Author's Note: Thank you so much to Bondo for the beta read, and to Steenbeans and Joey for giving their thoughts too. I really appreciate you all!
This fic has a playlist to go alongside it - the first song being the one that inspired this whole thing called If The World Was Ending by JP Saxe.
At the end of the fic I will post which part of the fic each song connects to.
Listen to the playlist as you read: playlist/6jW9W2rWAk7ogobN1BHJFD
There will be six chapters in total.
Also thank you goes to skk670 as I borrowed an element from her fic When The Cuddling Isn't the Best Part. I got the idea for the security system from her. She was also an amazing friend to me in fandom when Veronica Mars was airing - and for that I will forever grateful!
"Here's Logan with today's inspirational message. 'The end of the world is no excuse for bad manners.' — Douglas Adams."
Logan stood in the mansion's cavernous living room, as the TV screen glowed coldly, casting flickering shadows across polished marble floors and high, arched ceilings. The news anchor's voice, calm in only a way a trained professional could be, broke the stillness. "A nationwide stay-in-place order has been issued," she said, her face a mask of forced composure. Behind her, footage rolled: barren streets, lines of masked figures clutching shopping bags, fists flying over loaves of bread.
Logan flicked the remote, plunging the room into darkness. The sudden silence was oppressive, wrapping around him like a smothering blanket. The Hemora virus had reached the US less than a week ago, but its spread was ferocious, outpacing even the most dire predictions. The daily death toll had already moved beyond terrifying, joining the devastation in the countries it had reached first. Disturbing images, bypassing traditional media, circulated through email chains: hospitals overwhelmed, turning away the desperate, and streets lined with makeshift piles of bodies, especially in densely populated areas. Morgues were overrun, unable to keep up with the relentless tide of death.
Experts hypothesised it was a zoonotic virus, likely transmitted from bats, but conspiracy theories swirled in the chaos. Whispers of government cover-ups and deliberate release by the elite fanned the flames of fear and mistrust, adding another layer of uncertainty to an already crumbling society.
Logan knew he was luckier than most - few had the luxury of riding out the world's potential collapse in a sprawling estate. Yet, despite the grandeur, the mansion felt less like a refuge and more like a tomb, a vast and empty reminder of his current isolation.
The property was nothing more than a monument to his father's ego - cold, impersonal, and filled with expensive things that carried no sentimental value to anyone. It was a curated gallery of wealth designed to impress, but devoid of warmth or humanity. His mother's contributions, though well-meaning, had only added to the gaudiness - crystal chandeliers, oversized vases, and blown up images of the families faces clashed awkwardly with the sterile opulence.
Luckily for Logan, Aaron was currently rotting in a cell. He knew with certainty that being trapped in this house with his father would have led to one of them not making it out alive. The irony wasn't lost on him: prison, a place Aaron had always smugly thought he could avoid, was now one of the worst places to be during the pandemic lockdown. Logan took a grim sort of pleasure in imagining his father's horror at the timing of finally being caught for Lilly's murder.
The silence in the house told a different story - not of Aaron, but of his mom. The void Lynn left behind was deafening, her presence etched into the fabric of the home in ways that were both understated and overwhelming. When she had surrendered to the cold embrace of the ocean, it wasn't the kind of grand, attention-seeking gesture his dad would have favoured; it was her final escape.
And now, more than ever, Logan longed for her. He would have given anything to have his mom with him - to feel the gentle touch of her hand on his cheek or hear the soothing warmth of her voice cutting through the rising fear that had engulfed him over the past week. Her absence clung to the walls like the lingering scent of her perfume, sharp and inescapable. She left behind a raw ache that refused to fade.
Logan wasn't stupid. Society was unravelling, and he wasn't about to end up a statistic on a news reel.
He had prepared as best he could in the last week – stockpiling food, water, supplies and enough batteries to light up the whole estate. His dad's office safe had yielded a stash of weapons: a couple of pistols, a shotgun, even a sleek black knife that looked like it belonged in a spy movie, and he was faintly surprised it hadn't been used against him in one of his father's sick schemes.
Outside, people were clawing each other apart for scraps. Once the shops were cleared of the basics, desperate looters were taking on properties that were easy pickings. At some point they might not care if a house sat behind high walls or an iron gate, with headlines reporting violence escalating by the day.
His father's paranoia was now a boon to him - the mansion's security system was a fortress. Not only were the walls around the estate built to keep people out, he could lock the entire place down at the press of a button, turning it into a stronghold no one could breach. He moved towards the sleek control panel by the front door, but his finger hovered over the touchscreen, hesitating.
