace's shoulder to get him to turn around. "V's in the lobby. She wants me to go talk to her."
Wallace frowns and is clearly about to give another warning, but Jenny punches him in the arm to get him to stop. "Holy shit, Wallace, would you lighten the fuck up? He's not going to do anything, okay?"
Logan takes a second to lift up thanks to the universe that Jenny's hormonal ire, now raised, is directed at Wallace and walks away. He leaves Wallace to soothe his wife with a gentle hand on her lower back and a kiss on the cheek.
Logan can't get his feet to stay in one spot, and his fingers are drumming an irregular rhythm on his leg. He's still holding a glass of Scotch and he looks around for a place to set it down, but he's in a table-less expanse of lobby at the moment.
He knows he's putting too much weight on the significance of the interaction that's about to happen. They can't fix everything broken in their friendship in a ten-minute interlude, but Logan is just determined enough to try.
He sees her sitting on a couch in the lobby, perched on the edge of the cushion, her feet crossed at the ankles. His breath hitches at the way she looks like his Veronica again with her long hair in loose waves, wearing black pants and blazer, and a scarlet silk blouse. She's preoccupied, texting someone, so he takes another second to stare at her. Notices the way her makeup is done like it was in college, appearing effortless in how it showcases her best facial features which, in Logan's opinion, is all of them.
He muses that he has to be the unluckiest son of a bitch to have his one-time, one-true-love actually look better at 33 than she did at 18. She hasn't gained weight, exactly, but even from where he's standing he can see the way the curves of her chest and hips have filled out a little more.
He desperately wants this woman to be in his life, and he's going to beg and plead with her to let him be in some small way. He wants to know if she still has those laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. If she crinkles her nose when she's met with a choice she finds displeasing. If she'll still playfully swat at him when he says something inappropriate.
He makes his way across the lobby to her, and she looks up from her phone to see him approaching. After tossing her phone in her bag, she stands and offers him a half-smile. It's not radiant, barely reaching her eyes, but it does manage to make him a little weak in the knees.
He wonders if this Veronica is going to be different than the one he saw five years ago. The Veronica five years ago was warm and effusive with both Wallace and her husband, and him to a much smaller degree. He's worried that his carelessness, coupled with her husband's callousness, has caused that to dim.
He wants to hug her. He knows that much but, as he stands in front of her, he settles on a nod of acknowledgment and a smile. The returning smile she gives this time is brighter than the one she gave when she first spotted him, and it actually makes him blush. He feels his cheeks heating up, and he ducks his head down. It's been a while since he's felt this way.
When he looks back up at her she's amused, but her eyes suggest she doesn't quite know what he's thinking.
He doesn't seriously entertain the possibility of telling her that she's beautiful; that her ex-husband was a fucktard; that he was one too but isn't anymore and he's going to prove it to her. There will be time for all of that, he supposes (he hopes).
She takes a deep breath, her eyes shoot up to the ceiling and then come back to rest on Logan's face. Then, hallelujah praise the lord, her nose crinkles up. That's still the same.
"Logan, you were right."
Those words shouldn't feel like a punch, but they do. He almost sways with the way their weight catches him off-guard, and he groans. Tonight he was going to show her that their interaction five-years ago was an anomaly, and with four words she's managed to remind him of how bad he fucked up.
She furrows her brow, unable to read his visible distress. "What? A lady always pays her debts."
His head rolls back, and then he looks down at her. "Fuck, Veronica, I didn't want to be right. Not really."
She shrugs, most likely to acknowledge the fact that just because he didn't want to be doesn't negate the fact that he was. "Yeah well, I didn't want you to be right, either, if that's any consolation."
He laughs because, really, what else is he supposed to do? "It's piss-poor consolation." He rubs his hand along the back of his neck, and her eyes actually soften when she recognizes the familiar gesture. "I am sorry, though."
"For what?" She might be messing with him, but she looks genuine.
"You know, for ending your marriage."
He's thought about this a lot over the years. Sometimes cheating and philandering husbands realize that what they're doing is despicable, and they choose to stop. Maybe Veronica's husband would have done that. She did have a skill for reforming bad boys.
She laughs at his reason and shakes her head in what might be amusement. "Are you a 24-year old Pilates instructor named Jessica?" At Logan's blank stare she continues. "Because unless you are, you had nothing to do with my marriage ending." She notices the glass of Scotch he is still holding, and takes it out of his hand, throwing back the remaining liquid and setting the empty glass on the nearby table.
He wants to be offended that she needs alcohol to get through this interaction, but he's so turned on, he can't bring himself to care.
Focusing on the glass, he takes a second to order his thoughts. He doesn't know if her mentioning those facts is an invitation for conversation, but he's going to take it as one. "So, a Pilates instructor?"
