Author's Note: This takes place post-movie, pre-S4, in the same universe as my Navy!Logan fic Light Me Up. I realized this morning I had missed a chance to write a LoVe Valentine's Day fic, and I was so so sad, so I wrote this quick little thing. I hope you enjoy it.
I do not own these characters or world, and this is purely for entertainment value.
The Most Unexpected Valentine
"Fuck fuck fuck…" Veronica chanted.
"Well," said the criminal cuffed in her backseat. "I'm game if you are."
She tossed a glance over her shoulder, her foul mood not improved by his commentary. "Thinking your day is looking more like the past tense version of that verb, friend."
As was, unfortunately, hers. She hadn't realized it was February 14th until she'd double-checked the date on this bail jumper's paperwork. Questioning all of his friends, neighbors, drug dealers, and online gaming buddies had eaten up most of her day. The fender bender that resulted when she caught up with him in the Taco Bell drive-through line had eaten up the rest of it.
His order of tacos, however, she'd eaten herself.
She considered it her due for working on a sort-of-holiday. But the tacos weren't going to make up for the fact that now, she would barely have time to swipe a handful of roses from the grocery store before meeting Logan at six.
"Fuck," she snarled again, running a yellow light out of pure spite.
Logan deserved better than last minute don't-be-mad roses. For her gift, he would certainly have done something over the top, thoughtful, and romantic. Perfect for her, and without a whiff of cliché in sight, though the practiced nose might detect subtle top notes of sentimentality.
Today in particular, he deserved something exceptional.
Last night, apropos of nothing, he'd made love to her so sweetly that it took hours. Two hours of sleepy, languid tingles as he softly rubbed every place on her body. Massaging her ankles until they felt like works of art. Her shoulders until they were the same consistency as butterscotch pudding, puddled and golden and fresh out of the microwaved. Then another hour of orgasms, starting gentle and growing increasingly intense until he'd finally crescendo'ed along with her with a rough, almost involuntary gasp of her name.
She'd fucking cried.
Had lied and told him she was going to get the mail, and then ugly sobbed into the sleeve of her bathrobe on the staircase landing. How had she lived for nine fucking years without ever being touched like that?
Nine stupid, wasted years alone with her vibrator and textbooks, with mostly only her building's nosy super for company. Logan had already loved her when they were teenagers, without a doubt, but now…damn. The way he was with her now was another species of love entirely.
It was something about the way he had come into his own, how he seemed to have that endless well of strength, and patience, and steadiness inside him now. It was like he had more to give. Or maybe she was in a better place to fully receive it. She wasn't sure, but it cracked her the fuck in half, to the point she couldn't even stand to let anyone see how much.
Of course, he knew what she was doing.
He gave her five minutes to cry, and then came out and carried her back inside. Turned out all the lights, and held her in his lap, and whispered, "I won't tell if you won't."
Like everything was their little secret. Their love. Her annoying, squishy heart. The way he could take her to pieces on any given Thursday night without hardly trying.
"Are you crying?" the bail jumper asked.
She swiped at her nose. "You would be, too, if you knew what the sheriff was going to do to you when he sees you skipped bail to go to Taco Hell, of all places." She tossed a glare in the general direction of the backseat. "The least you could have done was spring for guac, you cheap bastard."
#
5:57.
Veronica sprinted up the stairs, guiltily stuffing her shopping bag inside her messenger bag when a neighbor stopped to wave.
In the end, she'd skipped the flowers—did Logan even like flowers? If she couldn't remember, he probably couldn't either—and grabbed a little something from the Adam and Eve store on the way home. She hadn't even had time to try it on. Just told them to give her something the color of a stoplight in an extra small, and winged her credit card across the counter.
It's a one-piece number, of course, her never-gets-old fuck you to Madison Sinclair. Sometimes the lingerie doesn't make the girl, the girl makes the lingerie. Bitch.
"Honey, I'm home!" she sang out as she unlocked the door. "You better have your apron on and nothing underneath it…"
The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
United States Navy fucking quiet.
Veronica said a word that would have, no doubt, pulled some commentary from the criminal in her backseat. Fortunately, she'd dropped him off at the station before coming home to find her Naval aviator missing in action.
Which was going to result in her missing quite a lot of action tonight, unfortunately.
Veronica said another, more creative swear word, and stalked across the kitchen to pour a glass of wine. Thought about it for a second, and then put the tiny glass back, went for a coffee mug. She took a sip, then followed the traces of Logan around the apartment.
First, the note on the counter in his surprisingly elegant handwriting.
Veronica,
I know, I know, they're assholes. Trust me, I think so, too.
