Theory Of Convergence: Veronica Mars: V/L
Title: Theory of Convergence
Chapter: [11] Revelations
Author: tlace
Pairing/Character: Veronica/Logan, Veronica/Duncan, Logan/Lilly, with appearances by, pretty much, every Marsverse character ever
Word Count: 5550
Rating: PG-13 - drinking, suggested drug-use & adult situations.
Summary: WIP begins pre-series, Veronica’s birthday is the jumping off point. Veronica and Logan are left behind when the Kane kids unexpectedly leave for the summer
Spoilers: Season 1
Warnings: Each part will have its own rating
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of Veronica Mars. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thanks to Heather (heather13 ) & Roz (afrocurl ) for the beta help on this chapter!
Thanks to Logan’s charm - the same charm that made her father briefly consider electrified fencing and guard dogs - Veronica was allowed to stay out until the wee hours the night before. Of course, a large part of that time was spent half-listening to Logan’s side of a phone conversation with Keith while coaxing Lara Croft to do her virtual bidding.
It wasn’t until Veronica had made it to the nineteenth level of the game - bleary eyed and barely able to see what she was shooting at anymore - that Logan came to join her again on the floor, wordlessly offering a couple of pillows for her to sit on and his shoulder for her head so she could play - the hardest level yet - in as much comfort as possible.
The leaving was, again, filled with all sorts of loaded moments, but this time Veronica managed to get in her car and up the drive without making a complete ass of herself. Arriving home exhausted, physically and emotionally, she drifted easily off to sleep with just a few minutes spent thinking of Logan.
Thankfully she remembered to set her alarm and woke up in time to get ready, making it into the cruiser five minutes before her father, who seemed more than a little surprised that she made it up at all.
Despite spending the entire day working the meager crowd at the Y - Keith pulling out all the stops with jokes, amateur magic tricks and free pens - the Job Fair was a bust. Between the two of them, Keith and Veronica only managed to get three people to even come near their booth and only one of those poor suckers bothered to fill out an application; the résumé he offered them handwritten on notebook paper stained with a coffee ring.
When they return home they find two plates covered in tin-foil on the counter - a note from Lianne with instructions on how to heat them in the microwave taped on top - next to a mysterious box wrapped in brown paper and adorned with a small card that simply reads, “Mr. Mars.”
Even before he slides his finger beneath the scotch-taped flap Veronica can see that her dad is bouncing on his toes, his face spread gleeful with an obnoxiously wide grin.
“You finally order that Ken Burns Baseball DVD box set?” she asks, eyeing her father skeptically.
“Nope,” Keith replies, tearing into the paper and revealing the treasure inside.
“Is that an Xbox?” Veronica asks rhetorically, a bizarre feeling of distrust coming over her.
“That’s what I’m told,” Keith mutters, quickly opening the package without looking at his daughter.
“Okay. And when exactly did you take up gaming?”
“Twenty-eight seconds ago.”
“Mm-hmm,” she murmurs, playfully crossing her arms. “Who sent it?” she asks, fairly certain she already knows the answer.
When Keith doesn’t respond, seeming too focused on removing the contents of the carton, her suspicions are confirmed and she is instantly sure of where it came from. “Logan.”
Again Keith ignores her statement and she feels her stomach do a strange flip, her brow bending into a confused and mildly-irritated wrinkle. “Dad?”
Shrugging he looks at her with an unapologetic expression. “I think it’s pretty cool, sending your old man a video… machine… thingy.”
“It’s called a gaming system, and you don’t even know how it works.”
“But the important thing is I am now able to annihilate stuff.”
“Mom will be thrilled. And did you know that Logan was going to buy you…” she trails off, leaning down to dig through what remains in the package, “…Oh, about five, maybe six-hundred dollars worth of games and machine ‘thingies’?”
“Logan had an extra one,” Keith explains, casually brushing it off, “One of several his dad got at some thing for some film of his… seems Aaron doesn’t ‘game’.”
“Hmm. And it doesn’t feel at all inappropriate to you?”
“Should it?”
“I don’t know,” she responds, feeling suddenly sheepish, “but I can imagine how you’d react if Duncan sent you a box of high end electronics.”
“Veronica…” he begins to soothe, but she isn’t listening.
“I just think it’s really interesting…” she begins, barely able to speak the words and definitely not able to look Keith in the eye, “…telling, really, that I’ve been seeing Duncan for months and he can’t catch a break, but Logan waltzes in and wins you over with video games.”.
“Logan didn’t win me over with this,” Keith explains obviously, gesturing to the gift in front of them.
“So he did. Win you over.”
Shrugging, Keith’s face softens further as he takes in a deep breath and agrees, “Yes.” Pausing a moment, Keith leans in to get Veronica’s attention before he asks, “And do you want to know why?”
“Not really,” she lies through a half-hearted pout, “but I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”
Which he does.
“Because he took time to get to know me, to tell me a thing or two about himself and…”
“So, what, one extended phone conversation and ‘presto’ instant admiration?” she comments indignantly, afraid to allow her father to make a rational argument. “I thought you didn’t like any guy trying to take your little girl from you.”
“I’m confused, Veronica, are you having trouble with my admiration for Logan, or yours?” Keith asks his tone one of concern, something which - oddly - irritates her more than if he’d just snapped the words at her.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she bites, the sound of her voice high and foreign to her, as though she’s responding to an entirely different discussion. The guilt shoots through her and she tries frantically to think of some way to turn this around or make sense of everything, but her head just spins as she blurts, “I suppose you’d prefer that I dump Duncan and start dating Logan? I mean, since you’re suddenly BFFs and all.”