Once he activated lockdown, that was it. No more outside world. No chance for anyone to check on him - not that anyone would at this point. The phone networks had been sporadic over the last few days, likely from overload, but a text from Dick had got through that morning:
Locked in for the long haul, bro. Catch you on the flip side.
He was about to press the button when a soft ping from the monitor made him freeze.
Someone was at the gate. The first person he'd seen in days.
"What the…" He frowned, stepping closer to the security feed. The grainy footage showed a figure standing just beyond the wrought-iron barrier, a floodlight casting long shadows on the gravel driveway.
He tapped the screen to zoom in, and his breath caught.
Blonde hair. Petite frame. Determined stance.
His heart actually skipped a beat. Had he pressed the button a moment before, he would have missed her.
Logan had been worrying about her since the news broke, knowing unlike the very small handful of people he cared about who all happened to live in mansions - her small apartment wouldn't hold much in the way of either food or security. He tried to calm his fears by reminding himself that both she and Keith were resourceful, and no doubt her perfect Prince Charming would have stepped in to offer sanctuary. The Kanes literally had their pick of properties scattered across the country.
Even so, he'd sent a text message on day one of the shit show to ask if she was okay, and whether she needed anything, then thought fuck it on day two with an offer to come and get her and Keith if she needed him.
Logan wasn't surprised to receive radio silence in response. He had deluded himself to think she would want to hear from him during Armageddon.
Yet just a few days later, there she stood. She was looking between the camera, and then up towards the gate, like she was figuring out how best to climb over the nine foot gate. Her face was pale but set in that determined way he knew too well.
There was an evil part of him that wanted to wait, just to see how far she'd go to try and gain entry, but instead he swallowed hard, and headed for the front door.
The moment he stepped outside, the cold night air bit at his skin as his sneakers crunched on the gravel, but his focus never wavered from the girl standing just beyond the gate.
"What are you doing here?" he called out, his voice harsher than he intended.
Her chin lifted, her posture stiff, but there was a slight tremor in her voice when she answered, "I didn't know where else to go."
"Where's your dad?" Logan asked as he began to input the code into the outside pad. It crossed his mind that Veronica had a code of her own that he hadn't changed, but she hadn't even tried to enter it.
"He's stuck out of town," she said, her words rushed. "He was tracking a bail jumper before things got bad, and he had Backup with him."
"Shit," Logan responded, feeling a flash of irritation. Of all the times to leave your teenage daughter, right before a pandemic wasn't exactly ideal, unintended or not.
"He tried to get back, but the highway's closed to try and slow down the spread, so he headed to my aunt's place. He told me to stay in the apartment, but…" She faltered, her gaze shifting, her voice dropping. "I had to leave."
Logan's jaw tightened as he took her in: the duffle bag slung over her shoulder, her face streaked with exhaustion. Something flickered in him - worry, anger and mostly a twisted kind of relief.
He didn't respond right away as he hit the enter button on the pad. The heavy iron swung open, and Veronica stepped through, gripping the bag tightly. She glanced around the sprawling estate, her eyes scanning the mansion like she hadn't quite expected him to let her in so easily.
"Where's your car?" he asked, his brow furrowing as he noted the empty street behind her.
She shrugged, the motion almost casual, but Logan caught the faint flicker of weariness in her eyes. "The main roads into these neighbourhoods are blocked- people are trying to hijack anything they think might be worth something."
He stared at her in disbelief, his stomach twisting. "Shit. So you walked here?" His voice pitched higher than he intended.
Her lips curved into a faint, humourless smirk as she reached into her hoodie pocket, pulling out a stun gun and a knife. She held them up briefly, the blade glinting under the porch light. "Not without protection."
Logan's heart lurched. Protection? She was five-foot-nothing and barely eighteen. A knife and a stun gun wouldn't mean much if someone decided to target her.
"Are you out of your mind, Veronica?" he snapped, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "If even one person came at you, you'd have no chance. And a group? Jesus!"
She turned her head, her expression calm but resolute, like she'd already considered every risk and decided they were worth it. That only made his fear spike higher. What had been so bad she'd left her apartment during a stay-at-home order?
"Come inside," he said, his voice low.
Neither of them spoke as they entered the house. The door closed behind them with a soft thud, sealing out the night. Logan turned to the control panel and activated the lockdown. The mechanical clicks and whirs of steel shutters sliding into place echoed through the halls like the tolling of a bell.
