"It's decent enough," she mumbled in response.
Logan smiled, fighting the urge to make some quip about her being the spoiled one now. Her furrowed brow as she stared out the window had him thinking twice.
"It's not the thread count, is it?" He stepped closer behind her as she stayed transfixed at the view of the bedroom window. He chose not to point out the fact that their new condo was a one-bedroom unit with one very large but very solitary bed.
She sighed, hands folded. "Full-length windows aren't exactly as secure as worn wallpaper."
"At least it's thicker?" He offered limply.
She scoffed softly. "There's only one layer of tint."
He nodded, concluding she wasn't exactly in a joking mood.
"If we close the curtains all the time," she continued of her own accord as her left hand flew to the blackout drapes, "it'll still look suspicious."
"It'll look like we're having a lot of sex." He wanted to slap his own mouth the very moment the sentence ended.
She, surprisingly, laughed. "Even then - two months tops and it'll look stupid."
"Even with - "
"Even with you, Logan."
He smiled shyly when she turned around to look at him with a smile of her own. Then he laughed a little. "Too bad we have those pesky things called jobs, huh? No 24-7 honeymoons for Luke and Vanessa."
The comment, meant in jest, cast a dark cloud over her face that replaced her smile with another frown. She sighed loudly. "I'm sorry, I tried."
Tried?
He ventured a hand on her shoulder. She didn't pull away. "Hey, what's wrong? I don't think you did anything - "
"The names," she heaved, frown deepening, "they said that's there no proof Liam knew, and I mean with new jobs and a new condo, it's still - "
"Hey, hey, hey," he rushed to comfort her, "no one said we needed new names, right? We're in a new city, Veronica. He's not gonna find us."
"But he did!" Her eyes jump up to meet his. Her usually piercing blue irises looked scattered, flustered. "We were in the middle of nowhere, and he still found us. What's stopping him? He's probably got your phone bugged."
"Not when I have a superagent girlfriend to make sure he doesn't."
Her shoulders relaxed a tiny tad under his hands. He leaned closer. "No one - and I mean no one - is ever going to hurt either of us, okay? We've been through too much - too much chaos, too much bloodshed."
She perked up at the line, eyes glistening.
"The universe has got to give some time."
The back of her neck hit the edge of the cushion as she threw back her head. He looked down to meet her eye. Still staring up at him, she heaved a heavy sigh.
"Yeah?" He nudged her shoulder with his knee.
She shrugged.
He gestured at the latest Rose Ceremony playing on the small screen. The old-fashioned tube struck wide contrast against the minimalistic, modern finishings. "Upset he cut the female cop?"
She smiled a little. She poked a thumb towards her chest. "Not a fan of sexism."
"Really? Couldn't tell."
That got her smiling more. "Considering who insisted on decorating this place, I'd bet you're not a fan either."
He chuckled. "We really could use those paintings, you know."
"And get the inspector accusing us of misusing public funds? No thank you." She pushed herself off the carpet and up on the seat beside him. "It ain't that bad, Echolls."
"No, it ain't." He smiled. Heaven knew how much he'd enjoyed the past week. "Besides, chopping vegetables lets me indulge my violent tendencies better than dusting tables."
She laughed, smiling widely. Her hands tucked her feet tightly under her. "Guess I'd take clerkin' over ringing up condoms any day too."
He was suddenly very glad there was no drink in his mouth at the moment. He nodded instead, smiling.
"No more fast-expiring freebies for us, unfortunately." He relaxed against the back of the couch. He turned and smirked at her, weighing his odds. With a blink, he risked it. "I could've used some of those free condoms."
She chuckled brightly, head shaking. "I doubt WITSEC would like their wards screwing around."
"Ah, that's unfortunate." He cocked his head. "Guess we won't be having any threesomes anytime soon."
Veronica made a disgusted face, eyes still glistening, obviously in on the joke. "Impatient, aren't we?"
He frowned. "Impatient?"
"Convince me of the twosome first - then work on the extracurriculars." Her smile, sly and wicked, showed how much she knew her words affected him.
Goodness, Veronica.
He swallowed whatever fluid he had in his very dry mouth. He looked away, willing away his burgeoning erection.
"Hey."
Her soft voice brought him back. He turned to face her.
"I'm sorry if that was out of line." She looked sincere enough. Her right hand landed on his left knee. "I just - we can take our time, right?"
If you say so.
He inhaled deeply - and smiled.
"Of course." He placed his left hand over hers. The fact that she wasn't assuming he'd be a man whore at the first opportunity was huge. "Not much virtue left to protect here though."
She laughed, genuine and happy, and squeezed his knee. "Right - like I could corrupt you."
"I don't know," he spoke teasingly, "FBI locker rooms could be very educating, I'd imagine."
"More like traumatizing."
"Should I call my therapist for you?"
"Handing me off to someone else already? I knew you had your eyes on Sierra."
"Sierra?"
"Hot Sierra Gutierrez? Receptionist who beams at you each and every time? I'm surprised her eyes don't fall out."
Jealous?
He tempered his grin to an acceptable degree. "She's fine - tolerable. But, you know, too dark, too tall, too brunette."
