Veronica

"So the magazines all agree that we should have a colour scheme and patterns in mind when shopping." I pull a shopping cart from the corral and spin it around towards Logan, then stop. He's frowning at our list before we even start.

"How about orange plaid?"

"No. Try again."

"Hey! In the taxi you said you wanted my opinion."

"And I got it. And now you have mine. No orange plaid. If you were laying on the bed in that shirt I'd never find you."

He opens his jacket and looks down at his orange plaid shirt. Closing it again, he shrugs. "I see nothing wrong with that."

I can't help it as my eyes roll and I shake my head, but I manage to hold back my snicker. "I don't even know what the selection will be like at this store. Just because it's the biggest, doesn't mean they have the best selection. It just means they have a lot of people buying from them so their selection may be tiny."

Glancing at the signs, I decide to push the cart in the direction of the bedroom department, in the hope of coming up with a decorating scheme based on our pick for a new comforter. Logan follows beside me, looking down each aisle as we pass.

My mother often mutters about what we can and cannot find when we go shopping. When she was a child, there were stores everywhere, with every product imaginable. If you wanted a side table lamp, you had dozens of options in stores, in varying heights, shapes, and colours. Now, we were lucky if we had five to choose from. All trade and production was now tightly controlled by the government by approved manufacturers not associated with the old regimes. But apparently the downfall of capitalism meant that coordinating a room got harder. Some of my mother's friends would still complain about it, twenty years later. They had free healthcare and adequate roofs over their head and schooling for their children, but they still missed the opportunity to buy and return three sets of dishes before deciding on ones that worked with their decor.

Turning down the bedding aisle, I'm pleasantly surprised by the selection along the wall. Chicago being a larger centre must have allocations for better supplies. Neptune was considerably lower on the food chain.

Rolling to a stop, we gaze back and forth down the aisle. In front of us stretches a variety of plain white duvets, covers, and comforters. Behind us are sheets and pillowcases in a mishmash of colours and patterns, as well as accent pillows. There is almost too much choice and my heart pounds at the prospect of a decision.

"This one looks nice." Logan lifts a large bag containing an orange and pink pattern of giant poppies splashed across a white background. "See. That was easy."

Stepping up to the bag, I read the label. "This is for a king sized bed. And it's way too bright a pattern. Let's go with something more subdued."

He shrugs and stuffs the bag back on the shelf. "Fine. I'll look for subdued."

"And maybe a duvet and cover instead of a comforter. That way we can wash the cover if it gets dirty."

"Well, things can get dirty in bed…" Logan wiggles his eyebrows at me and I shake my head and laugh.

"Yeah. Especially since I like eating cheesy puffs in bed while I read."

He wrinkles his nose in disgust and steps back. "Gross! Although I feel that orange is the clear winner for colour then. We won't see any stains from your terrible habits."

Carrying on down the aisle without him or the cart, I pause in front of a grey duvet cover, with a bold pattern of willow branches spreading up and across the grey in black and white. I check to make sure it's a double and pick it up to show Logan.

"Here. How about this one? Neutral but natural."

Logan's face scrunched. "It's dull."

"It's not dull. It's...contemporary." At least I think that's the word the magazine used.

He walks closer and reaches across me to grab another duvet package off the shelf. The picture on the front shows a pattern of varying black circles filled in with shades of blue and grey.

"Too busy."

"What? It's not. It's contemporary."

"It's loud contemporary. I like subdued contemporary."

Another couple pushing a cart come around the corner and I peek around Logan's body to get a better look. I get a rush of excitement when I realize that I recognize them.

"Hey! You guys go to Ginsberg University too." The words come out a little too high and excited and I make a note to tone it down as I walk over to them.

At first they both frown at me before a big smile passes across the man's mahogany face. "That's right. You guys were on the bus behind us. I'm Wallace Fennel…." He steps around his cart and extends his hand to me. "And this is my partner, Jackie Cook."

"Hi!" She waves with a smile. Her bronze skin is radiant and all I can think about is how true the statement pregnant glow is right now because she looks truly stunning, even in this awful fluorescent light.

