The vodka burned a path down his throat, untainted by juices or mixers; there was no soda to take the edge off. Logan held the bottle up, looking at the liquid world through the glass. A blurry, wobbling tree sparkled in the corner of his room, and as he lowered the bottle he wondered again why the staff of the Grand continued to try and lift his spirits with anything other than—well, spirits.

Grinning ruefully, Logan stood. Deciding to get drunk and sleep his way through the morbid holiday season was easy; putting this brilliant plan in action had turned out to be shocking difficult.

Fuck, I just wanted this year to be different.

Logan slid his phone open, debating on whether or not to call Dick. The alcohol would certainly disappear, he knew, but this feeling of melancholy would linger, teasing him with flickers of sadness and despair. Christmas past, indeed.

The circled day on his calendar brought him back to reality, pulling him from thoughts of pears, angry fathers, mothers reeking of wine and blank tapes arranged cautiously in a line. Veronica had circled the 24th close to a month ago, when he'd told her he'd found her the perfect Christmas present. Begging him to spill his secret, she'd danced around the room, counting days and making lists of the horrible things she'd do to torture him if he didn't tell. She circled Christmas Eve as their day to exchange presents, leaving the real Christmas morning for time with her father.

The necklace lay in a tiny box, already wrapped by his own unsteady hands, in the corner of his dresser drawer. Frosted glass formed the petals of a carefully crafted lily, the top petal looped to hang on a chain of white gold—it would have looked beautiful on her. Maybe he'd leave it on her porch tomorrow, while she celebrated the season with her father and Wallace.

The door behind him shut gently with a light snick.

He didn't turn, choosing to tip his head back and rub away the tension in his neck. She'd come to leave her key, that's all.

"Logan?"

"Just leave it and go, Veronica. I'm not feeling all holly and jolly right now."

She didn't respond to the barb, and when he heard the door open and close again he turned, ready to snap the plastic key card and throw the shards over his balcony rail. Instead, Logan found himself looking at a red box tied with silver ribbon. She'd brought him a gift.

Dashing into the hall, he saw the elevator doors shut and heard the tell-tale hum of the machinery taking the girl he couldn't stop loving away from him once again. Adrenaline coursing through him, Logan spun on his heel and threw open the door leading to the stairs.

Twelve flights later, he knew why he'd never taken the stairs before.

He tumbled out into the lobby and ran to the door, crossing the parking lot in long strides to a familiar silver Saturn. Pausing only for a moment, he steeled himself for her wrath and tapped on the window.

Nothing happened. He tapped again before peering closer and seeing that she wasn't there. He couldn't have run faster than the elevator, could he?

Logan surveyed the half-empty lot in front of the Grand, noting that most of the regular vehicles were gone, people opting to party with family and friends on Christmas Eve rather than staying in and drowning their sorrows in liquor.

A familiar figure appeared at the main doors of the Grand, illuminated by the festive lights of the lobby behind her. She was dabbing at her eyes with a napkin emblazoned with the hotel's crest—she'd stopped in the bar adjacent to the lobby and he'd dashed right past her.

Logan froze, unsure of what to do, as he always was when it came to Veronica Mars. Did he let her go, tell her to go even? Or should he take the calculated risk that was inviting her to stay? He doubted she'd even accept an invitation back upstairs—he'd just bellowed at her to leave, after all.

She'd spotted him from across the rows of parking spaces and stood shock-still, pondering her choices.

"You got here fast." She choked out, voiced laced with tears he knew she'd tried desperately to hide.

"Yeah, well, the stairs aren't so bad…maybe I'll take them more often."

"The stairs?" Her gaze swept back to the hotel, "You live on the top floor, Logan."

"My legs are confirming that fact as we speak."

She shifted her weight, clearly uncomfortable and confused.

Logan cleared his throat, coming to a decision.

"So, uh—would you like to collect your present?"

"What?"

"Your present—I still have it upstairs. Today's the 24th, remember? Our Christmas," he reminded her softly, praying she hadn't totally forgotten him, hadn't totally cut him out of her life and her heart.

