VM: Busted (Logan; PG-13)
Title: Busted
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Characters/Pairings: Logan, Logan/Veronica. Aaron mentions.
Rating: PG-13 for violence and some under-aged drinking.
Word Count: 1034
Spoilers: Really set between 2x22 and 3x01, but the issue of the fic deals with something from 3x03.
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with Rob Thomas, The CW or Veronica Mars. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: This whole idea came from a conversation with queen_haq after an event I was at with devidarkwolf and her YXT. Tone of love go to a very tired synful_trixx, who was nice enough to beta this for me. At this point all mistakes are mine.
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Slamming the door in frustration, Logan turns from the car and heads toward the elevator in the garage of the Neptune Grand. The last three hours were hell for him, and he’s desperate for some release. Moaning, he wishes Veronica wasn’t in New York at the moment.
As he stomps into the elevator, he pushes the PH button and waits impatiently for the doors to close and the elevator to move. Drinking looks like a good option after Aaron’s funeral, he decides.
Unable to avoid attending the horrific event, Logan remembers how painful it was to listen to Harvey and Trina wax poetic about Aaron while the media circus looked on at the grieving son, unable to cry for the murdering father that ruined so much of his life. The lack of his petite girlfriend was worse than he had imagined it would be, with everyone’s prying eyes studying his every move. Each shift in the chair was noted by someone from E! or Entertainment Tonight-just what he’d needed.
Walking into his hotel room, he pads over to the mini-fridge, opens the door and finds the small shot-portioned bottles of Grey Goose and Jose Cuervo before moving to the couch to drink. Not counting how many he grabs, the bottles fall onto the table from his hands without shattering.
Slowly he takes a sip from one bottle, before chugging the rest of the vodka quickly to numb the pain of the funeral. Once the bottle is empty, Logan looks at another bottle before picking it up and drinking the contents.
The numbing effect of the alcohol does nothing to ease the pain of the funeral, and he continues to sit and look at the empty room. Veronica isn’t around to comfort him, and Dick is off running around with Big Dick and he is alone, in his hotel room, without anyone to listen to him.
Stewing in his thoughts, Logan continues to sulk before finally, with a look of determination, moving from the couch and storming towards the door. Punching the elevator button again, he hit his way toward the garage-slamming the G button with force repeatedly as the elevator slowly descended.
The elevator doors open, and he lurches out of the small space and over to his car. Opening the trunk of the car, Logan lifts the crow bar and walks towards the front of the car. At the hood, Logan takes the bar and rolls it around in his hands before smashing it five times into the yellow metal.
The anger that has built up during the funeral and hasn’t eased through the drinking earlier rises up as Logan looks at his car more. Losing himself in the rage, he continues to beat the car as his energy goes into how much he hates Aaron for ruining his life; how much nothing is going to be the same for him because of the bastard he knows as Dad and all of the fucked up decisions Dad made.
Twenty minutes later, Logan finally stops smashing the car. He looks up, noticing that the car is severely dented and that the windows have all been smashed. Rage issues shouldn’t be a problem for him since the previous summer when decisions to torch the community pool filled his mind, or further back the day when smashing Veronica’s headlights made his afternoon. Surveying the damage, he slowly moves around the car, not realizing that he did that earlier; this must be what Duncan felt like after one of those fits-confusion set in as he examines the crow bar in his hands and the damage to his car. Nothing on the car is spared and it’s in no shape to drive later.
Feeling like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, he slowly gaits back to the elevator and then his room.
After he enters the room, he takes out his cell phone, and calls Veronica, hoping that hearing her voice will calm his nerves.
“Hey, how’s New York?” he asks with only a hint of sadness.
“Good, but I miss you.”
“Miss you, too,” sighing into the phone, Logan waits for her to say something in response to move the conversation along.
“How was today?”
“It sucked, and I just did something really stupid.” Raking his hand through his hair, he prepares for the next question from her. Formulating the answer before the question exits her mouth is a well-learned strategy that serves him well.
“Does it involve a police investigation?”
“No, but I need to call a car dealership tomorrow.” He laughs at her actual question. Not the one he is really expecting given their history.
“What did you do to the XTerra?” she asks with that curious tone of voice that usually spells trouble.
“Smashed it-it was the last thing that reminded me of Aaron, and I just hated what happened today, and sort of lost it.” He’s ready to be chastised and berated for his actions, but is shocked by the silence that hangs in the air.
“Oh,” she says quickly after a beat. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll find a new car that doesn’t remind you of Aaron.” She sighs around the phone, and Logan knows that she shouldn’t be in New York right now. The silence tells him more than enough.
“I know. I guess I should go and look for a new car. I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“Sure.” The phone clicks dead and he wishes for her hand around his knee. He wishes for a few others things in the moment, but can’t help but know that those won’t come true right now. He wishes he could not have an asshole for a father, or a dead mother or a missing girlfriend, but none of those wishes are going to fix the broken car in the garage.
Logan walks around the suite thinking of what to do next. Looking at his computer, he could find a car from some random site, but decides that locating at the local dealerships is the better place to start. The Land Rover dealership is close by, and he likes Range Rovers. Bigger than an XTerra he knows, and that’s never a bad thing.
---
Feedback is appreciated.