"And his college girlfriend. But that didn't count because, let me see if I can remember this correctly, it was just a one-time thing and we had gotten in a fight that day."
His eyes go wide at this new information as he realizes just how badly Veronica was fucked over by this guy. This is a kind of betrayal he's felt before (three times actually, once just the year prior), and he hates that Veronica's felt it now, too.
"You didn't cause anything, Logan. I would have seen it eventually. You just helped expedite the process."
"So, what happened?" Because he has to know. He just has to.
She shrugs but her eyes flash with a bit of discomfort. If he knows Veronica, she won't talk about it unless she wants to. "At first he denied it. That line of defense lasted only until I showed him the photos. Then he tried to downplay it, telling me it was just a one-time thing. Finally he blamed it on me. Said I was cold and distant and he didn't have a choice."
He's actually a little shocked that she answered his question but, that feeling doesn't fully register, because he's concentrating on the tightness in his chest that developed from hearing Veronica's explanation. He allows his breath to escape slowly through his teeth. "Shit, Veronica. You know that's not true, right?"
She bobs her head back and forth, as if considering his perspective. "Yeah, I know." She smiles at him again, and he knows he's going to remember the night Veronica Mars genuinely smiled at him twice as one of the best in recent memory. "And even if it was, it doesn't make what he did okay."
"I can't believe you were the one to take the money shot." Her expression goes blank at what must sound like a condemning critique. "No, I just meant that it must have sucked seeing it for yourself. I figured you would have hired someone."
She stares down at her feet and shrugs again. "Despite years of therapy, my ability to compartmentalize remains intact."
He really wants to hug her now. Take her hand, pull her tight against his chest, and wrap his arms around her waist. This is not something she should have to fucking compartmentalize.
"You were right about something else." Her gaze is still on her shoes, but she looks up at him as she finishes her lead-in sentence. Her arms start swinging, and that's all the evidence he needs to know that whatever she's about to say is going to be unpleasant.
"The day after the reunion, at my dad's house, Zach said he wanted to give me and my dad time to spend together, just the two of us. He brought me flowers and cooked us dinner that night. I knew he was out with whoever that woman was from the reunion."
It must look comical the way his jaw actually drops, but neither one of them are laughing. "You let him go? You knew what he was going to do and you let him go?"
The laugh that comes from her mouth is one of the saddest sounds he can ever remember hearing. "If someone wants to leave you, Logan, you can't make them stay. What good would it have done to try?"
He knows that she has enough evidence in her personal life to support this claim. The first time she and Duncan broke up. Her mom leaving twice. Him throwing her out of his house. And now, her ex-husband.
Something about the way her tone is resigned, as if this is just the way the world is, saddens him, and he looks away. He really doesn't know what to say to make this better. Because he left her once, too.
"Why did you do it, Logan?"
When his eyes shoot up from their focal spot on the carpet, they meet hers and he sees a tear in the corner of her eye. He knows she's not asking about the reunion five-years prior. She's trying to cauterize the wound she received years before that.
He tugs at the sleeves of his dress shirt and jacket, and pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. He wishes he was wearing a tie, because playing with the knot is one of his favorite ways to dispel tension these days.
"I felt hurt, and I lashed out. I wish it was a more sophisticated answer but that's all there is to it." He throws his hands up, frustrated with how unsatisfying the words are.
She shakes her head, her gaze staying locked with his. "Dammit, don't you think I know that? I can recognize your defense mechanisms easily enough. I knew you were pushing me away, but I still don't know what I did." She runs the chain of her necklace through her fingers, but her eyes stay fixed on his face. "I know it doesn't change anything, but what did I do that was that bad?"
Of course she knew why he had done it. Even if they hadn't known each other since they were kids, the fact remains that she is Veronica Mars. Her brain probably didn't stop whirring for weeks after that night, trying to figure it all out.
He blows out another breath through his lips and takes a step towards her. The words he's about to speak need to be accompanied by a touch. He doesn't know if he's earned that yet, but he does so anyway, resting a hand on her shoulder.
"I thought." He groans, both because of how touching her affects him and because he doesn't want to have this conversation, then clears his throat, trying again. "I thought that you wanted that night to be a one-time thing. That you wanted to sleep together and then go our separate ways. And I couldn't do it."
She steps away from him so his hand drops from her shoulder. Her brow is furrowed as she processes his explanation, and when she speaks she does so slowly, trying to understand. "So, you thought that I wanted to use you for sex?"
He grimaces at her pithy synopsis but nods anyway. Why is it that whenever someone simplifies and articulates his thought patterns, they just sound idiotic? This is probably another thing Wallace has learned from Veronica, because he does it all the time.
