FIC: Begin 1/1 (Logan/Veronica) PG -13
Title: Begin (1/1)
Author: Hillary (hillaryrobson@gmail.com)
Pairing: Logan and Veronica
Rating: PG-13, for a bit of naughty language
Spoilers: Through 2x20, "Look Who’s Stalking Now"
Summary: Their story wasn’t epic
AN: Written for the Cheesy Love Challenge. I’d had a whole other story that I’d been working on, and then I had to see 2x20 and it worked better with my song, which is “I think we’re alone now” by Tiffany. Warning: total fluffiness ensues.
Their story wasn’t epic. It wasn’t anything more than a chapter in a tawdry novella. Even better: a few lines scrawled on a page, something about running away from the truth, from each other, with scissors in their hands. Or maybe a poem, the kind about sadness and despair and anguish and never-there emotions. Not that she’d ever written poetry, not that they made poetry together, or even music. No, all they had ever managed to make was lines in the sand with angry eyes and promises that neither could keep.
Epic was a joke-Epic was something…something Logan Echolls couldn’t possibly understand.
There was a time in her life that she believed in love stories. That she had her white knight and poetry on fortune cookie strips, where she’d been willing to gamble everything for love. But after all the lies, all the disillusionment, she was ready to accept that her life was destined to be one of perpetual disappointment.
Veronica spent Sunday at the beach after leaving Logan’s room and finding Kendall there, her serpentine eyes and hands all over her (ex) boyfriend. Epic. Their conversation the night before and that morning replayed itself over and over in her head, until the sun set, the air got cold, and she got tired of feeling sorry for herself and crying. She’d gone to bed that night exhausted by emotion, but unable to sleep: staring up at the ceiling, bleary eyed and weary, wondering when (if ever) she’d be able to understand why it was that she’d let herself care so much about someone obviously incapable of feeling anything without six bottles of champagne in his system.
After contemplating skipping classes on Monday, she dragged herself out of bed and resolved not to think about him. By third period she was considering crying but wouldn’t, and when he passed her in the hallway she avoided eye contact, despite his “Veronica, Veronica…” as she strode past him. From the corner of her eyes she noticed that he was wearing the standard tortured Echoll’s expression of barely covered up anguish, and somewhere, deep in the depth of her soul, she’s glad to see that he was suffering. Even if it was just on the surface. He’d always been good at manipulation.
Knowing that didn’t make things any easier. Lunch was spent picking over a wilted salad and sipping lukewarm Diet Coke while Jackie and Wallace make out across the table. When Wallace slipped a hand up Jackie’s barely there skirt Veronica couldn’t hold back her caustic “Children, behave,” winning an incredulous stare from Wallace and a giggle from Jackie.
“Why you so down, Veronica?” Wallace’s grin would have normally been infectious, but couldn’t quite penetrate her wall of just below the surface despair.
“Nothing.” She mumbled, “I’m sorry,” and stood, “Got a paper to finish. See you lovebirds later.”
“Cheer up, V. Our high school days are almost over,” Wallace winked and then resumed his make out session with his girlfriend.
“Yeah,” she muttered, slinging her bag over her shoulder and offered a weak smile. Her eyes focused on the ground as she maneuvered the throngs of laughing students: the end of the year had a way of making everyone way too happy go lucky, and Wallace’s comment about high school had managed to bring up a wave of remembering… Logan’s words about her leaving and them not seeing each other, and once again she was chastising herself for being such a fool.
Veronica trudged down the quiet hallway, found the first closed door with the lights out, and slunk in the nearest desk. Slinking down into the seat, she buried her head in folded arms and willed away the tears. She didn’t want to cry (again) but found that attempts at prevention only made emotional breakdowns all the more appealing.
“I think we’re alone now,” She lifted her head sharply at the sound of Logan’s voice. He was across the room, slouched in a chair, wearing the same miserable expression.
