Hey all,
My apologies for taking so long, I am very happy to share this with you guys now, and hopefully you shall enjoy it. The reason I have been gone so long is because I have been lucky enough to meet some of the VM peeps at Oz Comic-Con, for more info on that, please visit sweetamara on tumblr.
Thank you for your reviews and encouragement!
...
Logan toyed with the three pearlescent buttons that adorned her blouse. She was laying outstretched on the bed, above a sea of pastel blue sheets, the likes of which only made her own blue eyes seem more spirited. He took her in, in her entirety. Veronica Mars. When the world quaked she was his steadfastness. Even when she wasn't around, she was the reason he tried harder-why he was better.
He thought back to each time she'd saved him. The day of Lilly's funeral when she'd unapologetically pulled him into a bear hug, clinging to him in an abandoned hallway of the Kane estate, a gasped silence falling over them both. Earlier that day, he'd caught sight of her slender frame in a blue halter dress, that seemed to glisten in the late afternoon sun. Nothing like the alien mourners who wore starch whites and oppressing black; wandering somberly while sipping on wine and eating canapés. Content with their regretful exuberance. But only Lilly could make Veronica Mary-Sue Mars wear something like that.
Her girlhood hair, silky gold and in waves fell over his shoulder- a warm, sweet jasmine scent - that at the time he had lapped in. Thankful to be acknowledged. How fucking hard Lilly being gone was for him. She'd slowly moved away from his shoulder, a loose briny tear still trickling down her cheek, but she looked at him expectantly. Her eyes a storm. Suddenly the room grew hot - sticky with intention – he wished he'd ignored his Mom and ditched the tuxedo jacket. It was as if they were attempting to cross a great divide. Reaching out, he'd softly rubbed her shoulder and then as if lured back by a sea of invisible chains, he made his way towards his father's voice.
Other memories can back in staccato, flickering flashes, moments he hadn't forgotten. A year later, when she'd cradled him in her arms while at the Sunset Regent, her hand softly ruffling his hair. Or when he fell into her apartment at three o'clock in the morning, bloodied and struggling to breathe-struggling to comprehend how his father had murdered his girlfriend in cold blood. He wonder if they were star-crossed or just disenfranchised. Disenfranchised. Star-crossed was an Elizabethan cliché.
His hand moved down to the band of her jeans and steadily undid the button. Then the zip. Beneath the band of her underwear.
He felt raw looking at her. Transparent. Yes, there had been others but none – not even Carrie – could translate the smoke signals like she could. Any other guy would put it down to her degree in psychology, her experience with convicted criminals, or maybe just a woman's intuition. He knew better though. No, Veronica though the firecracker she was, just knew his inner-clockwork better than anyone else. It had taken him a while to realize she always had.
His hands circled her skin in tender precision. She quivered at his touch. The open windows and splayed curtains shot hues of indigo across the room, it formed a celestial glow around his face, and she stifled a smirk at the irony. Angelic Logan.
She moaned at the touch of his slender fingers.
In a flurry of movements, they were together, longing and tenderness capitulating in one. He: tracing down her back, running his hands along her chest, planting kisses down her torso. She: with fingers on his chiseled skin, her lips reaching out for his, searching.
The two breathing together in ecstasy. His hands in her hair. Her palm pressed, steadying against his chest. A sea of fluid like intensities as he looked at her and she at him.
The dawn began to lick feverishly at the corners of the sky. Hues of daffodil and peach sprayed across the cloudy overgrowth. She laid on top of him, watching his seemingly futile attempts at falling back to sleep, his eyelids ruffling.
She kissed him ferociously. Hoping it would guide him out of his reverie.
"For twenty dollars you can watch," Logan mumbled before pulling his forearm up over his eyes.
"I never pay for things I don't need, "She stroked his hair.
'Do you ever wanna get married?' He asked just like that. Like "Can you pass the ketchup?" or "Would you mind driving the BMW to the auto repair shop?" Not a single quip accompanied the question.
Veronica felt herself recoil.