“I never said I don’t like Duncan.”
“You never said you did.”
Sighing, he presses his eyes shut briefly before insisting, “Honey, all I’m trying to do here is support you,” his voice back to its usual compassionate tone.
“Then why does it feel like something else?” she gulps, sensing herself slowly shifting from anxious to calm, but still not wanting to give in to what’s becoming more and more obvious with each passing second.
“Maybe because you’re projecting, making this about everything it’s not,” he suggests, sliding over to stand next to her and wrap his arm around her shoulder.
The revelation is too spot-on for her to ignore but she won’t allow herself to admit her father is right, at least not yet, so she continues to look away, saying nothing.
“I’m surprised, Veronica, I didn’t think I’d have to defend myself for liking Logan” Keith says, squeezing her playfully.
Rolling her eyes she gives it a last ditch effort. “After five minutes of chit chat?”
“Five minutes, five hours, you’d be amazed what you can learn if you know how to ask.” He pauses seemingly for her benefit - to allow her to take in his tone - his face colored with fatherly understanding. “And I learned a lot.”
Properly embarrassed by her own strange bitterness, she looks down before responding, her voice barely cracking above a whisper. “Like what?”
“Like the most important thing…” Keith replies, curling her into a gentle hug and pressing a kiss to her hair, “how genuinely he cares about you.”
“He told you that?” she chokes out, a tingling sensation seeping into her chest as she leans back to look up at Keith.
“More or less,” he admits, giving her a tender smile and a quick squeeze before letting her go.
Shuddering out a nervous chuckle, covering her eyes with her hand, Veronica groans, “Wow, I don’t know where all that came from.”
“I think I do.”
Nodding at his suggestion, Veronica runs her hands through her hair as she blows out another deep breath. “I’m sorry, Dad,” she apologizes; irritated with herself on many levels but mostly because of how she treated her father. “I didn’t mean to get so upset.”
“Hmm. Happens to the best of us,” Keith assures.
“I just wonder sometimes… what I’m doing, what’s going to happen next.”
“That I can’t help you with, sweetheart,” Keith offers, taking her hand and holding it between both of his, “Just do what makes you happy.”
She nods again, giving Keith an appreciative smile.
“So,” he announces abruptly, clapping his hands and rubbing them together excitedly, “how about taking your old Dad on?” he says, offering her a controller.
“Sorry, got plans. You’re going to have to annihilate all on your own.”
“What? You’re not going to stay, take it for a trial run?”
“Slumber party,” she offers with a shrug as she pecks his cheek and heads for her room, “Pizza, gossip and tears. Can’t wait!”
“Fine,” he harrumphs, “Go do girl stuff. Me? I’ll be here, testing out…” he reaches for one of the game cases, “Oo, Halo. I’ve actually heard of this one.”
“Yeah, twelve hours ago,” she comments sarcastically, turning around to look at him, “but Logan did say it’s the best.”
“Maybe I’ll call him, see if he wants to play,” he teases her with a wink, “since we are BFFs and all.”
***
After spending over an hour selecting just what to wear, and what to pack - fretting about her choices the entire drive over - Veronica arrives at Angie’s door to a chorus of squeals and giggles, greeted by each and every girl in attendance before the entire group herds her upstairs to Angie’s ‘room’; a very large, very pink space delicately decorated and neatly arranged.
For the moment at least, it is just Veronica surrounded by Angie’s closest followers and no one whom she would consider herself the least bit chummy, so she feels out of place - hyper-aware of every move - and too wrapped up in thinking about what to say to actually say anything at all. She’s simply watching them all as they chat and advise and primp when, suddenly, Angie is at her side, gently cupping her elbow and leading her away.
“Come with me,” she whispers, easily slipping Veronica past the oblivious girls down a short hall to a set of French doors which she opens to reveal yet another enormous area that is, apparently, her actual bedroom.
“My oasis,” Angie announces gesturing dramatically to the immaculate room, less frilly than what Veronica now deduces was the parlor - or possibly her closet - and much more modern. The furnishings look like something out of Architectural Digest but with a feminine touch and Veronica deduces, from Angie’s proclamation, that she had a lot more to do with the decorating of this space, than the other.
A spicy, vanilla aroma fills the air as Veronica steps inside, accompanied by the sounds of a brook or waterfall emanating from somewhere she can’t quite pinpoint. There are lit candles on every surface and several large pieces of art - paintings and sketches that appear to be authentic and pricey - lining the walls.
“There are only a few of us staying in here,” Angie offers, with a perky, conspiratory giggle, “so feel free to spread your things out. Once you’re settled come down to the kitchen, the caterers just finished setting up.”
Before Veronica can say anything Angie pivots on her toes and bounces out, giving a friendly wave before shutting the door quietly behind her.
Just minutes after choosing an empty corner - away from all the other sleeping bags - and beginning to unpack her things, Veronica is startled to hear the door click open and see Meg come bounding in, her face lighting up as she exhales a relieved breath. “Thank God you’re here!”
“Right back ‘atcha,” Veronica chuckles.
“May I?” Meg asks, suggesting the place next to Veronica.
“Yeah. Of course,” Veronica insists, “So you’re part of the elite force then?”