"I'm Veronica Mars and this is my partner, Logan Echolls." I shake Wallace's hand and Logan comes over and does the same, settling in beside me. His hand presses against my coat at the small of my back and I glance up at him and grin.

"We saw you guys are in the campus Family Houses. Congratulations."

Jackie's hand moves to her stomach and when she presses on her sweater I see a bump appear. "Thank you. We're pretty excited."

"I want enough kids to start a baseball team." Wallace slaps his hands together and runs them together, chuckling.

"But since that's not going to happen…" Jackie laughs. "This is baby #1 of hopefully, eventually two."

"Wow. You guys have it all planned, huh?" Logan runs the back of his neck. "That's great."

"Well, we're pretty lucky," Wallace states as he walks back over to Jackie, wrapping his arm around her waist and kissing the side of her head. "I didn't know Jackie before this, but when we sat down to talk about our union, before we accepted the match, we found out we had similar ideas about how we wanted our partnership to go, so it just worked."

"So, how long have you guys been partnered then...if you don't mind me asking?" Logan says.

"Only four months, but you know, when it's right, it's right." Wallace gives Jackie an affectionate squeeze and a tight smile crosses her face. "How about you guys? When will you be joining us in family housing?"

"Um, we'll come and visit when you have the baby?" Sarcasm. My greatest defense. And this would be the time to deploy it.

Everyone laughs and Logan slides his arm further around my waist.

"Veronica and I are on a pretty intense track. She's on course to becoming a lawyer and eventually a judge. I'm in the political stream."

"Oh! That's great, man. So am I!" Wallace grins. "Jackie is in the business and fashion design streams."

"Wow! Double major and a baby?" I gasp. Truly feeling inadequate at the moment.

"Well, I want to open my own boutique eventually so I figured this was the best way to go. Become a government supplier for things other than what the world drops in our laps."

"See! Canada's castoffs! Just like I said." Logan points at Jackie and chuckles.

"I know you like that joke but you've used it too many times for it to still be funny." My hand lands on his chest and I pause as I look up at him and toss him a wink. "To me, anyway."

"It is funny," Jackie states with another laugh. "But only once."

My eyes lock with Logan's for a moment, a tiny flutter of happiness flies through my body and I'm overcome with the sense that this all feels right. It feels right to be with him. It feels right to banter with another couple. It feels right to be here, arguing with him about duvet covers.

"But seriously. You should visit us before the baby comes. Why don't you come over for dinner next weekend." Wallace runs his hand over his thick afro of hair. "I'll even cook."

"That may not sell the invitation, Wallace." Jackie sighs.

"We'd love to come. Thanks for the invitation," Logan says. "I assume we're going to have some classes together, so I'll get your number from you this week. In the dark, all of the houses looked alike."

Wallace offers his hand to Logan again and they shake as Jackie takes up her post behind the shopping cart.

"I'm looking forward to it. Happy shopping to you both. We'll see you around."

We wait as they walk past us before disappearing at the end of the aisle, probably on their way to the baby bedroom section around the corner.

"Look at us, adulting." Logan muses. "Shopping for things for our home and making dinner plans with other couples."

"It did feel very adult-y. But it was nice to see another couple. They look like they're really happy together."

"Yeah. They do. I hope they fall in love, one day."

"Wait. What?" I drop my hand from around his waist and glance down the aisles, making sure no one else is around and lower my voice. "What do you mean by that?"

"You get that they're not 'in love,' right?" Logan arches his eyebrow. "They just got partnered and chose to have a baby. There's no way they met and fell in love that fast."

"Why on earth would you say that?" I hiss. "They're having a baby together. Of course they're in love."

Logan arches his eyebrow at me and licks his lips, as if shocked into silence at what I've said.

"You think sex is about love, don't you?"

My mouth goes dry as my heart speeds up. Dad's voice in my head when I was a child, answering my never ending questions about life: We fell in love and had you. My mother later on asserting, of course your father and I love each other...we had you.

As my cheeks heat up, I turn away from Logan, realizing now how wrong I may be.

"Veronica." His hand gasps my arm and I stop as he steps closer. I feel his breath on my cheek as he leans in behind me, speaking low. "Is this why you're so upset about me and Lilly?"