“I was just leaving,” Veronica bit out, hearing that her voice, instead of simmering rage, sounded weak.
“No. Stay. Please.” He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. “Look, Veronica, I--”
“If you’re going to apologize, don’t. I have to admit, Logan, I’m a bit wise to how they’re a dime a dozen. I’m just not willing to listen to you anymore.” Veronica dared to meet his eyes and was surprised to find her words had managed some kind of effect on him.
“I, uh…” He swallowed, and she felt a twinge of…something…by the way he looked so uncomfortable. She tried to fight it back, but instead remained in her seat, watching him with weary eyes and attempting, however unsuccessfully, to stay calm. Unemotional. Rational.
“Why were you with Kendall? Wait a second, don’t answer that, okay. I don’t care. It’s obvious why you were with her-I mean, you just have to call “1-800-EZWhore” and she’s there in less than fifteen minutes or your money back, right?” She sighed, defeated. “You know what-- it’s none of my business. I don’t…you know what? I don’t care why you were with her. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you for taking what you said to heart. I blame the whole end of the high school thing on my temporary insanity.”
Veronica bent and picked up her bag, “I’m out of here. See you later, Logan. Or, not.”
“Why are you running, Veronica? You’re always running, and as much as I want to catch up with you, I can’t.” He shifted in the seat, his voice getting softer as he continued, “I want to be mad at you, but I can’t, because I’m mad at myself. I’m the one that fucked up-the one that keeps fucking up. I know I’m no good for you, I know I’m not, but it doesn’t change the fact that I want you. So bad I can taste it. And there’s times that I just…”
She couldn’t listen to this. True confessions with Logan was not on her agenda; not today, not ever. Because he had a way of making things sound pretty and real, he had a way of making her feel all the things she didn’t want to feel. She was done with him. Done with this book, this chapter, this whatever. She was ready for the epic to be over.
“Logan, please.” Veronica tried sounding angry but her words were brittle. He was breaking her, bruising her, making her all weak kneed and fuzzy. It was something no one - not even Duncan - had ever been able to do to her. He was her weakness, and she was done feeling weak. Finished.
This line of internal reasoning did nothing to explain why she was walking across the room to him. “I meant what I said yesterday, that I-I don’t want us to lose touch. We’re friends, right? We’ll always be friends. And I’ve lost enough in my life to know that I’m tired of people disappearing.”
“I still love you.” He whispered, “I love you, Veronica. What do I have to do to prove that to you?”
“Don’t say you love me, when you don’t even remember--” She swiped at the tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes, swallowing back a sob, “I said I wasn’t going to do this. I also said I was leaving, and I am. I can’t-I just won’t--”
He stood up, his eyes shining with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. How easy it was to get lost in those eyes, in a way she thought she was incapable of, that fairy tale romance way where she couldn’t feel the ground beneath her feet and the only thing she could hear was her heartbeat-their heartbeats-as he got close enough for her to touch him.
And in a flash she asked herself why she’d not just given in on Saturday night. Why she hadn’t let him touch her and kiss her believe what he had to say. Because, maybe-if she hadn’t left, hadn’t gotten spooked, hadn’t been so damn afraid of what Logan was capable of doing to her, then maybe things would be different. Maybe they’d have been different all along.
“Why do we keep doing this? Why can’t we just…?” He leaned in, pressing his forehead against her. She breathed out and in, wanting and not wanting to move as he put his arms around her and pulled her to him. “This isn’t a game. We’re not kids, Veronica…I just want you to know that I…”
“That you love me,” her voice was small in the space between them. She could barely stand, and the small part of her brain that was still rational blamed her lack of sleep on her current emotional status. “You keep saying it but…”
“But what?” She started to respond but was stopped by his mouth on hers, soft at first but then more insistent, and the world seemed to collide with her as his hands slid down her back and to her hips, drawing her closer as his tongue slid across hers. She couldn’t repress the moan that welled within her as she clutched his shirt and buried herself closer, couldn’t stop from falling as they sunk to the floor. He moved one hand to the back of her head and broke contact long enough to trail a line of kisses down her jawline, to her throat, his lips branding her as they captured her ear lobe, making her gasp from the pure electricity. All she could feel was him, the only sound their breathing, raspy, ragged, desperate.