“Oh, you mean Angie’s ‘Inner Sanctum’?” she affirms with a theatrical sigh.
Veronica nods.
“Yeah. I stopped being impressed when I realized it meant I was trapped in here all night with Angie, who doesn’t stop talking until she’s so tired she can no longer form words,” Meg giggles, reaching into her bag to pull out her iPod, “It’s why I always bring this.”
“Well tonight, you have me,” Veronica offers, smiling.
“Even better,” Meg says, returning her smile before shoving the iPod back into her bag. “How did Angie manage to talk you in to coming anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did she promise you one of the custom-order purses from her mother’s boutique?” Meg asks, her eyes crinkled in thought, “Oh, wait, I bet it was a trip to Melrose!”
Surprised at the idea that someone would have to be bribed to spend the evening eating catered food, getting their nails done and generally just being a girl - even if it involves hanging out with a bunch of Barbies - Veronica can’t think of how to answer, other than truthfully. “She invited me,” she confesses with a shrug, still confused.
It takes Meg a second to realize that Veronica isn’t kidding. “Oh. I’m sorry,” she says, her face awash in a strange expression, “It’s just that…” Meg pauses, considering what to say or maybe how to say it, “…I guess I figured you didn’t like these things.”
“Why?”
“Because you never come to them.”
“So, these get-togethers, they uh, happen a lot?”
“A couple of times a month at least. Of course, they’re not all this elaborate,” Meg offers, rolling her eyes at Angie’s extravagance. “We each take turns hosting… except me. My parents are, um, stringent to say the least.”
There’s a swirl of nausea sloshing in her stomach all of a sudden as Veronica starts calculating how many months there are in a year and multiplying that by how many years she’s known all these girls, and she can feel her mouth drying up and her face starting to fill with color, which Meg must notice because she unexpectedly squeezes Veronicas hand and assures, “You know you’re on the list, right?”
“Hmm?” Veronica mumbles, trying to focus.
“Every time there’s a sleepover, get-together, whatever, you’re right at the top,” Meg says, matter of fact, “You and Lilly are like the guests to have at anything.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. I probably shouldn’t tell you but…” Meg stops, looking around - as though there might actually be someone besides them in the cavernous and obviously empty room - finally whispering, “Angie was so nervous, she called me after she ran into you at the mall and said she practically died when you didn’t say ‘no’ to her invitation.”
“She seemed pretty confident to me,” Veronica chokes, still adjusting and trying to steady her breathing.
“It’s all a show,” Meg assures, “trust me.”
An uncomfortable expression briefly crosses Meg’s face as she appears to be figuring something out, maybe dissecting a problem. When she finally meets Veronica’s eyes again, there’s an awkwardness in her voice as she continues, “So why tonight?”
“I’m sorry?”
“What made you decide to show this time?” Meg clarifies, still looking a tiny bit sheepish.
Stunned at having to explain, Veronica stammers, “Uh, I just…well, I thought it would be a fun thing to do. Different from the norm, you know?”
“Oh.”
“Why?”
“Well…” Meg trails off, eyes darting around the room as she seems to consider how to broach whatever subject she’s considering, “… it’s just that… I’ve been the one to deliver your invitation three times… I always slip it in your locker or drop it by your house,” she stops, looking like she isn’t sure if she should continue, “…and every time I do you, well… you show. You and Lilly.”
“Okay…and when someone else delivers the invitation?” Veronica asks, hesitant, still attempting to understand where this is going.
“Madison typically volunteers to deliver the invitations,” Meg replies, a certain suggestion in the way she inflects her words.
“Huh,” Veronica sighs, not entirely shocked that Madison would go out of her way to make sure Veronica feels left out, but hurt by it none the less.
“I just figured that when Madison delivered the invite you immediately dropped it in the trash,” Meg offers, possibly in response to the sinking look on Veronica’s face.
“And Lilly?”
“I actually witnessed her handing one back to Madison once.”
When Veronica doesn’t comment, Meg reaches out, gently squeezing her shoulder. “Until tonight, I think we all just figured you stayed home because Lilly did.”
Trying to gather up some control, Veronica inhales deeply and ignores the nagging thought that she remembers being invited to exactly three of these girl nights before - despite ”being on the list” - and the fact that on the rare occasion Madison actually speaks to Veronica it seems like she either has an ulterior motive or is just blatantly being a bitch.
But instead of trying to digest all of this new information, Veronica shakes the thoughts loose and - comforted by her best friend’s solidarity - focuses on the fact that she’s here and Meg is really nice and that she, Veronica Mars, is one of “the guests to have at anything,” with or - apparently - without Lilly.
Appearing to understand the inner-dialogue that just transpired Meg asks, perky and supportive as ever, “You good?”
Nodding again, Veronica can feel her cheeks relax into a satisfied grin, which Meg mirrors. “Yeah,” she admits with a breathy chuckle, “I’m great.”
***
After eating themselves to near bursting, Meg and Veronica are paired off from the rest of the group, sharing a bench - and a pilfered bottle of champagne - on Angie’s balcony, which overlooks the pool where all the 09er parents, dressed to the nines, are chattering and drinking as they float between groups and conversations, none of them appearing genuinely interested in anyone but themselves.