Tears well behind my lids and I blink them away. Not only am I a prude, I'm a goddamn fool. Of course this was what it was about. Love. I thought that I would be paired with someone and we would instantly fall in love and have sex, not the other way around. That's why I didn't balk at the suggestion of a chaste relationship with Logan—because he's not in love with me.

And he's right. He's so very, very right. Standing here in the middle of a department store aisle, he's delivering a harsh truth under bad lighting: if Logan and Lilly were having sex, I thought they loved each other. Whether this makes things better or worse now, I still don't know.

Dismissively waving my hand, I twist away from his grasp, walking towards the white duvets near the end of the aisle. "That cover will be fine. Throw it in the cart. I'll grab a duvet with a winter weight."

When I turn to inspect duvet bags, I catch a glimpse of Logan in my peripheral vision, standing alone in the middle of the aisle, staring back at me.

This isn't the time for this. Not here. Not right now.

Logan

I've let her have her quiet. The rest of the shopping trip was filled with long silences between discussions of which lamps would fit on the side tables and whether we wanted an alarm that would wake us to music or incessant beeping or both. I didn't push for conversation or explanation and just gave Veronica the space she seemed to so desperately need. I did manage to get a smile and an eye roll from her when I dropped to my knees and pretended to beg her for a big screen television instead of the necessities and I took it as a small but important victory, considering her mood.

It took us some time to lug all of our bounty upstairs, dodging other people on the staircase and in the halls. While she began setting everything up, I ran over to the cafeteria and brought us back dinner—burgers and fries— which she thanked me for, then proceeded to eat while organizing the room and her things. I decided that the best place for me was putting away my belongings in the drawers and closet, and setting up the kitchen with our new coffee maker and dishes, leaving the decorating to the person who actually cared. We orbited each other in the small space, continuing on our paths but making sure not to get too close. Every once in a while, she would ask my opinion and I would try to offer some words that made her think I cared about where we kept the towels or the position of the lamps. But I mainly kept my head down and stayed out of the way as she worked. I've moved on to organizing my desk when her voice breaks my concentration.

"There. All done."

I look up and she's standing back by the kitchen, hands on hips, smiling as she takes in her handiwork. I follow her gaze and see that our bed is now a focal point with our new bold blue and grey circular patterned duvet spread over it, the soft grey Jersey-knit pillows on top as accents and the ugly grey blanket that once covered it now folded neatly at the foot. The brushed-silver lamps are on and they give the room a warm glow through the blue column shades. We managed to find thick blue denim curtains and the contrast with the white brick walls and blinds make for a dramatic effect over the windows. Two beige wicker laundry baskets now sit side by side near our dressers and a full length mirror hangs on the back of the bathroom door. The final touch is a large, cheap canvas picture of a field of bluebells hung on the only non-brick wall over the cafe table.

The crooked smile of pride stretched across her lips makes me smile as well and I stand, walking around and taking everything in.

"You did a great job. It actually feels like a home."

"It does, doesn't it?"

Coming over to stand beside her, I take one more quiet glance around. Home was never a happy place for me, but here, in this space, I can't help but be hopeful that maybe this home will be different.

"Thank you."

Veronica's forehead wrinkles. "For what?"

"For this. I would have never thought to do anything different with what they gave us. So thank you for making our place so...so…"

"Warm." She wraps her arm around mine. "It feels warm now. And inviting. Less like a prison cell and more like home."

"Yeah. That's it."

Silence falls between us as we both focus on the room again. My eyes linger on the bed and I'm consumed with thoughts of laying snuggled under the soft covers with her. Not my usual sexy thoughts of her that's for sure. Knowing her true feelings about sex have completely put the brakes on my lascivious desires. She wants more, that much is clear. I just don't know if she can have what she wants from me.

"I'm sorry I was so crass about Wallace and Jackie's relationship. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No. It's fine. It's good, actually. A good wakeup call for me." She toes the dingy grey carpet, looking away. "These teenage dreams of what this partnership should or should not be need to give way to the reality of our situation."

"And what do you see as our situation?"