“Logan, we…” she managed to speak in between his assault-like kisses, “we need to stop. Lunch is almost over, we might be…” She was distracted by his fingers arching up her bare back, drawing small circles on the exposed flesh beneath her shirt. She felt dizzy.
“What? Might get caught?” He pulled back a breath and smiled lazily. “What would they say?”
She bit her lip and pondered his question: they were more than just some fling, or a secret affair kept to closets and bathroom stalls and the back of his X-Terra. He wasn’t some rebound crush, or substitute for Duncan, or Lilly, or her mother-or any of the other pieces in his life. He was Logan, and he made her feel alive - with his hands, his mouth, his eyes.
“That we’re epic,” she whispered.
*
Fin
And the lyrics to “I think we’re alone now”
"Children, behave!"
That's what they say when we're together
"And watch how you play!"
They don't understand
And so we're running just as fast as we can
Holding onto one another's hand
Trying to get away into the night
And then you put your arms around me and we tumble to the ground
And then you say, "I think we're alone now
There doesn't seem to be anyone around
I think we're alone now
The beating of our hearts is the only sound."
Look at the way
We've gotta hide what we're doing
Cause what would they say
If they ever knew?
And so we're running just as fast as we can
Holding onto one another's hand
Trying to get away into the night
And then you put your arms around me and we tumble to the ground
And then you say, "I think we're alone now
There doesn't seem to be anyone around
I think we're alone now
The beating of our hearts is the only sound."
"I think we're alone now
There doesn't seem to be anyone around
I think we're alone now
The beating of our hearts is the only sound."
"I think we're alone now
There doesn't seem to be anyone around
I think we're alone now
Author: Hillary (hillaryrobson@gmail.com)
Pairing: Logan and Veronica
Rating: PG-13, for a bit of naughty language
Spoilers: Through 2x20, "Look Who’s Stalking Now"
Summary: Their story wasn’t epic
AN: Written for the Cheesy Love Challenge. I’d had a whole other story that I’d been working on, and then I had to see 2x20 and it worked better with my song, which is “I think we’re alone now” by Tiffany. Warning: total fluffiness ensues.
Their story wasn’t epic. It wasn’t anything more than a chapter in a tawdry novella. Even better: a few lines scrawled on a page, something about running away from the truth, from each other, with scissors in their hands. Or maybe a poem, the kind about sadness and despair and anguish and never-there emotions. Not that she’d ever written poetry, not that they made poetry together, or even music. No, all they had ever managed to make was lines in the sand with angry eyes and promises that neither could keep.
Epic was a joke-Epic was something…something Logan Echolls couldn’t possibly understand.
There was a time in her life that she believed in love stories. That she had her white knight and poetry on fortune cookie strips, where she’d been willing to gamble everything for love. But after all the lies, all the disillusionment, she was ready to accept that her life was destined to be one of perpetual disappointment.
Veronica spent Sunday at the beach after leaving Logan’s room and finding Kendall there, her serpentine eyes and hands all over her (ex) boyfriend. Epic. Their conversation the night before and that morning replayed itself over and over in her head, until the sun set, the air got cold, and she got tired of feeling sorry for herself and crying. She’d gone to bed that night exhausted by emotion, but unable to sleep: staring up at the ceiling, bleary eyed and weary, wondering when (if ever) she’d be able to understand why it was that she’d let herself care so much about someone obviously incapable of feeling anything without six bottles of champagne in his system.