Staring down at the party below, Veronica taps her foot to music from a band playing on the other end the patio, the melody seeming to hover just beneath the trees - which are glowing with little white lights intertwined in their branches - setting a mood that compliments the delicate sparkle from the hundreds of candles floating on the top of the water, all the light flickering up and casting spotty shadows on Meg’s cheeks as she points out who’s who, making sure to include a fact or two about everyone that Veronica would otherwise not have known.
All the women look alike to Veronica - even those with whom she’s familiar - each one beautiful, elegant and well-toned - a lot of free time spent at Pilates and with their trainers Veronica imagines - just the shade of blonde in their hair and the color of their dresses allowing her to tell them apart.
The men are varying degrees of attractive, but they are all well-dressed and have a certain manner about them, like even if you saw them on the street in casual clothes you would know they are powerful and wealthy, just by the way the carry themselves. But they all share the same look of mild-boredom, perking up only when they’re forced by their wives to involve themselves in a conversation or when one of the pert little waitresses comes by, giving them a chance to flirt while they freshen up their cocktail.
“Do you suppose that will be us someday?” Meg asks dreamily, passing the bottle to Veronica before crossing her arms along the railing for a place to rest her chin.
“I-I hadn’t thought about it.”
Flashing a skeptical grin Meg states the obvious, “You’re dating Duncan Kane.”
“Okay, I’ve thought about it…” Veronica confesses, smiling back, “Just not the part where I drag him to a dull-but-excessive party so I can spend the evening calculating the calories in a canapé, while he plays grab-ass with some server-slash-actress behind the pool house.”
“Mmm,” Meg mutters wondering, “more the part where he worships the ground you walk on and buys you diamonds and Birkin bags?”
Giggling, Veronica nods excitedly, “And a pony.”
“Oh yes, every girl needs a pony,” Meg agrees with laugh.
Suddenly, a loud scraping from outside the window on the opposite wall interrupts their shared merriment and sends a unison scream through the rest of the group. Several of the girls huddle together - proving all the horror films Veronica’s ever watched correct - seeming to wait for something to happen. Then everyone notices the foliage of the tree outside begin to shake, there’s another round of squeals and “oh my gods” before a hand reaches up and knocks on the window, making the girls jump up and scurry to the farthest corner of the room.
After some more eerie clatter and rustling, there’s the faint sound of someone swearing and then Dick’s face abruptly pops up into view as he seems to lose his balance and fall towards them, his cheek now pressed against the glass. “Can someone help me?” he whimpers.
No one moves except Madison - the one person Veronica has spent the evening avoiding - who giggles with delight as she flits over to open the sash.
"Dick!" she coos loudly as she throws her arms around him, squashing her lips to his cheek in a loud smooch and Veronica’s face is instantly crinkled in a mix of confusion and disgust, still unsure how that particular coupling happened, and which of them got the shorter end of that deal.
“Hey, Sugar-lumps,” he groans as he finds his footing, on what Veronica can only surmise is a ladder. “You and the ladies should meet us in the rec room," Dick suggests, clinging to the frame with one arm and presenting his damsel a large bottle of what appears to be vodka - stolen from his father’s ample liquor cabinet no doubt - with the other.
"Okay,” she titters, “just give us a few minutes to make ourselves presentable."
"All right, but don't make me wait too long, Little Dickie needs some company."
A girly, flirty laugh escapes her as Madison curls her arms around him again, planting a sloppy kiss directly on his lips, there may be tongue but Veronica turns away too fast to be sure, cringing at the thought of the two of them humping away in the electrical closet.
“Okay girls," Angie announces, "the party is moving downstairs.”
***
Once Dick climbs down from the window, the girls reapply their make-up - in a cloud of hairspray and perfume - before heading downstairs, while Meg and Veronica continue to loiter in Angie’s room, still assessing the adult soiree and sipping what’s left of their expensive bubbly.
“We could go,” Meg suggests through a hint of a slur, lifting the dark green bottle to the light to check its contents.
“I suppose, but who’s going to drive?” Veronica asks, “Because I think I might be what some people would call ‘tipsy’.”
“Is that what they call it?”
Smirking, Veronica downs the champagne that’s left in the glass she found in Angie’s ridiculously large bathroom, and places it on the table next to her. “I say we make an appearance downstairs and then slip out to the pool and snatch something from that dessert table.”
Eyes instantly alight, Meg stops drinking and sets the almost-empty bottle loudly on the marble floor, “That is an excellent idea,” she agrees, hefting herself up from the club chair she’s been lounging in and offering Veronica her arm.
***
As Veronica and Meg walk past Angie's oblivious parents - who are standing in the kitchen, whisper-yelling at each other over a platter of pâté, in between screeching directions at the wait staff - on their way to the rec room, they can hear the boisterous chatter drifting up the stairs and start to worry that Dick brought half their male classmates with him, a fear which is confirmed when they get to the bottom of the steps and see the quantity of people filling the room.
“Are you sure you don’t want to leave?” Meg huffs, with playful disappointment.
“Five minutes. Then it’s you, me and baklava,” Veronica says with a wink.
Nodding, Meg lets go of Veronica’s arm and heads into the fray, while Veronica scans the room hopeful but not expecting to see Logan. A moment later Dick scampers up and greets Veronica with a “What brings you here, pretty lady?”
“Slumber party, Dick” she replies, her expression and tone both tinged with mild exasperation. “How about you?” she asks, mostly to be polite but also to mock him a little. “Just couldn’t stand to be away from Madison for the whole evening?”