He turned and winked.
She rewarded him with a deep blush and a full lean. "Defensive?"
"Never."
"Tempted?"
"Not a bit."
"Flattered?"
"Only by you."
The smile she offered him drew him closer.
"Besides," he spoke gently, one hand fingering the stray hair around her ears, "can't have you bored around here. My girlfriend deserves one hundred percent of my attention."
"She sounds high maintenance." She leaned forward, inches from his face.
"But totally worth it."
And he pressed his smile against hers.
"Come on. I swear you'll like it!"
She let him pull her to the kitchen area as he barged forward. She frowned at the huge box.
Public funds, dude, public funds.
"Went on a shopping spree?" She wandered closer to the island counter once he'd let her wrist go.
"Thought we needed a new hobby - can't have the great Agent Mars bored around here." He was grinning, silly and boyish and excited.
She smiled a little, stepping closer to inspect the box.
Guess I have been pretty bored.
"Pasta maker?" She read, taken aback.
"The electric type too. No winding the handle till your shoulder dislocates." Still grinning, he started ripping tape and pulling flaps. "Got all the supplies lined up."
Distracted by the new contraption, she only noticed the brown paper bags now - the very, very many paper bags. She pivoted around the island to peek inside. Her eyes grew wide as she felt an unexpected wave of bemusement.
"Are we franchising Luigi's?" She motioned at the endless sacks and trays.
He turned to her, face solemn. "We could if you want to."
Really?
She nudged with with a grin. "I'm kidding! Line cook won't become executive chef in a while."
"You doubt my skills?" He gestured sadly, hand to chest, in a move of overacted sorrow.
"Never let be said that I underestimated the multitalented Logan Echolls."
That earned her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Ah, I knew you were a keeper."
"Gotta prove the Sunset Regent reception wrong, right?"
She'd intended the comment lightly - not expecting the smoldering look he'd send her way in response. The weight of the shared memory, of tears and hugs and genuine connection, suddenly hung about the kitchen like the atmosphere of a stuffy, summer room.
For the past two days, these looks have happened often - too often. She knew what came next.
She knew he'd grab her by the shoulders, and she'd lean in to kiss him. She knew his hands would roam down her back, while hers climbed up his chest. She knew the heat, the passion, and the electricity would build up to a crucial point - before she backed away right before second base.
Second base. I sound like I'm in high school.
She broke the gaze before he touched her, and he promptly looked away.
It's not that I don't want to.
She bit her lip. She knew the problem, knew it perfectly well.
Her hands fingered the paper bags absent-mindedly. She knew where all that passion went - where it culminated in physical, mental, and emotional fireworks. She knew what the next round of heated kisses would lead to, and she was perfectly fine with that.
But how about the morning after?
How prepared was she to take the plunge across a line she'd never get to retreat from again? And how long would this connection last past Liam Fitzpatrick's arrest?
"Hey."
She turned around, meeting a gaze much more tender, though just as intimate, as before.
"You wanna try this baby out or not?"
She smiled and nodded.
"By the time we finish rolling these out, I'd be a whittled down to a wisp." She complained, tone teasing. Her supportive stomach growled audibly in agreement. "See what I mean?"
"Good thing they only take five minutes to cook then." The way Logan guarded the machine as it spouted beautiful strands of fettuccine was both endearing and disconcerting. "Hang in there."
"I'll prep the water." She clapped the flour off her hands before heading for the sink.
"Yeah," he muttered casually, eyes trained on the yellow strips.
For a moment, she felt oddly overlooked in favor of pasta.
Stop with the jealous streak, girl.
She sighed as her hands hit the warm water. She scrubbed the stray pieces of clunky flour off her knuckles. As the one who'd insisted on making three batches in one go, she had no right to complain.
Her eyes flew back to Logan as she dried her hands on the amber-colored towel.
Then why does this feel so bad?
If Logan had been choosing for himself, the kitchen contraption of choice wouldn't have been a pasta machine - she knew that much. He'd done it for her; there was no other possibility.
Then why do I feel - unwanted?
Her eyes trailed Logan's arms, the perfect blend of general strength and precise control, to the hands he's using to smooth out the next sheet of pasta. She noted how he'd managed to get them to make perfect pasta from the very first try.
Then again, He'd always had talented hands.
For cooking or otherwise.
She shook her head, dissipating the thought.
"You okay?"
She twitched at the comment, surprised he'd notice her little trance. She offered a small smile a few seconds late. "Yeah."
He cocked his head to the side, face inquisitive. "Sure?"
Might as well make up something.
She gestured towards his powdered red apron. "Snowing in the fall, huh?"
He gave himself a once-over, then grinned. "You're not doing much better, you know?"
"Yeah, sure." She answered thoughtlessly, only looking down after she's said so. She could feel her cheeks burn - cuz dammit, those handprints sure looked perfect on her waist.
And to think it'd only been a passing touch.
"My hands snow," Logan joked lamely. "They got a Greek god for that, right? Don't they for everything?"
She scoffed lightly, smiling. "Really? That's your clever comeback?"