This pulled a laugh out of her.
It's a training exercise, so we're only shipping out for a quick three days. The no-notice thing is apparently to test our deployment speed. Fortunately, I don't need to pack since I don't give a fuck if I smell pretty for the guys, so in lieu of getting my fresh underwear together, I spent the time finishing my present wrapping. If you enjoy any of them without me, please send pictures.
Since I'm going to be gone for Valentine's Day, I added a bonus present and booked you a 90-minute hot stone massage starting at 8 at the Trident Trinity Spa. If I can't get my hands on you on Valentine's Day, somebody should get to. Judging by the state of your shoulders last night, you could use the relaxation. Also, I left specific instructions that if you decide to work late and don't show, the money will be donated to that charity Big Dick just started for guys who had to pay too much alimony and could no longer afford their country club memberships. Choose carefully, Obi Mars Kenobi.
I love you. I'll make it up to you. (And look on the bright side, this way I'll never find out you lost track of the date and had no idea it was Valentine's Day, because you'll have three extra days to cover your tracks).
-L
She traced the looping L of his signature, just because she loved the shape of it. I won't tell if you won't. It was a good thing he was the only one who knew what a sap she was, because if there was anyone good at keeping a secret, it was high-security clearance, paparazzi-phobic Logan Echolls.
She was not in the mood to open her presents anymore, but the glittery, pony-printed tissue paper and giant gift bag waiting on the couch suckered her in. Petulantly, she ripped out a handful of tissue paper. Then another. By the fourth she was starting to smile despite herself. Logan always got a laugh out of how viciously she tore into the wrapping paper of any present she got. Apparently he'd gotten an extra-big gift bag this time just so he could enjoy her flinging tissue paper all over the living room.
A pang rang through her stomach at the idea that he hadn't gotten to see it. She had to pause mid-gift to go back for her coffee mug of wine. At the bottom of the bag, she found a bomber jacket of the butteriest, most perfectly deep-brown toned leather. She caught her breath. It was her favorite color of brown, the same as her jacket that had been ruined last week when a different bail jumper had thrown up on her.
Logan, at the time, had suggested it might been the natural result of her punching the guy in the stomach so hard.
Veronica had suggested the punch might have been the natural result of that guy suggesting she give up bounty hunting and get back in the kitchen.
Either way, the jacket hadn't made it through the altercation. She tugged on her new one—with its much more sophisticated cut—and sighed happily, casting a wistful glance toward her bag of lingerie by the door.
"Three days," she promised the handful of red lace. "And I think you'll pair quite nicely with my new bomber jacket."
She snapped a quick selfie to torment Logan with, then shrugged out of the jacket, pulling the tags off as she padded back to take a shower before her massage. No masseuse deserved to be subjected to a long day of chasing-bail-jumper sweat and lingering Taco Bell fumes.
Something on the bed caught her eye, and she smiled. Of course, he hadn't scattered it with rose petals that they'd both be too asleep to clean up by the time they were done. Instead, Logan had left a sin-black blindfold resting on the pillow. A feather. A long silk scarf. And a gift bag. Apparently he'd already started prepping for her return home before he got the call from the Navy.
"Hello, handsome…" she purred, crossing the room and tearing more tissue paper out to reveal…oh my.
It was a dildo. A vibrating dildo, of such elaborate shape and texture…she had to sit down on the floor and read the instructions for quite some time just to wrap her head around the dizzying array of functions and attachments the thing boasted. She broke an actual sweat reading page 3 of the manual.
When she got done, she gave a low wolf whistle. There was a significant chance this thing had cost more than her last car payment.
Although considering she was now a Navy girlfriend, a top of the line vibrator was really just a good family investment. Granted, Logan had just gotten back from his second deployment so he wouldn't be going out on the aircraft carrier for another year and a half, maybe two years. But that just meant there was plenty of time for him to teach her all the best ways to use this thing.
Logan had The Touch when it came to sex toys, and she could "practice makes perfect" all she wanted, but that man's creativity blew her home court advantage clean out of the water.
She patted the dildo gently and placed it in the side table. "I'd take you in the shower, big fella, but I think I'd rather wait until daddy gets home." She hesitated for a second, remembering his joke about sending pictures if she tested out her present. But then, no. That was one image she did not trust to the level of security she knew existed in the average cell phone.
She glanced back toward the living room, feeling guilty all over again about her half-assed present. Even Logan had known she was going to forget and have to come up with something last minute. How sad was that, when your boyfriend expected you to forget him? She didn't think he took it personally, and he'd even mentioned that he knew it was only because she'd lose track of the date—which she had, dammit—but still. Logan had been forgotten by too many of the important people in his life for that to sit well with her. And yeah, he was going out of town for the next three days. But that didn't mean he couldn't still have an epic Valentine's Day present.