“What?” he wonders, brow momentarily bent in confusion until he seems to understand what and who she’s talking about, “Naw, ten minutes is plenty. This was Logan's idea....”
“Logan’s here?” she interrupts, immediately scolding herself for not hiding her excitement better.
But Dick is oblivious, “Yeah. I think he’s in the can.”
“Oh,” she comments, more calmly this time but her heart is stilling beating a mile a minute.
Then Dick puffs out a sigh and whines, “First night he hasn’t been A-O-L.”
“Did you mean A-W-O-L? AWOL?”
“Yeah. Been too busy for me,” he mopes, breathing out a resigned sigh and explaining, “but he made his booty call around 8, like I had nothing better to do than participate in a panty raid on some lame PG-13 slumber party.”
Veronica can only look at him.
“I mean come on, what’s with the cotton? Where are the peek-a-boo nighties and girl kisses?” he asks, seeming truly irritated. “He missed Enbom’s Evening of Depravity for a book club or something and now he wants to skip a trip to TJ for this?” Dick waves his arms around suggesting the party, as though it might as well be an insurance seminar. “Having his Bit…,” he cuts himself short, glancing at Veronica to gauge her reaction before continuing, “…I mean his Lady, out of town has done something to his priorities.”
“Mm-hmm,” Veronica groans, taking in a breath, “and you’ve been back from Hawaii for what?”
“Day and a half. But a lot of damage can be done in that time,” he defends. “And hey, look at you, your boyfriend isn’t around and you manage to hang with your pals, right?” he asks, not seeming to care if he gets an answer, then muttering, “I don’t know what his deal is.”
“How was John’s, by the way?” Veronica asks, happy to change the subject.
“Naked and bouncy…‘til it got busted,” he complains, “Early too, like nine or ten. Heard the sirens and we all scattered. Well, most of us anyway,” he turns his attention back to the party - nodding seductively across the room at Angie who rolls her eyes and turns away - still grumbling, “I told Enbom not to invite the deputies.”
This shocking information hits Veronica like a ton of bricks and she immediately perks up, her stomach suddenly churning with a strange anxiety, “What?”
“Yeah, jackass thought he’d be free and clear if he had half the county payroll nose deep in silicone.” Dick looks down at Veronica then and gripes, “But some douche called in an ‘anonymous tip’ and the plebes came bustin’ in the door like it was the Wild West or something.”
“You stick around?”
“I was high.”
Veronica nods, “And?”
“I hid in the wine cellar,” he admits with an unapologetic shrug.
“They arrest anyone?”
“We’re all here,” he explains with a lilt that suggests the obvious as he gestures to the males in the room. “They just grabbed the other uniforms. Which was awesome,” he chuckles and slaps Veronica on the back. “I don’t know who was more nervous: the ones who got caught or the ones doing the catching. Well, ‘cept the total a-hole leading the charge.”
“Lamb?” Veronica asks, already knowing the answer.
“I guess.”
An enormous imaginary light bulb goes off above Veronica’s head as she realizes why her father was more than happy to accept Logan - and his gift - and why she spent the morning at a job fair frantically trying to hire deputies. It’s then that she sees Logan slide through the crowd, eyes searching, and every inch of her relaxes.
“See ya, Dick,” she says abruptly, absently patting his arm and ignoring his protests before walking over to talk to Logan, who slyly slips over to an unoccupied area.
“Hi,” he whispers as she walks up to meet him.
“Hi.”
“Surprised to see me?”
“A little,” she chokes, biting at her lip, “Wanna get out of here?”
“Probably not a good idea,” he admits through a disheartened sigh.
“Why?” she asks, thinking of several reasons of her own, and dismissing all of them.
“Mm, ‘cause I’ve had a couple of cocktails and…” he looks around briefly before stepping into her to gently grab the hem of her shirt and using it to spin her down a neighboring hallway, “…no telling what I might do,” he says as he corrals her closer to him.
Swallowing hard, Veronica can feel the heat coming from the closeness between them, causing her skin to erupt into millions of tiny goose bumps.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he confesses, his voice shaky.
“Yeah?” she replies, voice shaking as she leans back against the wall.
Still holding tight to her shirt, Logan follows until he’s nearly on top of her and leans his head against hers, nodding “Mm-hmm,” he shudders out his answer, “non-stop.”
Desperate to control her breathing which is too loud and coming in fits - like her heartbeat - she tries to concentrate, to get her mind off of Logan and his closeness - and the fact that they’re essentially alone - to try and think of something to say or do. But before she can, he leans in, his cheek brushing hers as he breathes out against her skin, the scent of something fruity and alcoholic fills the surrounding air leaving her momentarily incoherent.
“God, I missed you,” he murmurs next to her ear, eliciting a noise, a moan of some sort, from deep in her throat and she wonders how she’s even got the strength to stand right now, much less the will not to press her lips to his.
It takes a moment before she feels herself finally having some control, some semblance of cognitive thought, and she takes a deep breath, blowing out all the pressure in her chest before admitting, “I missed you, too…”
The words are cathartic - a weight off her chest - so she goes with the feeling, pressing her eyes shut for just a second before continuing, “... I tried not to, told myself I shouldn’t, but the job fair was awful… I wanted to call you so many times and there’s not enough champagne in the world to take my mind off…”
“Don’t,” he slurs, as his hand moves up to her waist, the warmth from it seeping through her shirt to the skin beneath.