"It's better than yours."
Yeah.
"Yeah," she acknowledged, sighing. Her hands resting together on the counter behind her, she leaned back. "Sorry."
"What's wrong?"
Then he was hovering again, eyes burning into hers. She could feel herself gulping involuntarily. His right hand, still white with flour, flew to her left shoulder. His thumb kneaded gently into her collar.
"What's wrong?" He repeated.
You? Me? Sexual frustration?
She sighed loudly, fighting the tears. His hand gripped tighter, though by no means harshly. "Vee?"
She looked up at him. His eyes spelled concern, gentleness, and safety. His towering height made her feel comfort rather than threat.
Well, this is nice.
"Vee?" He shifted the hand to her jaw. He leaned closer, frowning.
It's too good, too safe, too certain -
She gulped, frustrated at her own anxiety.
You won't get to stay like this forever.
Cuz when the next assignment comes, it's goodbye Vanessa Mason.
"Hey," he whispered.
She met his eyes.
"I don't know what's bothering you. But whatever it is, I'm here, alright? I'm here, right now - and that's what matters, right?"
He's here, right now.
She gulped.
Now.
Then just like that, she flung herself into his arms. Her hands hung around his neck as her chest - flour prints and all - pressed against his. He dutifully held her close.
"Vee?"
She hugged him tighter. He understood enough to stop talking.
Thank you.
Yet despite his cooperation - she didn't feel any better. Giving it up, she pulled back just enough to see his very worried face. He pressed his palm against her cheek, and she leaned into it.
"What's wrong?" He whispered, gentle and true.
"I want you." The words came simply - short, succinct, and powerful.
His pupils dilated, irises grew dark. The hand he had on her back pressed her closer.
"Are you sure?"
He said it so softly she thought she'd imagined it.
"Yes."
Her back hit the bedding within twenty seconds.
Quite certain he's by himself, he flipped each pancake dramatically - twirling and tossing - before actually plating any of them. The burnt butter smelled particularly good this morning.
"You should ask your boss to let you work in the open kitchen."
He looked up at her unusual greeting. Just a few yards away, she stood with her bath robe tied loosely around her. The sliver of skin that started from her collar and trailed to her ribs indicated just how little she was wearing beneath the towel-like fabric. Her smile at his ogling assured him that he wasn't overstepping any boundaries.
As if there are any boundaries left to overstep after the past week.
He smiled at the memory of the very first time - at the recollection of her simple offer that had turned into a mutual screamfest for the next two hours.
Man, I'm getting hard already.
He tried to ignore his genitals in favor of a real conversation. After all, he had much to prove about having more than one marketable skill.
"Considering the close call from Liam last time, I'll pass on the public adoration." He smiled, turning to soak the skillet in soapy water as he spoke. "But hey, thanks for the compliment."
Turning back around to face her, the furrowed brow caught him by surprise. He frowned himself. "What's wrong?"
She sighed a little before shaking her head and sporting a well-rehearsed 'nevermind' smile. He would have none of it.
"Hey, you've been happy these few days. What's wrong?" He maneuvered himself around the counter to stand in front of her.
She looked at him, smiling wryly. "Jumping your bones every single day must mean super bliss, huh?"
He couldn't keep himself from feeling offended.
"I'm kidding! Sorry!" She apologized immediately, hands on his forearms. She waited for him to meet her eye before continuing, "I'm being a jerk - I know. I'm sorry. I just - I'm worried, okay?"
"About what?"
"About - " She stopped, looking down in deep thought.
"Veronica, I told you. We'll get through this together."
All this assuring is taking its toll.
"I know."
Thank goodness.
"I'm just worried, you know?" She look back at him, gaze fidgety. "What if Liam finds us again? What if this isn't meant to last? Any form of happiness for us has never lasted - in high school, in college, in - "
"Hey!" He grabbed her by the arms then, willing her to focus, as he kept his tone as gentle as he could. "Superagent girlfriend, remember? We'll be fine. I'm not worried, and you don't have to be."
She licked her lips slowly, the movement at once sexy and tense. "Okay."
"Good." He folded her into his arms and hugged her close. "We'll be fine, okay? We'll be fine."
Cuz the universe has got to give at some point.
He felt her hands snake around his waist, and his heart warmed.
He buried his nose into her hair, heart full and soul content in a way he'd never imagined he would ever be. Cuz even if they fight over the definition of al dente and argue about a fangirl receptionist who tracks his every move, this is still the most peaceful chapter he's ever had in his young life.
And I want it to last forever.
No abusive father, yes passionate girlfriend. No nosy paparazzi, yes dedicated partner. No frat boy parties, yes stable kitchen job.
He wanted this to work, with all his heart; and there was nothing he would ever allow to ruin this.
Right?
Right?
A/N: This story started as a stray idea that grew into a plan for 12 chapters. Let's hope we'll get to the end in one piece! The angst is killing me from the inside. Lots of thanks to irma66 for checking these for me. She saves all readers from weird wording or magically changing outfits, hehe. Since TL is ending soon, I'll be able to focus a tiny tad more on this and VH. Please leave your thoughts!