The dreaded M word.
'I am sorry, I know better than to poke the bear,'
'I used to once upon a time,' She let it fall out of her mouth in sloppy surprise.
'Leonardo DiCaprio right? Man, Trina was obsessed with that man,' He clowned.
'Vanilla Ice, you?'
'Alyssa Milano, but you knew that, didn't you?' He prompted with a wink, 'What would change your mind?'
'I don't want to talk about this anymore, Logan," She sat up rigidly and drew her elbows over knees.
'Okay,' He reached out and traced his hand over her shoulder, 'We don't have to.'
'You do realize how much shit is going to go down, don't you?" She looked at him, nervously.
He was kissing down the nape of her neck; but stopped suddenly, "Veronica, I-"
'Forget I said anything,' She shook the bad omen-like thoughts away, 'What are we going to do? You won't be here, I could end up with Hunter on my own.'
'We'll figure it out," He pulled her back down into the warm sheets, 'I am sorry.'
'You do know you're not Mr. Darcy? My dowry doesn't need paying any time soon,'
'A shame really, I'd pay double for a lifetime with Miss Mars, your dad would be a wealthy man,' He turned her over, so she was now beneath him, her eyes playful.
'Woah, buster, don't go getting cute on me,' She deflected and longingly kissed him once more.
She already made the decision to tread on eggshells around the issue until the dust settled. The truth is he had already know the response and frankly didn't care. He knew better than anyone why she didn't want to get married. Why the very prospect of white dresses and black tuxedos scared the shit out of her. Why she was thankful her dad had boxed up his wedding photos with the rest of her mom's stuff. Why Lilly's ancient clippings out of Better Homes and Gardens: Weddings made her cringe. Not that Lilly was the marrying type herself, but she wasn't one to pass up a Vogue-like entrance and heck, celibacy had never been an option. He didn't care because it didn't matter. After all that had happened – to both of them - he was just thankful she was his and if he needed to, he would spend the next twenty years doing his Ryan Gosling impression to prove he'd changed. That he'd clean himself up, for her and then for himself, if that was the kind of reassurance she needed.
He was staring at her still, unmoving, fully intent on swimming in her irises.
'I would ask if you two would like to be alone but-'
'You know I love you, right?' He was deadpan, the space between them miniscule, his fingers laid between hers.
Way to go, Logan, ruin my best material with heartfelt gestures.
'Yes, would I still be here if I thought you didn't?' She countered, it was supposed to sound reassuring, but for a moment the look in his face questioned it.
Nicely done, Veronica.
For a second, a million jarring responses ran through his mind, exploding like grenades. But he settled on the best one, the safest one. He didn't need any more reassurance than what she'd given him the night before. He grew close to her ear and whispered, 'Thank you.'
Then suddenly sprung from the bed, briskly throwing on a pair of shorts, 'Do you want coffee?'
'Preferably in an IV,' Her voice was muffled into the pillow.
'Sorry, Billy Murray, will you settle for a Nespresso?' He called.
'Anything strong,' She added with a wave of her hand.
She sat up, half-dressed in her blouse from the night before, her hair fuzzy, 'Hey, where's Dick?'
'He had some shndig to attend as it turns out,'
'Would this shndig offer him access to the clueless and crude?'
'You're on to something there, Marlowe,' She could hear the machine brewing in the kitchen and the familiar sound of clinking of glasses.
'Got plans for today?' She said, landing back down on the bed with a thump.
It's amazing the kind of energy you can assert while trying to start the day.
'Not really, I have my spin class at five,' He came back in and placed two full cups down on the beside cabinet, 'What did you have in mind?'
'Oh, I don't know, a walk down the beach? A martini? The Blue Lagoon?'
'Okay, I had you until you said The Blue Lagoon, scratch off baby Brook Shields and maybe we can come to an arrangement,'
'It's the 80s film series at its finest.' She clasped the cup in the palm of her hands.
'And most controversial,' He opposed with a raised eyebrow, 'but the beach sounds nice.'