Her lips form a tight line, and she nods her head several times. "I don't know whether to laugh or be offended." She looks at him again, and then her eyes cloud over, and her jaw tightens. "Offended is winning out."
She's pacing now in front of the couch, and he can see her clenching and unclenching her fists, trying to calm herself down. He lets her work this out in whatever way she needs to, and when she stands in front of him again, her fists are still clenched. "You really thought that little of me?"
Fuck. He hates her damn martyr complex. Of course she thinks this is about her, when really it has very little to do with anything she did.
"No, I thought that little of me." He grabs her hand and she tries to pull back, but he holds on tight. "Veronica, think about it. You and I hadn't seen each other, or even talked, in three years and the first time we did, clothes came off. I knew you were moving to San Francisco." He lets go of her hand to tug at his hair with both hands. "I didn't think you were planning for me to come with you or anything like that."
Now he's pacing. Trying to figure out the magic combination of words to get her to understand. They don't come, so he settles for, "I freaked the fuck out."
"Poetic, Logan."
They stand there taking deep breaths, both of their chests heaving, and after several seconds he notices that their inhales and exhales have actually synched up.
Her brow is still furrowed and her lips are kind of moving, like she's repeating their conversation to herself. He can see the way she's mentally moving around pieces of their history together, trying to get them to fit together.
She exhales one last heavy breath and wipes a hand over her features. Once she does, the crease in between her eyebrows is gone. She cocks her head to the side, an almost imperceptible shake as she speaks. "You think next time there's a misunderstanding like that we could maybe, I don't know, talk about it like grown-ups?"
He laughs and, when she smiles at him, he gets to exhale too. "Yeah, that'd be good." Then he snaps his fingers, a thought occurring to him. "Actually, we just did."
She puts her hand up for a high-five. "Score one for adulthood."
He smacks it, the sound of their hands hitting reverberating throughout the lobby.
This isn't a new beginning. This isn't like high school when they went from acting like they hated each other to making out. They're not going to pretend the past ten years didn't happen. And he's grateful, because maybe that's why they never worked out before.
That's when he realizes he's actively hoping they do work out this time, despite the fact he has no basis for such a presumptuous idea. But that's never stopped him before.
"I'm almost certain I've grown out of that defense mechanism, by the way."
"Only took you thirty-three years."
He throws his head back and laughs. "I don't think I developed it until my early teen years, so let's say twenty-years, tops."
Her answering shrug tells him that she'll allow it. After a beat of silence, he thinks he hears her say, "It hasn't been the same."
He's not even sure that she actually spoke. Maybe he's imagined talking to her so many times that he can now cause her voice to mentally manifest. But then he looks at her, and she's staring back at him expectantly, willing him to take an interest in what she has to say.
"What hasn't?"
"Life, I guess. Without you around, it hasn't been the same." She looks a little embarrassed by this admission, and he spares a second to wonder why she even made it.
He figures, since they're being intentional about confessing thoughts and feelings they've had for a decade, that she's unwilling to keep anything hidden. Her confessions are absolution, and he still doesn't know if he deserves them.
"I mean, it's ridiculous. You were only in my life for ten years. And now you've been out of it for that same amount of time." She takes a deep breath and smiles at him again, disarming him with the amount of vulnerability in that one look. "I'd like you to be a part of the next ten. In some way."
It's possibly the closest she's ever gotten to out-and-out admitting how much she needs him. He didn't expect it in this moment – at the close of a conversation that has included mention of her cheating ex-husband and her cowardly ex-boyfriend – but he's grateful all the same.
This is the moment, he thinks, where it's okay to hug her. He pulls her to his chest, and at first she stiffens under the intimacy of the contact. But he breathes in her scent, convinced that if she didn't want him to touch her she'd push him away. He plans to hold her until she hugs him back, not caring how long that will take.
He's unaware of the position of her arms, because his eyes are screwed shut, but then he feels her move them to wrap around his waist. And while they aren't clutching him as tightly as his arms are clutching at her shoulders, he's going to count it as a win.
"Just try and get rid of me, Mars." He winces, not certain if the reminder of her un-hyphenated last name is going to sting, but she doesn't pull away.
If this wasn't her big night, he'd suggest they skip the party and go somewhere else. But if Wallace was against him being a total asshole, then he'd probably also be opposed to his stealing away the honoree.
He doesn't want to let go, but he feels his phone vibrate, and in his gut he knows it's Wallace.
From Wallace Fennell – 7:29 PM
They just served dinner. V's going to be pissed if you make her miss grilled salmon.
He smirks at the message, and holds his phone out for Veronica to see. She smiles in a way that tells him that Wallace's assertion is actually correct and grabs her bag from the couch.