She's here isn't she? This has to mean something.

Veronica bit her lip, and nodded. She turned and made her way back to the hotel, tossing the napkin in the trashcan by the door.

Logan thought he would die inside the elevator it was so quiet. They stood on opposite sides, each focused directly ahead, both jumping slightly as the doors slid open to reveal Logan's hall.

His door stood open—he hadn't shut it when he dashed out after her. Veronica's brow furrowed when she walked in the door, and she glanced quizzically at him.

"When did you get a tree?"

"The staff put it up. It isn't really my sort of thing, you know?"

"Too fancy, you mean?"

"I guess," He'd meant having a tree at all, but if there was one thing he didn't want, it was Veronica's pity. Wisely, he chose to shut his mouth and leave it at that.

She settled herself on the couch, shucking her shoes and folding her legs up under a throw blanket. Logan looked at her for a long moment, then went to his room and found his gift to her.

"Where's your dad tonight? I figured you'd be with him, celebrating and all."

"He's of chasing some bail jumper for Lamb. He didn't really need the job, but I told him to take it. We can always use the money for Hearst or something. Being prepared, I suppose."

Logan sat on the opposite end of the couch, maintaining a cautious distance. He put her present of the table, sliding it to her with a tiny shove.

"Do I open it now, or wait until morning?"

"Whatever you want, Veronica."

"Okay, we'll open them at the same time."

Obediently, he lifted his package from the table where he'd left it. At Veronica's nod he pulled of the bow, tearing off the paper as he did so. It was only when he set the monogrammed chip holder on the table that he realized she hadn't touched her own gift.

"Hey!" He began to protest, but she silenced him with a look.

"I wanted to see you open it, okay?" She smiled nervously, "Did I choose alright? I guessed that the boy who has everything could use something personalized and swanky."

"Swanky?"

"You know what I mean."

"It's perfect. Open yours."

Logan noted that Veronica did not tear or scratch at her paper, but rather she folded it back primly. The tiny black velvet box made her frown at him, but the necklace inside made her lips twitch into a tiny smile.

"Is it glass?"

He exhaled the breath he hadn't know he was holding.

"Yeah."

"Help me put it on?"

She handed him the box and pulled her hair off her neck, twisting so that he could see where she'd been shaved. A tiny silver clip held the newly-grown blond locks, and when Logan hooked the clasp of the necklace together, he couldn't help but run his thumb over the clip as well. He swallowed thickly, remembering his fear from that night, the night he thought he'd lost her. Then she'd put herself in danger again…

Veronica stood, slipping into her shoes and gathering the paper. He didn't speak. At the door, she paused, then said clearly, "Merry Christmas, Logan."

"Merry Christmas, Veronica."

She started out the door, then stopped again.

"Logan?"

He lifted his head, staring mutely at the beautiful girl he didn't think he could ever forget. The girl who stayed behind one Christmas, the girl who kissed him softly outside a seedy motel room, the girl who accused him of evil, the girl who refused to trust him completely and the girl who ignored his calls.

"Mmm?"

"I love you."

And, just like that, she was gone.

It was like a thunderstorm erupted in his mind then ceased immediately, leaving him feeling clean and whole. He followed her out of the suite for the second time that night, catching her before she could push the button for the elevator.

Her hands went around his neck, clinging to him as he claimed her mouth again and again. Veronica's hair smelled like cinnamon and he wondered if this was the Christmas smell she'd always talked about.

Taking her hands in his own, he pulled her fingers off his neck and dragged her into the suite, shutting the door and returning to her with a kiss. Logan ran his hands down her body, watching with delight as she tipped her head back, arching against him. He lowered his head to suckle at her neck, kissing a trail up to the spot on her ear he'd found so many Christmases ago.

She gasped, and whimpered when he refused to stop his assault on her body. Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her gently and carried her to his bed.