Not that she really knew what that would be, just yet, but in the meantime, she could start on the complicated delivery logistics.
She dug out her phone and dialed Serena, the wife of Logan's best friend in his squadron. "Hey, I need your help."
"Yeah, why? Did you forget to get Logan a Valentine's present?"
"No!" She glared at the phone. "I just didn't get a chance to give it to him before he left." She paused, debating saying more.
"And once you saw what he left you, what you got didn't seem good enough anymore?" Serena supplied.
"You know, I would like you a lot more if you didn't know my boyfriend better than I did."
Serena was ex-Navy, and had served alongside Logan for years before Veronica even came back into the picture. She loved the other woman dearly, but even that didn't always quash the niggle of jealousy.
Serena laughed. "Nobody knows Logan like you do. But pretty much everyone knows he's a huge sucker when it comes to you, and that he's a huge sucker with an even huger wallet."
And just like that, Veronica knew what she needed to get him. She grinned.
"So, do you know where and when they're shipping out?"
"Yup. I overheard that they're flying, which means they'll probably jump a transport from base, and they've got briefings first, so they're not going wheels-up until 21:00."
Veronica stuffed her feet into her shoes, poured her mug of wine down the sink, and sent up a quick, mental apology for her massage money that was about to get donated to Big Dick's rich boy charity for bad ex-husbands. Then she did the quick mental translation from military time to civilian time.
"Fuck, that's after dark."
"Uh huh. So?"
Veronica quickly revised her plan. "So, how much seasonal spirit do you have in any given year, would you say? And do you know any apocalypse preppers?"
Serena laughed. "Veronica, you ask the strangest questions. I'll get my keys."
#
It took a lot of favors, a little cursing, and really a lot of violating speed limits, but at 21:00, Veronica was just finishing the last string of lights. She collapsed back in the sand and held up a tired hand for Serena to slap a high-five. A few feet away, Little Logan slept quietly in his carrier.
Veronica eyed him. "How is he sleeping through the noise of the generator?"
Serena shrugged. "That's why I had you turn it on early. He can sleep through anything, as long as it doesn't start in the middle of his nap."
"And you're certain he can't read yet?"
Serena gave her a little side-eye. "He's two."
Veronica nodded, and attempted to look like a person with knowledge of what ages kids did things at.
Serena laughed, stretching her tattooed arms out to each side of her in the sand. "Yeah, usually takes them a little longer to work up to the whole reading thing, sweetheart. Besides, he's going to learn that word sooner or later. Probably sooner with all these damn sailors running around our house."
"The guys at the gun range aren't much better."
Serena didn't take Little Logan to the gun range where she worked often, for obvious reasons, but Veronica privately thought he looked adorable in his little earmuff hearing protectors.
She stood up and hopped up and down a couple of times, trying to get high enough to be sure their words were shaped correctly.
"You're sure Aurelio won't forget to make Logan look out the window when they take off?"
"The man never forgets a thing," she said. "Just ask him about the time I put the wrong kind of soap in the dishwasher and it overflowed, back in 2009. Now sit down and have some wine." She popped the cork. "We earned it."
They sat back and watched the planes taking off overhead, toasting to the glowing letters spelled out in Christmas lights at their feet.
Yup, his dick really is bigger than all yours.
Echolls for President 2020
#
[Text message from Lt. Logan Echolls]
Sorry I didn't message sooner. I was pretty busy getting a lengthy lecture from my XO about helping my girlfriend to understand the dignity befitting the US Navy. Considered telling him you were so perfect any change in your behavior would be an affront to humanity. But then I calculated how long it would be until I could make you come again if I got myself thrown in the brig. Sir yes sir'ed instead. It's a good thing I have a lot of practice at not laughing while having my face yelled into.
By the way? Best. Present. Ever.
[Text Message from Veronica Mars, P.I.]
Oh, you say that, but you haven't seen this.
*image attached*
[Text message from Lt. Logan Echolls]
Stealing jet. Be home in 20.
THE END
Author's Note: Happy Valentine's Day! I hope all of you had a day full of love and friendship and chocolate. And if you didn't, at least now you had fanfic dick jokes ;)
I'm giving away free books on my Instagram today [at symbol] MichelleHazenAuthor so get in on that if you like. And PS if you're curious about the story behind how Serena & Aurelio's son got named Logan, that is in my fic Light Me Up.