He doesn't offer her his arm. If anyone asks him to go over the events of the evening he will be absolutely certain of that detail. He just walks beside her as they head into the ballroom, his left hand in his pant pocket, his right arm positioned so his elbow happens to be angled out from his body. The fact that after walking a few steps she takes hold of his elbow is merely a happy occurrence. And if any tension in his chest recedes the instant she does it, well that's just serendipitous.
"You want to blow this whole thing off? Go get drunk on the beach instead?"
He knows she's not making a serious offer, but he doesn't articulate that. If he opens his mouth he's going to tell her that's all he wants and, before she can protest, pull her out of the Neptune Grand.
Dinner is more or less torturous. He admits only to himself that he finds Weevil's wife to be charming, and he bites his tongue so hard to keep from insulting anyone that he actually causes it to bleed.
The only saving graces of the evening are that Wallace isn't sitting next to him, so he can't kick him from under the table each time he feels Logan has crossed a line with his humor, Veronica is on his right and sitting close enough so he can smell her perfume, and Mac is on his left.
Her sarcastic comments, almost always spoken only loud enough for him to hear, are welcome tension breakers. Especially because they distract him from how much he wants to wrap an arm around Veronica's shoulder, pull her close to his body, and pepper her face with kisses.
Wallace and Jenny are the focus of the table at the moment, regaling everyone with the story of their reaction when they found out that Jenny was pregnant again. After finishing his part of the story, Wallace takes a piece off his roll and throws it at Logan.
Logan picks up the bread from the table and eats it. "That was uncalled for."
"If I ever hear you tease my second child about being an accident I will end you."
He rolls his eyes as he takes a sip of his Scotch. "You're really at your idle threat limit tonight, Wallace."
Mac looks delighted by this reveal. "Oh, Wallace threatened you?" She threads her fingers together and rests her chin on her hands. "How cute."
"That's what I said." He puts a fist out, and without even looking, Mac bumps it, giggling as she does.
"Echolls, you've really lost some of your edge if Wallace here can keep you in line." It's the first time Weevil has addressed him directly, and Logan has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from responding. He doesn't actually hate the guy anymore, but he possesses an innate instinct to antagonize him that he doesn't think will ever go away.
When Logan keeps quiet and just takes another drink of his Scotch, nodding at Weevil, Veronica bursts out laughing. "What exactly did Wallace say to you?"
He shrugs, and looks towards Wallace as he speaks. "Something about physically removing me from the premises if I stepped out of line." He makes a show of leaning over to whisper to Mac, but ensures he's speaking loud enough for everyone to hear. "I know he can't actually do it, but it's nice to let the little guy feel good about himself every now and again."
Mac breaks into another burst of giggles, and now he just can't stop himself. He tried to be polite. He really did. "Weevil, you might recognize the gesture?"
Weevil raises an eyebrow in response and waves his hand at Logan to get to the punch line. "I mean, I assume your wife fakes her orgasms for the same reason."
Mac gasps, more in surprise than from any amount of horror, Veronica just shakes her head but is looking down to hide a smile, Wallace has squeezed his eyes shut, Jenny is oblivious to any tension and eating off Wallace's plate, and Weevil just nods his head in appreciation of the hit.
The most interesting reaction comes from Weevil's wife Tiana, who whispers something in Weevil's ear that makes him smile. She addresses Logan directly, her eyes alight with mischief, as one hand plays with the collar of Weevil's shirt. "You know that saying, 'I'll knock you from here to Tuesday'?"
Logan smiles and nods.
"Well, when Eli gives you an orgasm on a Saturday, you feel the aftershocks until Tuesday. Which is why my friends and I call him TD, for Tuesday." She takes a long drink of her beer, and then lightly punches a Weevil who might actually be blushing, in the shoulder. "And he just turns the cutest shade of red whenever I do."
Tiana squeals, and Logan sees it's because Weevil's squeezing her side to tickle her. "More like you do." Addressing the table, he explains, "She's got a bit of a jealous streak."
Logan wants to make a comment about Weevil being whipped, having his woman fight his battles for him, but at that moment Veronica steals the remaining asparagus spears from his plate, and he acknowledges he doesn't have any room to talk.
He wraps an arm around Veronica's chair, and she looks up at him, all faux innocence.
The way her eyes are now alight with mischief can't be good. In between chewing, she manages to get out, "What do you think, Logan? Should we share with the group all the private nicknames I've given you?"
The hoots and hollers of the entire table make her beam, and he can see the way she's daring him to try and stop her.
Sitting back in his chair, he takes a long drink of his Scotch, and crosses an ankle over his knee. After all this is the girl who's idea of a salacious 'I've never…' statement is 'I've never gone skinny dipping.'
She raises an eyebrow and nods, clearly impressed that he's not going to protest. She sets down her fork and rubs her hands together. "Okay well, one time after we had sex –"
Logan chokes on his Scotch and Wallace covers his face with his hands, groaning.