Veronica watched him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. "Thanks," she said, her voice quiet.
"Don't mention it." Logan forced his tone to stay light, casual, even as his pulse raced. He wasn't sure what unsettled him more: the chaos outside, the look in her eyes, or the simple fact that she was here.
"I assumed you'd be with Duncan," he said, unable to stop himself from asking the obvious.
She shrugged. "He wasn't answering his phone, and heading into the centre of town to find him didn't seem like a great idea."
"Ah. Second choice again," he muttered, his tone sharp.
"Logan," she said, her voice edged with warning, but there was a flicker of something else - exasperation, and something else he couldn't name.
He led her deeper into the house, the mansion swallowing them in its quiet vastness. The polished floors gleamed under the dim overhead lights, and their footsteps echoed faintly in the emptiness. He noticed she kept her distance from him as they walked, and even when they reached the kitchen, and he flicked on a light, she stood away from him.
The sterile white counters and stainless steel appliances shone, untouched since Mrs. Navarro had last been at work. He was always grateful she'd returned after being falsely accused of credit card fraud. His mom always had a talent for smoothing things over with staff, especially the loyal ones that kept their nose out of family business.
He leaned against the island, crossing his arms as Veronica set her duffle bag on the floor on the other side of the room. She stood there for a moment, her shoulders tense, looking down at the floor.
"You hungry?" Logan asked, breaking the heavy silence. His voice was casual, but the worry beneath it was unmistakable.
Veronica shook her head, though her hands trembled slightly as she unzipped her bag. "I'm fine."
"Yeah, that's bullshit." Logan's tone was sharp, but his movements were steady as he turned to the fridge. He grabbed a can of soda and busied himself making her a sandwich. He knew her favourites - turkey, avocado, no mayo. Over the summer, she'd spent countless days at his house, their little refuge from the chaos outside. That time felt like a distant dream now, almost like it belonged to a different version of them.
He slid the plate across the counter towards her, his eyes fixed on her pale, exhausted face. "Eat something. You look like you haven't slept in days."
She hesitated, then stepped forward, taking the can from the counter. The soft hiss of the soda opening filled the quiet space. She took a long drink, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. Logan just watched her, trying to piece together how she'd ended up here, in his house, after everything.
"How bad was it?" he asked softly, breaking the moment.
Veronica set the can down, her fingers tightening around it like it was the only solid thing in her world. "I ran out of anything decent to eat days ago," she admitted, her voice low. "Tried going to a store, but there was a full-on brawl over the last few cans. Thought it wasn't worth losing a tooth over. Not for ravioli, anyway," she added wryly.
Logan's jaw clenched, a quiet rage simmering beneath his skin as he listened.
"I stayed in the apartment, thinking maybe I could ride it out on dried pasta and weird jars from the back of the cupboard," she continued, her voice brittle. "But yesterday the power went out. Looters started breaking into apartments, floor by floor. They were methodical - smashing down doors, taking whatever they could carry. I blocked the door to mine, but…" She trailed off, her breath catching. "Hiding in the bathroom wasn't exactly a long-term plan." Her gaze drifted back to the floor. "Then I saw a couple of bodies in the swimming pool – I'm not sure if that was the virus, or the looters. I figured I'd rather take my chances out here than wait to find out what they'd do when they got to me."
Logan felt his chest tighten, his breath coming shorter. The image of her alone, barricading herself against a violent mob, sent a sickening jolt through him. Her small frame, dwarfed by the chaos around her, filled his mind. He clenched his fists, forcing the thought away, but the fury stayed.
"You could've called," he said, his voice rough with restrained emotion.
Her head snapped up, her eyes flashing with defiance. "And said what? 'Hey, Logan, mind getting yourself killed for me?'"
"Yeah," he shot back without hesitation, his voice rising. "You could've."
Her defiance faltered, and for a moment, something softer flickered in her expression. She didn't reply. Instead, she reached for the sandwich, taking a small, tentative bite, as though the act of eating might distract her. The heavy silence stretched between them until finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping under the weight of everything she wasn't saying.
"I just took what I could carry," she said quietly, her voice tinged with regret. "Hid the rest - photos, things I couldn't bear to lose - in the roof space and got out. Honestly, I didn't know if you'd even open the gate when I got here."
Logan let out a bitter, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. "That's what you thought? That I'd leave you out there to die?"