Veronica shrugs, raising her eyes to mine. "That we're basically rabbits in a big government experiment. We're fed, we're clothed, we're educated, we're partnered—all in a very large cage. We're monitored, tested, rated. And as romantic as they may have made partnering sound, in the end most of us are just breeders for the greater good. Whether we have children or not, we all are being bred ourselves to execute some great plan, set upon us by a computer."

The rose coloured glasses have smashed. Standing there, eyes wide with newfound knowledge, Veronica stares back at me, a mixture of sorrow and fear on her face. I take her hand and it twitches slightly in my grasp as I bring it to my chest, holding it to my heart.

"That may be so, Veronica. But maybe we were meant to change it. Orwell put us on our paths for a reason. Maybe it put us together for that same reason. I really don't know. All I can hope is that if you and I can figure out how to not only be partners in name, but partners in life, that it will somehow all work out."

She presses her palm softly against my chest and I close my eyes, imagining her touch radiating like fragments of electricity through my nerves. When I open my eyes, she's closer, staring up at me in silent questioning. As my hand reaches to cup her cheek, she gasps, her lips staying open, trembling. Lowering myself to her, she closes her eyes as my lips brush hers, ever so gently before retreating.

Veronica's features soften as she opens her eyes and they sparkle in a way I've never seen before. Her teeth drag over her bottom lip as a grin pushes at her cheeks.

"Again."

Raising my other hand to cradle her cheek, she rises on her tiptoes to meet me halfway between our heights.

"If you insist," I tease before my lips are on hers again, putting an end to all conversation.

God, her lips are so unbelievably soft, even when pressed firmly against mine. I open my mouth a crack, sweeping my tongue between them, the taste of vanilla chapstick filling my senses. When her lips part, I drop my hands to her waist, pulling her against me, my tongue seeking a deeper connection to her. Her tongue brushes mine and a low hum of contentment resonates through her. When her fingers creep up the back of my neck and thread through my hair, an involuntary moan of desire rumbles in my chest and she giggles, the sound getting caught in my mouth.

There's a sharp knock and I freeze, fear rippling through me. It takes a second for my brain to catch up with the feeling that I've been caught doing something I shouldn't and I ease my lips away from Veronica with a groan, pressing my forehead to hers.

"You'll visit me in prison when I murder whoever is on the other side of that door, right?"

"Maybe they'll let us share a cell if I help bury the body?"

We both laugh, and fuck, does it feel good as all the tension releases from my body. She lowers herself and wipes her lips with her fingers, stepping away. Her eyes shoot to my fly and back up to my eyes and, Jesus Christ, I'm hard.

Veronica's nose wrinkles as she winks at me, placing her hand on my shoulder when she saunters past. "I better answer the door."

"Good plan," I reply, adjusting the bulge in my pants before sitting in the chair, hoping to hide the protrusion under the table.

I hear a huff of annoyance in the hallway before the door opens.

"Hey, Duncan! Hey, dude I don't know!" Her tone gives away exactly how pissed off she is and I snicker.

"Hi, Veronica! Just wanted to stop by and say 'hi' to you guys. Hope you don't mind...I got your room number from campus services."

"Come on in, Donut!" I holler. "See how Veronica prettied up the place."

Duncan steps into the space followed by a tall, shaggy-haired dude in a homemade band t-shirt.

"This is Piz, my roommate. Piz, this is my best friend, Logan." Veronica squeezes past them and into the room, coming straight over to stand behind my chair. "And this is Veronica. She's best friends with my sister, Lilly."

The dude waves and smiles at us, his eyes lingering a little too long on Veronica for my liking. I decide he's not worth getting up for so I nod my head at him instead, just to acknowledge his existence.

"Nice room you've got here. A lot like ours. Except we have two single beds instead of one."

Duncan is frowning at our bed and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Get over it, Donut.

"Thanks. We had some money given to us by family so we decided to make it more homey." Veronica's hand lands on my shoulder and all the negative thoughts about Duncan magically disappear. "So Piz, what program are you in?"

"Broadcasting and journalism. I want to do the hard-hitting stuff eventually but right now, I've been doing more fun writing about local bands and such." He starts to wander around our room, looking over our stuff and I'm overcome with the urge to tell him to leave our shit alone. But I don't.