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Characters/Pairings: Logan, Logan/Veronica. Aaron mentions.
Rating: PG-13 for violence and some under-aged drinking.
Word Count: 1034
Spoilers: Really set between 2x22 and 3x01, but the issue of the fic deals with something from 3x03.
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with Rob Thomas, The CW or Veronica Mars. No copyright infringement intended.
Notes: This whole idea came from a conversation with queen_haq after an event I was at with devidarkwolf and her YXT. Tone of love go to a very tired synful_trixx, who was nice enough to beta this for me. At this point all mistakes are mine.
---
Slamming the door in frustration, Logan turns from the car and heads toward the elevator in the garage of the Neptune Grand. The last three hours were hell for him, and he’s desperate for some release. Moaning, he wishes Veronica wasn’t in New York at the moment.
As he stomps into the elevator, he pushes the PH button and waits impatiently for the doors to close and the elevator to move. Drinking looks like a good option after Aaron’s funeral, he decides.
Unable to avoid attending the horrific event, Logan remembers how painful it was to listen to Harvey and Trina wax poetic about Aaron while the media circus looked on at the grieving son, unable to cry for the murdering father that ruined so much of his life. The lack of his petite girlfriend was worse than he had imagined it would be, with everyone’s prying eyes studying his every move. Each shift in the chair was noted by someone from E! or Entertainment Tonight-just what he’d needed.
Walking into his hotel room, he pads over to the mini-fridge, opens the door and finds the small shot-portioned bottles of Grey Goose and Jose Cuervo before moving to the couch to drink. Not counting how many he grabs, the bottles fall onto the table from his hands without shattering.
Slowly he takes a sip from one bottle, before chugging the rest of the vodka quickly to numb the pain of the funeral. Once the bottle is empty, Logan looks at another bottle before picking it up and drinking the contents.
The numbing effect of the alcohol does nothing to ease the pain of the funeral, and he continues to sit and look at the empty room. Veronica isn’t around to comfort him, and Dick is off running around with Big Dick and he is alone, in his hotel room, without anyone to listen to him.
Stewing in his thoughts, Logan continues to sulk before finally, with a look of determination, moving from the couch and storming towards the door. Punching the elevator button again, he hit his way toward the garage-slamming the G button with force repeatedly as the elevator slowly descended.
The elevator doors open, and he lurches out of the small space and over to his car. Opening the trunk of the car, Logan lifts the crow bar and walks towards the front of the car. At the hood, Logan takes the bar and rolls it around in his hands before smashing it five times into the yellow metal.
The anger that has built up during the funeral and hasn’t eased through the drinking earlier rises up as Logan looks at his car more. Losing himself in the rage, he continues to beat the car as his energy goes into how much he hates Aaron for ruining his life; how much nothing is going to be the same for him because of the bastard he knows as Dad and all of the fucked up decisions Dad made.
Twenty minutes later, Logan finally stops smashing the car. He looks up, noticing that the car is severely dented and that the windows have all been smashed. Rage issues shouldn’t be a problem for him since the previous summer when decisions to torch the community pool filled his mind, or further back the day when smashing Veronica’s headlights made his afternoon. Surveying the damage, he slowly moves around the car, not realizing that he did that earlier; this must be what Duncan felt like after one of those fits-confusion set in as he examines the crow bar in his hands and the damage to his car. Nothing on the car is spared and it’s in no shape to drive later.
Feeling like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, he slowly gaits back to the elevator and then his room.
After he enters the room, he takes out his cell phone, and calls Veronica, hoping that hearing her voice will calm his nerves.
“Hey, how’s New York?” he asks with only a hint of sadness.
“Good, but I miss you.”
“Miss you, too,” sighing into the phone, Logan waits for her to say something in response to move the conversation along.
“How was today?”
“It sucked, and I just did something really stupid.” Raking his hand through his hair, he prepares for the next question from her. Formulating the answer before the question exits her mouth is a well-learned strategy that serves him well.
“Does it involve a police investigation?”
“No, but I need to call a car dealership tomorrow.” He laughs at her actual question. Not the one he is really expecting given their history.
“What did you do to the XTerra?” she asks with that curious tone of voice that usually spells trouble.
“Smashed it-it was the last thing that reminded me of Aaron, and I just hated what happened today, and sort of lost it.” He’s ready to be chastised and berated for his actions, but is shocked by the silence that hangs in the air.
“Oh,” she says quickly after a beat. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll find a new car that doesn’t remind you of Aaron.” She sighs around the phone, and Logan knows that she shouldn’t be in New York right now. The silence tells him more than enough.
“I know. I guess I should go and look for a new car. I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“Sure.” The phone clicks dead and he wishes for her hand around his knee. He wishes for a few others things in the moment, but can’t help but know that those won’t come true right now. He wishes he could not have an asshole for a father, or a dead mother or a missing girlfriend, but none of those wishes are going to fix the broken car in the garage.
Logan walks around the suite thinking of what to do next. Looking at his computer, he could find a car from some random site, but decides that locating at the local dealerships is the better place to start. The Land Rover dealership is close by, and he likes Range Rovers. Bigger than an XTerra he knows, and that’s never a bad thing.
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Feedback is appreciated.