Veronica pulled him on top her, nimbly flicking open the button on his shirt as she did so. He pulled at her sweater, getting it caught on her sole hairclip. She watched his face as he worked it free, running her fingers lightly over his chest.

Logan pulled her skirt off easily, smiling at the black silk bra and panties he'd bought her nearly three months earlier. She'd sworn never to wear black underthings and she had laughed when he handed her the bag.

"Why Miss Mars, I'm scandalized," he quipped.

She flicked open the button of his jeans and as she pulled the zipper down slowly she locked eyes with him and murmured, "Yeah well, you should be."

Before he could respond, she pulled his pants and boxers off completely. Logan reached for her, but Veronica smiled a vixen's smile and pushed him back against the pillows.

Logan's eyes rolled back into his head as he felt gentle fingertips run the length of his cock. It had been weeks since he'd even seen her for more than a moment's time, and now this was happening. He knew he wasn't going to last long, and he couldn't stop his hips from jerking wildly. Her hand sped up its ministrations, and he moaned when he felt her lips against his skin.

Opening his eyes, he looked down to see Veronica's blonde head bobbing over him as her wine-colored lips encircled his length. She steadied herself with one hand, and he watched as the other moved underneath her chin to cup him, her fingers rolling his balls carefully.

"Oh, God, Veronica!"

He came, hard in her mouth. Pushing her off him, he watched in fascination at her smirk as she swallowed.

"Scandalized?" She whispered, moving to straddle him with a kiss.

"Completely."

Leaning forward, she kissed him again, and he responded in kind, tipping her backwards until it was she who lay against the covers. The sight of her, flushed and gorgeous was more than enough to send shivers straight down Logan's body—and straight to his cock, which stiffened instantly. Reaching to the bedside table, he opened a drawer and pulled out a condom. Veronica tugged it from his grip and tore open the package, sliding the latex over him easily.

Veronica's fingers traced unidentifiable patterns across his chest, and her back arched as he slid inside her. She was so tiny, so tight—she felt unbelievable around him. Slowly, he pushed completely inside her, then began pulling back out. Just as he was about to leave her completely, Logan heard her whimper.

She clutched at him as he moved back inside, moving faster and harder as she rocked upwards, slamming into him with the same force. Changing his angle, Logan moved deeper inside of her, she was so close; he could feel her vibrating under him, her body begging for release. Suddenly Veronica twisted beneath him, her body convulsing around him. It was enough and too much and he screamed out her name as she cried out his own.

Spent, exhausted, and happy, Logan curled around Veronica and fell asleep.

The rays of the sun struck his face at an odd angle, bent through the glass and twisted into tiny slivers that danced across the bedcovers. His arm tingled, feeling as if he had slept on pins and needles. Opening his eyes, he saw that Veronica's head rested in the crook of his elbow.

As he shifted on the bed, pulling on his boxers, she opened her eyes, blinking rapidly as she adjusted to the morning light.

"G'morning," she grumbled, sitting up and pulling the sheets around her.

"Hello there,"

"It's Christmas morning."

"So it is."

"I wonder if Santa left me anything good."

Unconsciously, she toyed with the necklace still clasped around her neck. Logan watched her fingers from his place on the edge of the bed.

"Logan?"

"Veronica?"

"Does this mean that you forgive me for being, well, a bitch to you?"

"You weren't—"

Tears filled her eyes as she protested vehemently.

"I was though. I was distant and cold and ignored you…and I was wrong."

They both looked at each other for a long moment.

"I was wrong." She repeated softly.

"Are you going to stop putting yourself in unnecessary danger?"

"Unnecessary?"

Logan scooted closer to her on the bed.

"As in, will you please give me or Wallace—or even Piz--a call when you're going to catch the bad guy?"

"Yes."

He kissed her forehead, and she tilted her face up to meet his lips with hers.

"Then let's go see what Santa thought of your behavior this year."

Running her hands down his arms, she stopped him from getting up.

"Let's just sit here for a while."

"You don't want to see your presents?"

She tilted her head, smiling at him beatifically.

"I think I got what I wished for right here."