"I did a piece about the pre-war punk scene and how it's lost its edge in the past twenty years. It was picked up nationally by the Terra Times. Maybe you read it?"

Veronica and I exchange glances and she smiles kindly at him. "Must have missed reading the paper that day."

Piz gives us a tight smile and steps back to Duncan, nodding at him, and they exchange a look that I can't quite place, but makes me uneasy.

Faking a yawn, I stretch my arms out in a wide V above my head. "Well, thanks for the visit, guys, but I think Veronica and I are almost ready to turn in. It was a late night last night, and with shopping and setting up and…"

Duncan holds up his hand to stop me. "Sure. We get it. Just wanted to stop by and say 'hi.'" He smiles at Veronica. "I guess I'll see you in class on Monday?"

"Yes! Bright and early!"

Standing, I open my arms to corral Duncan and Piz towards the door. "Let's all grab lunch together tomorrow before orientation. Around noon in the cafeteria?" I offer as the two make their way to the door. "Veronica and I should be up by then."

"Yeah. Sure." Duncan's back is turned but I can hear the tightness in his voice and I stifle a sigh. One day, he'll get over this.

They both walk into the hallway and I tip a quick two-finger salute to them. "Great! See you guys then."

Without waiting for a response, I close the door, locking it for the night behind them. Pressing my palm to the door, I take a second to regroup. Where were we before hurricane Duncan blew through? Oh, right, I was in the middle of kissing my partner. Smiling to myself, I turn on my heels to find Veronica going through her drawers, pulling out her sleepwear. She looks up and smiles shyly, a subtle pink rising in her cheeks.

"I'm going to get ready for bed. In the bathroom." She jerks her thumb towards the door and I nod.

"Okay. I'll get in after you."

"Okay."

Veronica bites her lip and looks away, scurrying past me to the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

Leaning against the corner of the kitchen wall, I shake my head. I'm not sure what she has going on in her mind right now, but I hope that when she says bed, she means something else may happen. Something more.

Veronica

I can't stop rolling around. Waiting for Logan, my nerves are vibrating at such a high RPM that I can't stop moving around the bed. Should I get on his side? In the middle? Stick to my side? Laying flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, feels weirdly clinical so I roll on my side and focus on the shadows in the light coming from under the bathroom door.

It's pitch black in the rest of the room with the lights off and the drapes drawn and when the door to the bathroom opens it nearly blinds me. I make out that he's in his sweats and a t-shirt and the sight of him clothed kind of disappoints me.

The lights go out and his figure disappears into the darkness and even though I'm under our new thick bedding, goosebumps spring across my skin in anticipation.

"Marco," he whispers from beside the bed.

"Polo," I reply and scoot over to the middle, rolling to face his side.

There's a rush of cool air as he pulls back the covers and climbs inside, trapping the warmth back in. Raising the blanket slightly, he opens his arms and he's close enough that I can see his smile.

"Come and join me on this side."

Excitement flutters through me and I wiggle into his arms, placing my head on his pillow, so close that our noses nearly touch. The scent of his peppermint toothpaste makes my nose tickle and I can't help but giggle as he wraps his arms around me and pulls my body flush with his.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Is this okay?" His hand appears from under the covers, his fingers gliding along my cheek to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear and I shiver at the contact.

"More than okay."

Logan continues to stroke my hair and it feels so good I almost purr with contentment. Can I ask him to do this every night? Will he think I'm a freak?

"Should we return to the activities we were undertaking before we were so rudely interrupted?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Veronica...if you don't…"

"No. I mean yes. Yes! Sorry. I was a little overly focused on how good it feels when you stroke my hair."

"Well, that's a relief." He chuckles. "No to kissing, yes to petting your head."

"Logan…"

"I'm teasing, Veronica."

"Thanks. I can't really tell in the dark." I close my eyes and yawn, continuing to focus on his gentle touch.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Hmmmm?" is my best response.

"Was that the first time anyone ever kissed you?"

My eyes are open again, alert and focused on his face. I've started to adjust to the darkness and I can make out the earnestness in his features.

"Has anyone ever kissed me? Why yes...my dad...my mom...my great aunt Sylvia to name a few. But has anyone kissed me like you did? No. Definitely not."