“Don’t what?” she asks through a jolt of anxiety, her heart racing so fast she thinks it might have stopped all-together.
Shaking his head and suddenly pulling away, Logan toddles backwards, landing awkwardly against the opposite wall, he looks at her through bleary eyes. “I should go.”
“What? Why?”
“Because…,” he begins, standing up again and walking straight up to her, his mouth instantly just a breaths length from hers as he slips his hands up to cup her face, keeping an inch of distance as he hovers his lips near hers, slowly circling, seeming to be looking for a place to land.
And she can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t even blink as she watches his eyes fluttering shut. All she can hear is the faintest, distant hum of the party and her own pounding heart. She swallows, gritting her teeth, bracing herself for what seems inevitable but then, just as quickly as the moment appeared, it’s gone. Logan seems to shake from his reverie, sucking in a loud breath and abruptly pulling back to stare at her, his eyes heavy, his mouth slightly open like he’s about to say something.
But he presses his lips closed instead and, with a slight nod in her direction, turns on his heel and heads for the door, wordlessly yanking Casey by the shirt to follow him.
“Dick! Dude! We’re leaving,” Casey shouts across the room, thumbing towards the door and tapping at his watch. “Thirty seconds!”
Staggered and still waiting for her lungs to take in a breath, Veronica can only stand there, watching through the large open doorway that faces the gardens, Logan’s retreating frame getting smaller and smaller as he crosses gracelessly through the maze of flowers and shrubs to the back gate, struggling with the latch before swinging it open and heaving himself out of the yard and out of sight.
Chapter: [11] Revelations
Author: tlace
Pairing/Character: Veronica/Logan, Veronica/Duncan, Logan/Lilly, with appearances by, pretty much, every Marsverse character ever
Word Count: 5550
Rating: PG-13 - drinking, suggested drug-use & adult situations.
Summary: WIP begins pre-series, Veronica’s birthday is the jumping off point. Veronica and Logan are left behind when the Kane kids unexpectedly leave for the summer
Spoilers: Season 1
Warnings: Each part will have its own rating
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of Veronica Mars. No copyright infringement is intended.
Notes: Thanks to Heather (heather13 ) & Roz (afrocurl ) for the beta help on this chapter!
Thanks to Logan’s charm - the same charm that made her father briefly consider electrified fencing and guard dogs - Veronica was allowed to stay out until the wee hours the night before. Of course, a large part of that time was spent half-listening to Logan’s side of a phone conversation with Keith while coaxing Lara Croft to do her virtual bidding.
It wasn’t until Veronica had made it to the nineteenth level of the game - bleary eyed and barely able to see what she was shooting at anymore - that Logan came to join her again on the floor, wordlessly offering a couple of pillows for her to sit on and his shoulder for her head so she could play - the hardest level yet - in as much comfort as possible.
The leaving was, again, filled with all sorts of loaded moments, but this time Veronica managed to get in her car and up the drive without making a complete ass of herself. Arriving home exhausted, physically and emotionally, she drifted easily off to sleep with just a few minutes spent thinking of Logan.
Thankfully she remembered to set her alarm and woke up in time to get ready, making it into the cruiser five minutes before her father, who seemed more than a little surprised that she made it up at all.
Despite spending the entire day working the meager crowd at the Y - Keith pulling out all the stops with jokes, amateur magic tricks and free pens - the Job Fair was a bust. Between the two of them, Keith and Veronica only managed to get three people to even come near their booth and only one of those poor suckers bothered to fill out an application; the résumé he offered them handwritten on notebook paper stained with a coffee ring.
When they return home they find two plates covered in tin-foil on the counter - a note from Lianne with instructions on how to heat them in the microwave taped on top - next to a mysterious box wrapped in brown paper and adorned with a small card that simply reads, “Mr. Mars.”
Even before he slides his finger beneath the scotch-taped flap Veronica can see that her dad is bouncing on his toes, his face spread gleeful with an obnoxiously wide grin.
“You finally order that Ken Burns Baseball DVD box set?” she asks, eyeing her father skeptically.
“Nope,” Keith replies, tearing into the paper and revealing the treasure inside.
“Is that an Xbox?” Veronica asks rhetorically, a bizarre feeling of distrust coming over her.
“That’s what I’m told,” Keith mutters, quickly opening the package without looking at his daughter.
“Okay. And when exactly did you take up gaming?”
“Twenty-eight seconds ago.”
“Mm-hmm,” she murmurs, playfully crossing her arms. “Who sent it?” she asks, fairly certain she already knows the answer.
When Keith doesn’t respond, seeming too focused on removing the contents of the carton, her suspicions are confirmed and she is instantly sure of where it came from. “Logan.”
Again Keith ignores her statement and she feels her stomach do a strange flip, her brow bending into a confused and mildly-irritated wrinkle. “Dad?”
Shrugging he looks at her with an unapologetic expression. “I think it’s pretty cool, sending your old man a video… machine… thingy.”
“It’s called a gaming system, and you don’t even know how it works.”
“But the important thing is I am now able to annihilate stuff.”
“Mom will be thrilled. And did you know that Logan was going to buy you…” she trails off, leaning down to dig through what remains in the package, “…Oh, about five, maybe six-hundred dollars worth of games and machine ‘thingies’?”
“Logan had an extra one,” Keith explains, casually brushing it off, “One of several his dad got at some thing for some film of his… seems Aaron doesn’t ‘game’.”