Maybe he underestimated her. He'd bet good money that a game of 'I've never' with Veronica now would be a lot more interesting than it was 16 years ago.
"—I dared him to dance naked, and –"
He stops her from continuing this trip down NC-17 lane by clamping a hand over her mouth, and whispers in her ear, "No more sharing, unless you want everyone to hear the real reason I used to call you bobcat."
At his threat, Veronica's eyes widen and she shakes her head emphatically.
Weevil, Jenny, and Tiana throw pieces of bread and ice at him, displeased that he interrupted the story. Wallace still has his face covered and from the corner of his eye Logan can see that Mac has smashed her lips together and is trying her best not to laugh. Most likely because she's already heard this story before.
One by one, he peels away his fingers. When Veronica's mouth is released she shoves away his hand and calls out in a quick stream of words, "He did a choreographed nude dance routine to SexyBack!"
Pointing at her, he responds almost immediately. "She growls when she orgasms!"
The actual awards ceremony is a lot of fanfare with very little substance. The new principal of the school, Principal Smyth, gushes about Veronica's accomplishments as a photojournalist and mentions the National Journalism Award she received the previous year. When it comes time for her to receive the award, all she will have to do is stand up at her table, wait for the spotlight to find her, and wave to the crowd.
As it gets closer for her to do just that, Logan can actually feel the tension rolling off of her and, without thinking about it, places a hand on the small of her back. Her eyes flick to his and he almost pulls his hand away, expecting her to scold him, but he keeps it there when she looks at him gratefully.
Principal Smyth asks Veronica to stand and she audibly groans, but only loud enough for their table to hear. Logan is about to start applauding as wildly as Wallace and the rest of the table but, before he can, Veronica reaches her hand down to grip his under the table and holds it out of sight.
He doesn't quite know what he's done to merit this. How Veronica still wants him around after all their history, but he's not going to question it. She waves to their classmates with her free hand while she waits for the member of the alumni committee to bring her the engraved plaque. She holds it up, dropping Logan's hand to do so, and poses long enough for the hired photographer to take her photo.
"Does anyone find it ironic that Veronica is getting this award because of her work as a photographer, and is now being photographed by a two-bit hack?"
Mac's question causes Logan to smile, and he makes a mental note to ask Veronica for permission to steal Mac as a friend, too.
The spotlight shifts back to the stage and Veronica sits down in her chair a little heavier than she needs to, letting out a huff of air. Logan wants to grab her hand again but there's no real reason to, except that he almost craves her touch. He doesn't know if she'd see that as a good enough reason.
Attention is on Principal Smyth again as he praises the work of the second award recipient. Everyone at the table received the reunion invitation in the mail two months prior. Logan read with his own eyes that Richard Casablancas, Jr. was an award recipient, but he doesn't really believe it until he hears the list of Dick's accomplishments being recited.
Principal Smyth focuses primarily on Dick's work to establish The Cassidy House, an organization committed to preventing and treating child abuse, noting that it has served close to 2,000 children to date.
The spotlight shifts to Dick, who is sitting a couple tables away from Logan. He accepts his plaque with a little more bravado than strictly necessary as he waves and works the crowd. He rotates around, holding the award high above his head, and gyrates his hips as he does.
Logan can't help but laugh at the contrast between Dick's outward actions, and the actions of a man who runs a charitable organization. When he makes eye contact with Dick, he gives him a small nod of acknowledgment, and then holds up his hands so Dick can see he is actually applauding. Dick laughs, and returns the small nod, and then sits back down at his table.
He doesn't really think about whether or not this small interaction is noticeable to the entire table, but of course Veronica sees it. "The two of you are friends again?"
"It's a tenuous reconciliation." He moves to face her, and is slightly stunned when the action causes their noses to be mere inches from one another.
She smiles at his short answer, understanding both what the gesture and the words indicate. Turning her face away, she pushes the remnants of her meal around with her fork. "What made you forgive him?"
He shrugs, not certain how much she knows about the circumstances surrounding their initial fallout. She hadn't asked for details at their 10-year reunion, but he'd bet his Audi that she's tricked Wallace into fessing up.
"A wise woman once told me that people grow up. I thought I'd give it a try."
They've talked through the third award being presented to a classmate named Alyssa Petrie whose company makes stainless steel water bottles and donates some of the proceeds to clean water projects. Neither he nor Veronica knows her, but Jenny and Mac both say they had a class with her.
A few years ago he might have spent a large amount of time comparing the kind of work his small publishing house did to that which Veronica, Dick, and Alyssa, are doing. Along the way, he'd convince himself that his work wasn't enough. That it was insignificant even. But he's relieved to find that on this night there's not a trace of those feelings.