"I'm not saying you would, Logan," she murmured, her tone defensive but wavering. "It's just… things have been…" She trailed off, searching for the right word but coming up empty. Finally, she settled on, "complicated."
"Complicated doesn't mean I'd turn you away, Veronica." His words came out harsher than he intended, but he didn't care. She needed to understand. "Not now. Not ever."
Her wide eyes flicked to his. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them taut and electric. His chest tightened as he saw the cracks in her armour, the fragility she tried so hard to hide.
Finally, she nodded, her lips curving up into the faintest of smiles. "Thanks," she said again, but this time it sounded less like a formality and more like she meant it.
Logan pushed off the counter and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "You can take one of the guest rooms," he said, his tone lighter now, trying to ease the weight in the room. "The one just down the hall from mine."
Veronica nodded, picking up her bag. "Okay, sounds good."
He started to lead her down the hall, passing his own bedroom, and to the closest guest room, her boots clicking on the marble flooring. When they reached the door, Logan pushed it open, revealing a pristine room with soft grey walls, a king-sized bed, and a bay window that would have overlooked the darkened estate if the metal shutters weren't covering them.
"You'll be safe here," he said, leaning against the doorframe.
Veronica stepped inside, her eyes taking in the space. She paused near the bed, adjusting her grip on the strap of her bag.
"Here, let me - " Logan started to step forward, reaching to take her bag, but she immediately took a step back, keeping a large space between them.
He froze, his hand dropping back to his side as realisation dawned. She'd been doing this since she arrived - keeping her distance, careful not to get too close. Then suddenly it clicked in his head.
"Do you think I have the virus?" he asked, his voice quieter now.
Her head snapped up, eyes widening. "No. That's not it." She hesitated, then sighed, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag. "I'm making sure I don't have it. That I don't give it to you by coming here."
Logan's frown deepened as he considered it. "You've been around people?"
"Not closely," she said firmly, her tone resolute. "I've tried my best to stay away from everyone since this started, but it's an apartment complex. I can't be completely sure and we don't truly know how it spreads." She hesitated, then added, "I don't think I have it - I checked for the rash before I left as reports say it shows up within hours of infection." Her voice softened, almost tentative now. "But I want to be sure I don't bring it to you, in case I missed something. I heard it often starts on the back, so it can get missed. Can you make sure I'm clear?"
Logan blinked, caught off guard. "You want me to check?"
"It's fine," she said, her tone almost casual. "Better safe than sorry, right?" Her gaze dropping to the floor. "I'd never forgive myself if I brought the virus to you."
He nodded slowly. "Alright."
Veronica slipped off her hoodie and tugged her shirt over her head, turning her back to him. Logan's breath hitched as his eyes swept over her bare skin, pale and smooth in the soft light. His mouth went dry, and he clenched his fists at his sides, forcing himself to focus.
He stepped closer, his eyes perusing her back for any sign of the rash. "You're fine," he said after a moment, his voice tight. "There's nothing."
Veronica pulled her shirt back on and turned to face him. "Good," she murmured.
Logan cleared his throat, stepping back abruptly. "Just get some sleep," he said, his voice sharper than he'd intended.
Her brows drew together in brief confusion, and he cursed himself silently. She thought he was annoyed. He wanted to explain, but he had to get out of there before he did something stupid, like pull her into his arms.
"I'll be in my room," he added more softly. "If you need anything."
Veronica gave a small nod, and he forced himself to step out, closing the door firmly behind him.
She'd come to him because she trusted his house to keep her safe. That was all. Nothing more.
Logan woke early, the cold seeping through the flooring as his bare feet padded down the quiet hallways. The mansion felt different now, like its emptiness had shifted somehow just with one addition.
He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, following the faint clink of a spoon against porcelain. The kitchen lights were dim, throwing soft shadows against the marble counters and polished appliances. Veronica sat on one of the breakfast stools. She'd changed into a black t-shirt and jeans, her hair loose, but exhaustion still clung to her like a second skin.
She was holding a steaming mug, while a second empty mug sat ready for him on the counter.
"You're up early," Logan murmured, his voice rough with sleep as he leaned against the doorway.
Veronica glanced back, her expression guarded but not cold. "I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep."
"Nightmares?" he asked, moving to the island and folding his arms.
She gave a low, hollow laugh. "More like reality catching up." She climbed off the stool and began to busy herself making him a coffee.
Logan tilted his head, studying her. "Want to talk about it?"