“Hmm. And it doesn’t feel at all inappropriate to you?”
“Should it?”
“I don’t know,” she responds, feeling suddenly sheepish, “but I can imagine how you’d react if Duncan sent you a box of high end electronics.”
“Veronica…” he begins to soothe, but she isn’t listening.
“I just think it’s really interesting…” she begins, barely able to speak the words and definitely not able to look Keith in the eye, “…telling, really, that I’ve been seeing Duncan for months and he can’t catch a break, but Logan waltzes in and wins you over with video games.”.
“Logan didn’t win me over with this,” Keith explains obviously, gesturing to the gift in front of them.
“So he did. Win you over.”
Shrugging, Keith’s face softens further as he takes in a deep breath and agrees, “Yes.” Pausing a moment, Keith leans in to get Veronica’s attention before he asks, “And do you want to know why?”
“Not really,” she lies through a half-hearted pout, “but I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway.”
Which he does.
“Because he took time to get to know me, to tell me a thing or two about himself and…”
“So, what, one extended phone conversation and ‘presto’ instant admiration?” she comments indignantly, afraid to allow her father to make a rational argument. “I thought you didn’t like any guy trying to take your little girl from you.”
“I’m confused, Veronica, are you having trouble with my admiration for Logan, or yours?” Keith asks his tone one of concern, something which - oddly - irritates her more than if he’d just snapped the words at her.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she bites, the sound of her voice high and foreign to her, as though she’s responding to an entirely different discussion. The guilt shoots through her and she tries frantically to think of some way to turn this around or make sense of everything, but her head just spins as she blurts, “I suppose you’d prefer that I dump Duncan and start dating Logan? I mean, since you’re suddenly BFFs and all.”
“I never said I don’t like Duncan.”
“You never said you did.”
Sighing, he presses his eyes shut briefly before insisting, “Honey, all I’m trying to do here is support you,” his voice back to its usual compassionate tone.
“Then why does it feel like something else?” she gulps, sensing herself slowly shifting from anxious to calm, but still not wanting to give in to what’s becoming more and more obvious with each passing second.
“Maybe because you’re projecting, making this about everything it’s not,” he suggests, sliding over to stand next to her and wrap his arm around her shoulder.
The revelation is too spot-on for her to ignore but she won’t allow herself to admit her father is right, at least not yet, so she continues to look away, saying nothing.
“I’m surprised, Veronica, I didn’t think I’d have to defend myself for liking Logan” Keith says, squeezing her playfully.
Rolling her eyes she gives it a last ditch effort. “After five minutes of chit chat?”
“Five minutes, five hours, you’d be amazed what you can learn if you know how to ask.” He pauses seemingly for her benefit - to allow her to take in his tone - his face colored with fatherly understanding. “And I learned a lot.”
Properly embarrassed by her own strange bitterness, she looks down before responding, her voice barely cracking above a whisper. “Like what?”
“Like the most important thing…” Keith replies, curling her into a gentle hug and pressing a kiss to her hair, “how genuinely he cares about you.”
“He told you that?” she chokes out, a tingling sensation seeping into her chest as she leans back to look up at Keith.
“More or less,” he admits, giving her a tender smile and a quick squeeze before letting her go.
Shuddering out a nervous chuckle, covering her eyes with her hand, Veronica groans, “Wow, I don’t know where all that came from.”
“I think I do.”
Nodding at his suggestion, Veronica runs her hands through her hair as she blows out another deep breath. “I’m sorry, Dad,” she apologizes; irritated with herself on many levels but mostly because of how she treated her father. “I didn’t mean to get so upset.”
“Hmm. Happens to the best of us,” Keith assures.
“I just wonder sometimes… what I’m doing, what’s going to happen next.”
“That I can’t help you with, sweetheart,” Keith offers, taking her hand and holding it between both of his, “Just do what makes you happy.”
She nods again, giving Keith an appreciative smile.
“So,” he announces abruptly, clapping his hands and rubbing them together excitedly, “how about taking your old Dad on?” he says, offering her a controller.
“Sorry, got plans. You’re going to have to annihilate all on your own.”
“What? You’re not going to stay, take it for a trial run?”
“Slumber party,” she offers with a shrug as she pecks his cheek and heads for her room, “Pizza, gossip and tears. Can’t wait!”
“Fine,” he harrumphs, “Go do girl stuff. Me? I’ll be here, testing out…” he reaches for one of the game cases, “Oo, Halo. I’ve actually heard of this one.”
“Yeah, twelve hours ago,” she comments sarcastically, turning around to look at him, “but Logan did say it’s the best.”
“Maybe I’ll call him, see if he wants to play,” he teases her with a wink, “since we are BFFs and all.”
***
After spending over an hour selecting just what to wear, and what to pack - fretting about her choices the entire drive over - Veronica arrives at Angie’s door to a chorus of squeals and giggles, greeted by each and every girl in attendance before the entire group herds her upstairs to Angie’s ‘room’; a very large, very pink space delicately decorated and neatly arranged.
For the moment at least, it is just Veronica surrounded by Angie’s closest followers and no one whom she would consider herself the least bit chummy, so she feels out of place - hyper-aware of every move - and too wrapped up in thinking about what to say to actually say anything at all. She’s simply watching them all as they chat and advise and primp when, suddenly, Angie is at her side, gently cupping her elbow and leading her away.