His inferiority complex still creeps up at inopportune moments, but it doesn't cripple him anymore. He can sincerely applaud his classmates and feel fine about himself. He's got a small group of close friends (six including Wallace and Jenny), a job he cares about, and while not currently romantically entangled, he's even managed a healthy relationship or two.
With dinner and the award portion of the evening over, the tone of the event changes. The music is turned up louder and people are drinking a little more freely. It's not drunken revelry, but it's no longer semi-formal.
Mac steps outside to take a work call, Wallace and Jenny pretend like they need fresh air but everyone knows they're calling to check up on Sammy, and Weevil and Tiana head to the dance floor, which leaves just Logan and Veronica at the table. He wouldn't mind getting some fresh air himself, but he's not about to leave her side. So he takes a few bites of the hazelnut semifreddo in front of him, before pushing it towards Veronica with a grimace at the texture.
Veronica laughs at the face he makes, and that's when he notices the laugh lines at the corner of her eyes and the edges of her smile. They're as pronounced as they were five years ago, but he feels like if he tried to kiss them this time that maybe it'd be okay.
"Not your favorite, I take it?"
"It's trying too hard." He picks up a piece of mint garnish from the plate and twirls it between his fingers. "Am I supposed to eat this?"
"I don't think so." She grabs Logan's dessert plate and after taking another bite, sets her spoon down and looks up at Logan. "Alright, I'm done."
"With dessert?"
"Yup. And this party in general. I've put in three hours. My public can't expect more." She reaches under her chair to grab her bag, and pushes her chair back.
He stands up, because he's a little surprised that, just like that, their time together is up. He thinks he'll hug her again, but she's walking away without even saying goodbye and his mood plummets instantly.
Taking deep breaths, he reminds himself that this isn't a rejection. Veronica didn't offer him anything other than an opportunity to apologize. The night went smoothly, and maybe that is victory enough. He didn't make her cry, and no one will be calling him a jackass in the morning.
But then she stops and turns around, tilting her head at him. Her eyebrows knit together, and she actually taps her foot. "Well, are you coming?"
"Huh?" He wishes he had a more articulate response, but she's clearly arrived at a place that is several steps ahead of him, and he's fighting to catch up.
"I thought we were getting drunk on the beach."
He pats his pockets, ensuring he has his wallet, cell phone and keys, and is at her side in less than three steps. This time his elbow isn't even angled away from his body, but she takes it anyway.
They don't actually end up at the beach, mainly because Veronica makes the observation that if both of them get drunk, then they'll be stranded in the middle of Neptune without a ride home. So Logan suggests they head to his place.
People, who are not Veronica, think that he is charming. He has a line for every occasion and a come-on for every type of woman. Except her. He can't seem to keep his shit together with her. Especially with this new Veronica who is still so much who she used to be, but is also steadier.
The words he uses to invite her to his house do a terrible job of communicating that he's steadier too. He's well aware he sounds like a prepubescent boy talking to a girl for the first time when he stutters out, "Maybe…we could…my apartment is close…if you want."
She doesn't show him any mercy, and responds, "Maybe…your apartment…good…drinking there?"
He messes up her hair by rubbing his hand quickly over her head and frowns. "I'm not a freakin' caveman, Veronica."
"Well then stop talking like one, Logan."
They drive separately, with Veronica following Logan, and as they take the elevator up to the fourteenth floor she makes it clear that she's hungry again.
He gathers ingredients to make grilled cheese sandwiches as she takes off her boots and blazer and wanders around his apartment, touching everything she can get her hands on. It actually makes him nervous to see her appraising his belongings, and he acts indifferent to cover up that he really wants to know what she thinks.
"This isn't quite how I imagined your apartment would look."
Handing her a sandwich and a beer, he feigns confusion and returns to the kitchen to grab his own. "You've imagined my apartment?"
She settles herself on his couch, her legs curled up under her as she eats. "In my head it was much more modern. One large open room, all white walls and furniture – " she trails off to take a drink of her beer.
Laughing at her description, he adds to it. "Clear glass vases with unnecessary silver orbs."
"Lighting fixtures that are just light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Exotic animal sculptures."
"Framed art that looks like it could have been drawn by Sammy but cost $10,000. In other words, you thought it'd be the den of a pretentious asshole." He raises an eyebrow at her and takes a long drink of his beer.
She looks like she's going to protest and then lifts her right shoulder in a half-shrug. "I'm relieved to be proven wrong."
He fakes choking on his beer. "That's a sentence I'm probably never going to hear you speak again."
"It's a one night special."
Her admission that she was wrong might be a one night special, but he really doesn't want her presence in his apartment to be. It actually makes his heart ache to see how comfortable she's made herself. He notices that while he cooked, she alphabetized his coffee table books by last name of author, and has gathered and stacked the coasters which were spread out among the tables.
