Ok, how does this keep happening? I write one-shots, and they end up as multi-parters. Seriously.

Anyway, this is for ORy, who keeps persisting with a 'Veronica' sequel. I believe there was also a request in there for a Ryan/Veronica showdown? Hm...

Enjoy!

Veronica walked into her house, sighing wearily. She threw her purse onto the foyer table, making her way towards the kitchen. She needed a drink, and her heart was set on the bottle of vodka sitting in the fridge. She froze when she got to the kitchen.

A shirtless boy stood on the other side of kitchen island, facing away from her. He was leaning backwards, his arms on the counter holding him up, and he was breathing heavily.

"What the hell?" she snapped, annoyed. The boy's head turned to look at her – but she noted that the rest of his body stayed still.

"Shit," he breathed looking down at the floor in front of him – at what, Veronica couldn't tell because his lower half was hidden by the island. Wait… wasn't that the boy she had found in Taylor's closet? The boy from Chino? There was a movement from behind the island, and the boy bent forward slightly, and it looked like he was… zipping up his pants? Suddenly, her daughter popped up.

"Mother…" she stammered, hand wiping absently at her lips. Oh God.

"Jesus, Taylor," she huffed, storming over to the fridge, yanking it open, and closing her fist around the cold bottle of alcohol. The boy moved away, keeping the island between him and her, still slightly bent over. Taylor stayed where she was.

"I… um, I thought you were going to be gone all night…"

"And that gives you leave to act like a whore?" she shot back, grabbing a cup and pouring the clear liquid into it. She downed the thing in one go, looking her daughter up and down. "Although, maybe he's the whore, since I can't see anyone wanting you unless you paid them." She quirked an eyebrow triumphantly as her daughter sought a reply. She turned her gaze to the boy.

He was leaning forward against the counter, eyes shut tight and breath coming in heavy pants. He looked uncomfortable. She rolled her eyes, opening the freezer door and taking out an ice pack, which she slid across the counter. "You might need this," she smirked when he looked at her in horror. He was really a very good looking boy, especially with his shirt off…

"Taylor," he ground out, looking weakly at her daughter. "Maybe we should go…" he looked hopelessly desperate, and Taylor nodded.

"You're not going out. It's a school night," she spoke smoothly, grinning as she poured herself another drink. Her daughter looked at her angrily, and the boy shut his eyes again. "But Ryan – it is Ryan, right? – please, feel free to stay for dinner." She felt triumphantly giddy at the horror on both their faces. "I was thinking Korean."

The boy's head snapped up, "we'll go get it," he grunted hurriedly, snatching his shirt off the counter – she hadn't even noticed it there. He also grabbed his jacket, which he held in front of him – quite conveniently. Before she could protest, the boy had grabbed her daughters hand and dragged her out of the house.

Cold anger flowed through her veins at being thwarted. But, she thought, though she may have lost this little battle, she would not lose the war. So she picked up the phone, calling in their order.

After taking another drink, she still hadn't heard any car start up, so she went to look out the front window. His car was parked behind her daughter's, and she could see him in the driver's seat, head thrown back against the headrest. She couldn't see her daughter. Ugh, what a whore.

The boy was understandably more relaxed when they got back – what with her daughter giving him a happy in the car and all. They ate in silence, the two teenagers still very uncomfortable, her relaxed and calculating. She decided it was time to strike.

"So, Ryan," she purred his name, holding her drink to her lips. His head snapped up. "How much is my daughter paying you?" She flicked her gaze to the side to see her daughters face flush red, eyes down. She twitched, startled, when the boy slammed his utensils down. She was a little taken aback by the anger in his face.

"Look," he snarled, staring her down, "I've dealt with a lot of shitty parents in my life, but you," he laughed in contempt, "you really take the prize."

"Ryan…" Taylor's voice was a quiet protest, and she gazed at him pleadingly.

"No, Taylor," he told her daughter without breaking eye contact with her, "you're always saying how you wish you could tell her how you feel, so let's do it now."

Veronica folded her arms, looking over at her daughter. "And how do you feel?" she mocked. She waited as Taylor gathered her courage.

"Well," the girl started off slowly, voice low and trembling. What a baby. "It's just… you're always so mean to me…" she broke off, gaze dropping to her plate, picking at her nails.

"Taylor." The boy's voice was surprisingly commanding, and she looked at him appraisingly. He didn't seem to be scared of her. She looked back at her daughter, and she was shocked when the girl's head rose, shoulders straightening.

"You always tell me how fat I am, and how I'm ugly and unpopular," the girl's voice got stronger with each word. "But I'm not. And I'm not stupid either. I always get good grades, and I'm the head of the theater department and the debate team. I have a lot of responsibility at school, and… and people like me." Veronica snorted. "It's true," the girl continued, getting angry now. "I have friends. I'm a good person. I've tried all my life to make you happy, but nothing's ever good enough. I don't understand why you always have to be such a… a bitch!" The girl's eyes went wide, and her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my God," she whispered, horrified.

"Excuse me?" her voice was icy cold, venom dripping from each syllable. Who the hell did her daughter think she was?

"You heard her," the boy was back in the ring, eyes flashing a warning. He pushed his plate away from him. "Come on, Taylor," he stood up, "let's go."

"I already told you, she's not going…"

"Save it," the boy snapped, grabbing her stunned daughter's arm, and hauling her out into the foyer. Veronica stood up and stormed after them. "…get your coat," the boy was saying softly, and Taylor nodded, climbing the stairs to her room.

"I could have you arrested for kidnapping," she glared at the boy who was defying her. He whirled on her, controlled rage radiating from every inch of him. Despite her experience with pissed off people, she was actually a little afraid.

"I want you to leave her alone," he ordered, and she started to laugh at his audacity. He continued talking, cutting her off. "She's your daughter, for fuck's sake. So if you can't at least act like a decent human being around her, than just leave her alone."

"How dare-"

"No, I've had it with bad parents. My father was an alcoholic convict who used to hit me when things didn't go his way, and my mother was an alcoholic gambler who let her boyfriends use me as a punching bag. But you… you don't even pretend to be sorry when you beat the life out of her."

Taylor came down the steps with a coat and an overnight bag. The boy pulled on a leather jacket, then wrapped his arm protectively around her daughter, taking the bag out of her hand. She made no move to stop them as they headed out the door.

"Oh," the boy paused, looking over his shoulder at her, "you shouldn't find leaving her alone too difficult. She won't be coming around here that often anymore."

Veronica stood in the foyer even after the door slammed behind the two teenagers.

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