Veronica turned back to the window, her gaze unfocused as if she could somehow see beyond the closed shutters. Her finger traced aimless patterns on the countertop, a silent rhythm to the coffee machine's steady drip. "What's there to say? The world's crumbling, and I'm just trying to hold it together."
Logan followed her gaze to the window. "You're safe here," he said quietly. "No one's getting over those walls."
"For now," she replied, and he could hear the underlying tension. "But what happens when the food runs out? When people get really desperate?"
Logan frowned, the weight of her words hanging between them. "Then we deal with it."
"We?" she asked, finally turning to face him fully. Her eyes fixed on his, her voice laced with a flicker of disbelief. "Why did you let me in, Logan?"
He stared at her in confusion. "What?"
"You could've turned me away," she said, her voice quieter now. And yet, her eyes were still sharp, too sharp - searching him like she was looking for something specific. The question was familiar, and it annoyed him, anger rising in him before he could stop. Why is she asking me again? Haven't I already shown her? But that anger only simmered for a moment before something else crept in - something that made him pause, something he didn't want to admit to himself.
Her eyes were so open now, so unsure, and it was almost as if she was asking not whether he'd let her stay, but whether he actually wanted her there. Not because of the world ending, not because of survival - but because of them. Because of her. That maybe, after everything, after all the mess between them, she was wondering if he still wanted her in his home.
His anger fizzled into confusion, a swirling mess in his mind. He'd sent her the text messages, so why did this matter so much? She was the last person he wanted to be confused by, the last person he wanted to admit he had no idea what the hell he was doing anymore. But there it was. She was still Veronica, still that damn puzzle he couldn't solve.
"Why would I do that?" he asked finally, his voice roughened by his temper still present beneath the surface.
She sighed, long and exhausted. "I don't know," she admitted quietly, almost as if she were talking more to herself than him. "Things haven't exactly been easy."
"Since you broke up with me?" he asked bluntly.
Her jaw tightened, but she didn't flinch. "I'm just saying - you don't owe me, Logan. Letting me stay here, helping me... I wouldn't blame you if you didn't."
The words escaped him before he could stop them. "You think I'd let you go back out there?" His voice carried a sharp edge of incredulity. "No way."
She held his gaze, her expression unreadable, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of something deeper - soft but conflicted. The silence stretched between them like a taut wire. Was this about her not trusting him? Maybe she was wondering if, at some point, he'd lose his temper and tell her to leave.
"You really do think I'm an asshole, don't you?" He asked it on impulse, frustration slipping into his tone.
"No, Logan," she said quickly, almost too quickly. "That's not it. I just... after everything, I thought maybe I'd be the last person you'd want here right now. And if you want me to go, then I will."
She sounded so uncertain. Her words hung in the air between them like a fragile thread, and Logan knew it wasn't the world outside that was making her question this.
It wasn't about whether she could survive or not. It wasn't even about her coming to him because she needed shelter. It was about them. About how she didn't want to be here if he thought she was a burden, if she was imposing in some way.
"I'm really confused, Veronica. I texted you, didn't I?"
She nodded. "Yeah, asking if I was okay."
"To which you didn't reply," he pointed out.
"Yes, I did," she said. "I told you things were crazy and that I hated the thought of you being alone right now."
"I didn't get that," Logan said, his brow furrowing. "And I also texted you saying I'd come get you and your dad."
"You did?" Veronica's surprise was evident.
"The networks are unreliable right now, they must not have gone through," he decided, feeling a strange sense of relief that she'd been worried about him too. "But you can stay here for the long haul," he promised.
She studied him, and for a moment, it felt like the world outside faded away. It was just the two of them in this house, in this moment. Yet she still seemed unsure, her usual walls slipping to reveal a vulnerability she rarely let show. It hit him harder than he expected.
"We could be stuck here for days," he said, his voice softer now. He took a steadying breath, the tension in his chest easing slightly. Without realising it, he stepped closer. "I want you to be here."
Her eyes widened, and he saw the visible relief wash over her. Those were the words she'd been waiting for, the reassurance she needed. In truth, Logan suspected they'd be stuck together far longer than days, but he kept that thought to himself. She didn't need another reason to panic.
Instead, Veronica handed him a mug of coffee in silent acknowledgement and busied herself at the stove, cooking bacon and eggs.