She rubs her thumb and middle finger together to rid herself of any crumbs, and a few of them drop to the floor. He thinks about fake bitching at her, but he's mesmerized by the easy grace of her action. And each crumb that drops on his carpet is just a little piece of proof that she was here.
"Wallace told me what happened between you and Dick."
Maybe she waited tables while she was at UCLA, because her ability to time statements and questions for the exact moment he's taken a bite of something is unparalleled. He takes a swig of his beer and swallows down his food.
"I wish you would have told me," he says.
She nods but doesn't meet his gaze. She's running her index finger up and down her beer bottle, collecting the condensation that has gathered.
He thought that forgiving Dick was the right thing to do, but Veronica isn't saying anything, so he thinks that may have been a miscalculation on his part. "Are you mad at me for forgiving him?"
This gets her attention and she looks up at him, surprise evident on her face. "No. If I didn't want you to be friends with him I would have told you myself." She puts her beer down and then shifts so she can rest her head on the back of his couch, her face turned towards him.
"I figured if you could forgive me for everything I did to you, I could do the same." He leans back, his feet extended straight on the coffee table, and rests his head to look at her. "Thank you for convincing Wallace not to be mad at me anymore."
She tilts her head forward so their foreheads touch for a second before she pulls away.
"Why did you do it?"
She shrugs and closes her eyes. "The same reason I never told you about Dick. I didn't want you to be alone."
If the urge to hug her was strong at the ballroom, it's nothing compared to the urge he now has to kiss her. To cup her face between his hands and place a light kiss on her lips. He settles for running a finger along her jawline and then tilts his head forward so their foreheads touch once more. "Thank you."
She opens her eyes and a gentle smile tugs at her lips. "You're welcome."
Taking her hand in his, he runs his thumb along her knuckles, then traces the lines of her palm with his index finger. She jerks a little when he accidentally tickles her, and the squeal she lets out is enough to make him want to do something drastic, like tell her he loves her, or suggest they run away together.
She's more relaxed than he thinks he's ever seen her. Their faces are still turned towards one another, but her eyes are closed, and he's focused solely on the sensation of holding her hand. So of course he needs to interrupt the peace of the moment.
"Did you really love him?"
She squeezes her eyes tight, but she doesn't pull away. "Yeah. I really did."
"Well that sucks." It's not the most eloquent response, but its simplicity causes her to laugh, so for that reason alone he's glad he said it.
She opens her eyes and pulls her hand out of his grasp, and he figures this is the moment where they're going to say their farewells. But instead of moving away, she begins to run her fingers through his hair and he wants to hum it feels so good. "I didn't tell him that enough."
He shakes his head, trying to prevent her from blaming herself for any of Zach's actions. "Veronica, it wasn't –"
She interrupts him by placing a hand to his lips. "I know it wasn't my fault. But I still should have told him. It may not have changed anything." She drops her hand from his mouth and then turns her gaze downward. "But maybe?"
"Don't do this to yourself."
She's kneading her hands together now, and he wishes she'd just look at him. "I'm over it. I really think I am. But I wish I would have done that differently." Her hands stop their almost frantic movement, and she takes a deep breath. "I should have told you, too."
"Shit." Again, it's not the most articulate response, but it's all he can manage. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and places a kiss on her forehead, hoping she gets that this is about comfort and not an attempt at seduction. "I knew. You didn't have to say it."
She looks up at him now and, while she's not smiling, there's no tension in her features. Slowly she traces the lines of his face, starting with his forehead, moving to his eyelids, down his cheekbones, and finally over the curves of his lips. He's not entirely certain why she's doing this, and the amount of control he's exerting to keep calm is almost causing him pain.
"I loved you, Logan."
It's not a present tense admission. He knows that, but he hears it as one, which is the only real reason he has for kissing her. He keeps the kiss soft, giving her plenty of time to either push him away or pull herself away. They're tiny, partial open-mouth kisses, and he can't remember the last time kissing someone felt this intimate. He pulls back and gives her an appraising look.
She smiles at him and just shakes her head, turning her eyes away. "This is ridiculous." Her voice is so low it's almost a whisper.
He scoots an inch closer to her so he can speak directly in her ear, and places a kiss on her temple. "What is?"
"Feeling this way." She turns her head to kiss his cheek. "We're not supposed to feel this way."
He's kissing down the column of her throat now, and her hands are tugging at the hair at the base of his neck. "Says who?"
"The world in general."
"Fuck the world."
"Not enough time." She tilts her head back first, then the rest of her body, and he follows her until she's lying down on his couch.
He holds himself up so he's hovering over her, occasionally dipping down to kiss her, before pulling back to look her in the eye.