That jackass smirk of his crosses his face, deep lines creasing his cheeks. "Can I ask you another question then?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"Do you love me? And not as a friend. Can you say, at this moment, that you're in love with me?"

My words catch in my throat as my mind twists and turns over the variables. Do I care if Logan lives or dies? Yes. Am I glad he was chosen as my partner now? Most definitely. But do I love him, deep down in my heart? The only answer I have is the most honest one.

"I...I don't know...I mean, I've never been in love, so I can't say. Is that bad?"

Logan's hand pauses before resuming its natural path along my hair and he shakes his head.

"No. Not at all. I wouldn't expect you to be. Not now. Not after only three days. But I have another proposal, one that updates our last proposal."

"Are you sure you weren't meant to be a lawyer?"

"Veronica…"

"Yes. Fine. What is the second article of our partnership agreement, Logan?"

"My update is permissions for more."

"Permissions for more what?"

Logan's hand lingers for a moment behind my head before it takes a new path, slowly dragging his fingers back across my cheek, his thumb coming to rest just below my lower lip.

"Permission for more kissing. Permission to kiss you good night, not on the head but on the lips. Permission to kiss you goodbye in front of people. Permission to randomly kiss you whenever the opportunity presents itself."

His thumb strokes back and forth down my chin and I'm overwhelmed with the thought of taking it between my teeth the next time he passes close enough. This simple little act sends warmth radiating through my core and I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation.

"I like that. A lot."

"Good. Because I'm thinking that maybe, if you give me permission for these things now, then maybe one day, you will be in love with me, and we can go further."

"That's even better." I open my eyes, seizing my opportunity to bring myself closer to him.

When his lips meet mine this time, my body responds with need and I press myself closer to him, tossing my leg over his hip. As his lips part to take me deeper, his hand slips under the covers, cradling my ass and pulling my hips to his. He grows hard against me and my pulse begins to race, imagining what he may look like underneath those sweatpants. HIs tongue sweeps through my mouth and I moan into his as our tongues connect. My heart is screaming at me to let him touch me in all manner of ways, but my brain puts a stop to it, reminding me that this is all he wants, for now. And truthfully, it's what I want too.

I rock back from him, my leg dropping down and he pulls his head further away, taking a deep breath as if to regain control of himself.

"Logan? Do you love me?"

His eyebrow quirks as a smile pulls across his face, obviously amused by the timing of my question.

"Can I be honest? And you won't get upset?"

"Yes. What is it?"

Pursing his lips, he stares at me for a moment, as if contemplating how to break this to me as gently as possible.

"I've only ever had one person who has loved me in my life—my mother. So truthfully, I don't think I even know what love is."

"Oh."

My heart squeezes in my chest and I don't know if it's because I just learned that Logan doesn't think his father loves him, or that he's not madly and passionately in love with me. But my head reminds my heart once again, that it's only been three days since we've been together.

"I'm sorry," he whispers.

"Don't be sorry. I'm glad you're being honest. Maybe, in time, we can figure out what love is like, together." My hand finds his under the covers and I squeeze it tightly.

"That sounds like a good plan."

Leaning towards him, I plant a soft kiss on his lips, lingering for a moment to enjoy the pressure of his firm skin on mine and the glorious tingling that runs down my body.

Before he can take our kiss further, I pull away and roll towards the other side, taking his hand with me as I turn. Logan responds by pushing his other arm under our pillow, shuffling closer to me so his body stretches along mine. Closing my eyes, I let out a deep, satisfied sigh when our bodies connect and he does the same. He kisses the back of my head again and I smile at the fact that we've already established a little bedtime routine.

"Permission for one more thing?"

"What's that?"

"Permission to let me continue to make Duncan think we're having all sorts of wild, kinky sex?" he murmurs close to my ear.

I pause in the stillness of the room, contemplating his request. Duncan and his tantrum. Duncan and his passive aggressive behaviour. Duncan tracking us down in our room. Any thoughts that Duncan would be civil and let his jealousy drop are obviously not going to happen anytime soon. So if he was determined to make our lives miserable…

"Permission granted."