After contemplating skipping classes on Monday, she dragged herself out of bed and resolved not to think about him. By third period she was considering crying but wouldn’t, and when he passed her in the hallway she avoided eye contact, despite his “Veronica, Veronica…” as she strode past him. From the corner of her eyes she noticed that he was wearing the standard tortured Echoll’s expression of barely covered up anguish, and somewhere, deep in the depth of her soul, she’s glad to see that he was suffering. Even if it was just on the surface. He’d always been good at manipulation.
Knowing that didn’t make things any easier. Lunch was spent picking over a wilted salad and sipping lukewarm Diet Coke while Jackie and Wallace make out across the table. When Wallace slipped a hand up Jackie’s barely there skirt Veronica couldn’t hold back her caustic “Children, behave,” winning an incredulous stare from Wallace and a giggle from Jackie.
“Why you so down, Veronica?” Wallace’s grin would have normally been infectious, but couldn’t quite penetrate her wall of just below the surface despair.
“Nothing.” She mumbled, “I’m sorry,” and stood, “Got a paper to finish. See you lovebirds later.”
“Cheer up, V. Our high school days are almost over,” Wallace winked and then resumed his make out session with his girlfriend.
“Yeah,” she muttered, slinging her bag over her shoulder and offered a weak smile. Her eyes focused on the ground as she maneuvered the throngs of laughing students: the end of the year had a way of making everyone way too happy go lucky, and Wallace’s comment about high school had managed to bring up a wave of remembering… Logan’s words about her leaving and them not seeing each other, and once again she was chastising herself for being such a fool.
Veronica trudged down the quiet hallway, found the first closed door with the lights out, and slunk in the nearest desk. Slinking down into the seat, she buried her head in folded arms and willed away the tears. She didn’t want to cry (again) but found that attempts at prevention only made emotional breakdowns all the more appealing.
“I think we’re alone now,” She lifted her head sharply at the sound of Logan’s voice. He was across the room, slouched in a chair, wearing the same miserable expression.
“I was just leaving,” Veronica bit out, hearing that her voice, instead of simmering rage, sounded weak.
“No. Stay. Please.” He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced. “Look, Veronica, I--”
“If you’re going to apologize, don’t. I have to admit, Logan, I’m a bit wise to how they’re a dime a dozen. I’m just not willing to listen to you anymore.” Veronica dared to meet his eyes and was surprised to find her words had managed some kind of effect on him.
“I, uh…” He swallowed, and she felt a twinge of…something…by the way he looked so uncomfortable. She tried to fight it back, but instead remained in her seat, watching him with weary eyes and attempting, however unsuccessfully, to stay calm. Unemotional. Rational.
“Why were you with Kendall? Wait a second, don’t answer that, okay. I don’t care. It’s obvious why you were with her-I mean, you just have to call “1-800-EZWhore” and she’s there in less than fifteen minutes or your money back, right?” She sighed, defeated. “You know what-- it’s none of my business. I don’t…you know what? I don’t care why you were with her. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you for taking what you said to heart. I blame the whole end of the high school thing on my temporary insanity.”
Veronica bent and picked up her bag, “I’m out of here. See you later, Logan. Or, not.”
“Why are you running, Veronica? You’re always running, and as much as I want to catch up with you, I can’t.” He shifted in the seat, his voice getting softer as he continued, “I want to be mad at you, but I can’t, because I’m mad at myself. I’m the one that fucked up-the one that keeps fucking up. I know I’m no good for you, I know I’m not, but it doesn’t change the fact that I want you. So bad I can taste it. And there’s times that I just…”
She couldn’t listen to this. True confessions with Logan was not on her agenda; not today, not ever. Because he had a way of making things sound pretty and real, he had a way of making her feel all the things she didn’t want to feel. She was done with him. Done with this book, this chapter, this whatever. She was ready for the epic to be over.
“Logan, please.” Veronica tried sounding angry but her words were brittle. He was breaking her, bruising her, making her all weak kneed and fuzzy. It was something no one - not even Duncan - had ever been able to do to her. He was her weakness, and she was done feeling weak. Finished.