"This could be a mistake." Her tone almost begs him to contradict her, but he's not going to make this decision for her.
He kisses across her collarbone, shifting his weight onto one hand so he can undo the first two buttons of her blouse with the other, and places a kiss right above the lace of her bra. "Does it feel like a mistake?"
The way she's wrapping her leg around his tells him she doesn't think so. If that wasn't enough evidence, her hands untucking his shirt from his waistband would suffice. But he still wants to hear her say it.
"Veronica, is this a mistake?" He stops kissing her to hold her gaze. It must only be seconds, but he swears that wars have begun and ended in the time it takes for her to answer.
She shakes her head, bringing a hand up to smooth out the crease between his brows. "No, this isn't a mistake."
With agility that impresses even him, he jumps off the couch and tosses Veronica over his shoulder, holding onto her by the knees.
She swats at his shoulders a few times, but her words are playful. "Logan, what the hell are you doing?"
He kicks her boots out of the way as he walks. "Taking you to the bedroom before we overthink this to death."
"Okay." And then her body goes limp as she's draped over his shoulder. He'd be concerned that she passed out if he couldn't see for himself that she's wiggling her toes.
"Veronica, are you okay?" He looks over his shoulder to try and see her face, but her hair is obstructing his view.
"Mmmhmm. Just conserving energy."
She must think she's so damned cute, because her words almost rip a groan from his throat, and at the sound she starts laughing.
"Hey, look at that. I just made a townie moan without using my hands."
Which just causes him to groan again. He can feel the breath from her chuckle on his shoulder and he never imagined that this is how the night was going to end.
This isn't a new beginning. He doesn't know exactly what it is, but he's going to trust Veronica on this one; it isn't a mistake.
Once he wakes up the next morning, he has the following thoughts in the following order: 1) need water, 2) need coffee, 3) the bobcat nickname still applies.
He doesn't actively think about having sex with Veronica again only because that's more of a consistent framework from which he operates daily. The sun is yellow, the sky is blue, and Logan Echolls wants to have sex with Veronica Mars.
Even while dating other women, something would usually happen to trigger a memory that led back to Veronica. He dated a girl for close to a year who sometimes wore her hair in pigtails on the weekends, but they never quite looked right. It took him four months to figure out that he didn't like that she wore them out to the sides rather than low at the nape of her neck.
He rolls over onto his back and is met by the sight of crumpled sheets and an empty side of the bed.
He's not worried. Panicking just because she's not still sleeping would be absurd. It's when he looks around the room and it registers that the t-shirt he gave her to wear is on the floor, but her clothes aren't, that he leaps out of bed.
Putting on a pair of boxers, he heads for the living room at a half-jog only to find an empty apartment. He knew that's what he'd find, but a part of him hoped she'd be there, sitting on his couch watching reruns of Law and Order and eating Life cereal straight out of the box.
Not yet awake enough to handle this information, he kind of stumbles through his living room and into the kitchen to get that glass of water. Concentrating on breathing, in through the nose and out through the mouth, he fills the glass and gulps it down.
He's dealt with heartaches both great and small before. Sure, this one is going to go down as one of the great ones, but he'll get over it. Clutching the glass, he repeats that to himself like a mantra.
His eyes fall on a piece of paper lying on his counter. Picking it up, he sees it's a note written on an old grocery receipt that Veronica probably fished out of his recycling bin.
Logan, I am so sorry. This has nothing to do with you. I promise. – Veronica
Brush off by grocery receipt.
After pouring himself another glass of water, he flattens the note out and reads it again. He doesn't crumple it up and dramatically throw it away. He plans to save it, because when he discovers whatever it is that Veronica is inevitably freaking out about, he's going to milk this memory for devious sexual favors.
It's been a decade of false starts and miscommunications, and he refuses to let another ten go without getting answers. Maybe if they were still nineteen he'd let her get away with this but, they're not and, a plan is already forming in his mind.
If this isn't about him, and he chooses to be believe her when she says it's not, then he's not going to stop until he finds out what it is about. Because the fact is, he simply will not tolerate going another five years without kissing her again.
A/N 3: *Ducks and covers behind a retaining wall* Remember, Logan and Veronica are my OTP! Would it make this any better if I told you that chapter three will take place two months after this one? (I thought about making this a 20-year reunion chapter, but my beta forbid me. She said it was mean.) Review and tell me what you think. What do you expect V's reason is for skipping out?
A/N 4: Writer's egos are super fragile things. And my beta had to deal with a lot of my "please, tell me this is okay!" pleas this week. So, big time thanks to Scandalpants. Now to go work on "I Know That Face". I hope to have Chapter 12 of that story posted by next Wednesday. Crazy, but doable.