They ate silently side by side at the breakfast bar, but Logan noticed how she kept staring off into space, her gaze unfocused. For a brief moment, the air in the room shifted, thickening with the weight of her thoughts. He knew she wasn't thinking about them anymore. She was somewhere else, her mind pulled far beyond the walls of his house.
"You're worried about your dad," he declared quietly.
Veronica blinked, her head snapping back to the present as if she'd just been pulled from a deep well of worry. She hesitated for a moment before nodding, just barely. "Yeah, I just wish I knew they were all okay." Her voice wavered just slightly, a small betrayal of the edge of fear she was trying to conceal. "Mac emailed to say her family were packing up their camper van, and hiding out in the middle of nowhere. Wallace, his mom and little brother have barricaded themselves in their house. I just… I just hope they're safe."
Logan's heart tightened at the rawness in her voice, but he didn't let her see the sympathy stirring in his chest. Instead, he let out a faint, rueful smirk, trying to lighten the air between them. "Well, if you had to pick a place to hide out, you picked a damn good one. Plenty of space, a gym, a theatre room, tennis courts… multiple pools."
He knew Veronica was no stranger to the swimming pools - every curve of their edges, every ripple of water had been imprinted with memories of long summer days spent together, their bodies entwined beneath the sun.
Veronica gave a short laugh, her first real smile breaking through. "You sound like a realtor trying to talk up the place."
"And am I selling you on it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise.
"Well, how can I resist a theatre room?" she teased. "I'll put an offer in of half a bar of chocolate from the bottom of my purse, and two money-off coupons for the Sac-N-Pac."
"Deal. The house is yours," Logan offered with a mock bow. "And I'll throw in a few movie marathons to sweeten the pot."
Veronica grinned. "Got a subject in mind?"
"I'm thinking the classic world-ending stuff, gotta keep it on the nose," he replied with a wry smile.
She raised an eyebrow. "Damn straight. Are we talking pedestrian weather events, or full-on, say goodbye humanity?"
"I'm thinking Armageddon, The Day After Tomorrow, and we could go classic with Last Woman on Earth," Logan suggested with a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that," Veronica smirked. "It would be awfully lonely."
Their light-hearted banter hung in the air for a moment, but Veronica's next question grounded them again, pulling them both back to reality. "What about food here? What happens if things get low and we have to leave?"
Logan pushed off the counter. "Come with me."
He opened a side door, revealing a storage room packed with neatly arranged shelves, each one filled with essentials. Rows of canned goods, bags of rice, jars of pasta, and crates of bottled drinks lined the walls. Boxes of protein bars, chocolate, instant coffee, and even some indulgent snacks were stacked neatly in the remaining spaces. Medical supplies and flashlights were stacked in crates in the corner.
"Impressive, huh?" Logan said, stepping aside to let her take it all in.
Veronica ran her fingers along the edge of a shelf, eyeing up the meticulously organised stockpile. "You weren't kidding about being prepared," she murmured, her voice tinged with awe. "This could last months."
"Yeah, well," Logan shrugged, trying to downplay the effort. "I saw where things were going and figured my dad's black AmEx could be put to good use. The freezers are full, and so's the fridge, for as long as it lasts. I got enough for you and your dad, just in case, and even dog food too."
Veronica turned to him, her expression softening. "Thank you," she said, her voice sincere. "For letting me stay. For all of this."
Logan met her gaze, something unspoken passing between them. "Like I said, you're stuck with me."
She hesitated, biting her lip as if weighing her next words, but then seemed to change her mind, a soft smile curling on her lips. "So, what do we do now?"
Logan smirked. "Survive. And maybe teach you how to make something edible from all this."
"Hey, I can cook," Veronica protested. "When was the last time you made a meal? And Pop Tarts don't count."
"Uh, never," he admitted with a shrug, his tone light but honest.
"How about we start there, then?" Veronica suggested, crossing her arms, a playful challenge sparking in her eyes.
Logan smirked. "Alright, let's see if you can turn me into a Martha Stewart."
"Oh no," she shot back with a sly grin. "You already dodged prison. Let's aim for Jamie Oliver instead."
"So, you mean we cook naked?" he asked, his tone hopeful, eyes glinting with mischief.
She arched an eyebrow, her voice dripping with mock innocence. "Sure, why not?"
Logan's grin widened as he leaned in just slightly. "Teasing like that isn't very nice, Mars."
Veronica tilted her head, her expression unflinching. "Who says I'm teasing?" she replied, deadpan.
He froze for a second, then gave a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair. Oh yeah, it was going to be a very long afternoon.