This line of internal reasoning did nothing to explain why she was walking across the room to him. “I meant what I said yesterday, that I-I don’t want us to lose touch. We’re friends, right? We’ll always be friends. And I’ve lost enough in my life to know that I’m tired of people disappearing.”
“I still love you.” He whispered, “I love you, Veronica. What do I have to do to prove that to you?”
“Don’t say you love me, when you don’t even remember--” She swiped at the tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes, swallowing back a sob, “I said I wasn’t going to do this. I also said I was leaving, and I am. I can’t-I just won’t--”
He stood up, his eyes shining with an emotion she couldn’t decipher. How easy it was to get lost in those eyes, in a way she thought she was incapable of, that fairy tale romance way where she couldn’t feel the ground beneath her feet and the only thing she could hear was her heartbeat-their heartbeats-as he got close enough for her to touch him.
And in a flash she asked herself why she’d not just given in on Saturday night. Why she hadn’t let him touch her and kiss her believe what he had to say. Because, maybe-if she hadn’t left, hadn’t gotten spooked, hadn’t been so damn afraid of what Logan was capable of doing to her, then maybe things would be different. Maybe they’d have been different all along.
“Why do we keep doing this? Why can’t we just…?” He leaned in, pressing his forehead against her. She breathed out and in, wanting and not wanting to move as he put his arms around her and pulled her to him. “This isn’t a game. We’re not kids, Veronica…I just want you to know that I…”
“That you love me,” her voice was small in the space between them. She could barely stand, and the small part of her brain that was still rational blamed her lack of sleep on her current emotional status. “You keep saying it but…”
“But what?” She started to respond but was stopped by his mouth on hers, soft at first but then more insistent, and the world seemed to collide with her as his hands slid down her back and to her hips, drawing her closer as his tongue slid across hers. She couldn’t repress the moan that welled within her as she clutched his shirt and buried herself closer, couldn’t stop from falling as they sunk to the floor. He moved one hand to the back of her head and broke contact long enough to trail a line of kisses down her jawline, to her throat, his lips branding her as they captured her ear lobe, making her gasp from the pure electricity. All she could feel was him, the only sound their breathing, raspy, ragged, desperate.
“Logan, we…” she managed to speak in between his assault-like kisses, “we need to stop. Lunch is almost over, we might be…” She was distracted by his fingers arching up her bare back, drawing small circles on the exposed flesh beneath her shirt. She felt dizzy.
“What? Might get caught?” He pulled back a breath and smiled lazily. “What would they say?”
She bit her lip and pondered his question: they were more than just some fling, or a secret affair kept to closets and bathroom stalls and the back of his X-Terra. He wasn’t some rebound crush, or substitute for Duncan, or Lilly, or her mother-or any of the other pieces in his life. He was Logan, and he made her feel alive - with his hands, his mouth, his eyes.
“That we’re epic,” she whispered.
*
Fin
And the lyrics to “I think we’re alone now”
"Children, behave!"
That's what they say when we're together
"And watch how you play!"
They don't understand
And so we're running just as fast as we can
Holding onto one another's hand
Trying to get away into the night
And then you put your arms around me and we tumble to the ground
And then you say, "I think we're alone now
There doesn't seem to be anyone around
I think we're alone now
The beating of our hearts is the only sound."
Look at the way
We've gotta hide what we're doing
Cause what would they say
If they ever knew?
And so we're running just as fast as we can
Holding onto one another's hand
Trying to get away into the night
And then you put your arms around me and we tumble to the ground
And then you say, "I think we're alone now
There doesn't seem to be anyone around
I think we're alone now
The beating of our hearts is the only sound."
"I think we're alone now
There doesn't seem to be anyone around
I think we're alone now
The beating of our hearts is the only sound."
"I think we're alone now
There doesn't seem to be anyone around
I think we're alone now