“Come with me,” she whispers, easily slipping Veronica past the oblivious girls down a short hall to a set of French doors which she opens to reveal yet another enormous area that is, apparently, her actual bedroom.
“My oasis,” Angie announces gesturing dramatically to the immaculate room, less frilly than what Veronica now deduces was the parlor - or possibly her closet - and much more modern. The furnishings look like something out of Architectural Digest but with a feminine touch and Veronica deduces, from Angie’s proclamation, that she had a lot more to do with the decorating of this space, than the other.
A spicy, vanilla aroma fills the air as Veronica steps inside, accompanied by the sounds of a brook or waterfall emanating from somewhere she can’t quite pinpoint. There are lit candles on every surface and several large pieces of art - paintings and sketches that appear to be authentic and pricey - lining the walls.
“There are only a few of us staying in here,” Angie offers, with a perky, conspiratory giggle, “so feel free to spread your things out. Once you’re settled come down to the kitchen, the caterers just finished setting up.”
Before Veronica can say anything Angie pivots on her toes and bounces out, giving a friendly wave before shutting the door quietly behind her.
Just minutes after choosing an empty corner - away from all the other sleeping bags - and beginning to unpack her things, Veronica is startled to hear the door click open and see Meg come bounding in, her face lighting up as she exhales a relieved breath. “Thank God you’re here!”
“Right back ‘atcha,” Veronica chuckles.
“May I?” Meg asks, suggesting the place next to Veronica.
“Yeah. Of course,” Veronica insists, “So you’re part of the elite force then?”
“Oh, you mean Angie’s ‘Inner Sanctum’?” she affirms with a theatrical sigh.
Veronica nods.
“Yeah. I stopped being impressed when I realized it meant I was trapped in here all night with Angie, who doesn’t stop talking until she’s so tired she can no longer form words,” Meg giggles, reaching into her bag to pull out her iPod, “It’s why I always bring this.”
“Well tonight, you have me,” Veronica offers, smiling.
“Even better,” Meg says, returning her smile before shoving the iPod back into her bag. “How did Angie manage to talk you in to coming anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did she promise you one of the custom-order purses from her mother’s boutique?” Meg asks, her eyes crinkled in thought, “Oh, wait, I bet it was a trip to Melrose!”
Surprised at the idea that someone would have to be bribed to spend the evening eating catered food, getting their nails done and generally just being a girl - even if it involves hanging out with a bunch of Barbies - Veronica can’t think of how to answer, other than truthfully. “She invited me,” she confesses with a shrug, still confused.
It takes Meg a second to realize that Veronica isn’t kidding. “Oh. I’m sorry,” she says, her face awash in a strange expression, “It’s just that…” Meg pauses, considering what to say or maybe how to say it, “…I guess I figured you didn’t like these things.”
“Why?”
“Because you never come to them.”
“So, these get-togethers, they uh, happen a lot?”
“A couple of times a month at least. Of course, they’re not all this elaborate,” Meg offers, rolling her eyes at Angie’s extravagance. “We each take turns hosting… except me. My parents are, um, stringent to say the least.”
There’s a swirl of nausea sloshing in her stomach all of a sudden as Veronica starts calculating how many months there are in a year and multiplying that by how many years she’s known all these girls, and she can feel her mouth drying up and her face starting to fill with color, which Meg must notice because she unexpectedly squeezes Veronicas hand and assures, “You know you’re on the list, right?”
“Hmm?” Veronica mumbles, trying to focus.
“Every time there’s a sleepover, get-together, whatever, you’re right at the top,” Meg says, matter of fact, “You and Lilly are like the guests to have at anything.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. I probably shouldn’t tell you but…” Meg stops, looking around - as though there might actually be someone besides them in the cavernous and obviously empty room - finally whispering, “Angie was so nervous, she called me after she ran into you at the mall and said she practically died when you didn’t say ‘no’ to her invitation.”
“She seemed pretty confident to me,” Veronica chokes, still adjusting and trying to steady her breathing.
“It’s all a show,” Meg assures, “trust me.”
An uncomfortable expression briefly crosses Meg’s face as she appears to be figuring something out, maybe dissecting a problem. When she finally meets Veronica’s eyes again, there’s an awkwardness in her voice as she continues, “So why tonight?”
“I’m sorry?”
“What made you decide to show this time?” Meg clarifies, still looking a tiny bit sheepish.
Stunned at having to explain, Veronica stammers, “Uh, I just…well, I thought it would be a fun thing to do. Different from the norm, you know?”
“Oh.”
“Why?”
“Well…” Meg trails off, eyes darting around the room as she seems to consider how to broach whatever subject she’s considering, “… it’s just that… I’ve been the one to deliver your invitation three times… I always slip it in your locker or drop it by your house,” she stops, looking like she isn’t sure if she should continue, “…and every time I do you, well… you show. You and Lilly.”
“Okay…and when someone else delivers the invitation?” Veronica asks, hesitant, still attempting to understand where this is going.
“Madison typically volunteers to deliver the invitations,” Meg replies, a certain suggestion in the way she inflects her words.
“Huh,” Veronica sighs, not entirely shocked that Madison would go out of her way to make sure Veronica feels left out, but hurt by it none the less.
“I just figured that when Madison delivered the invite you immediately dropped it in the trash,” Meg offers, possibly in response to the sinking look on Veronica’s face.
“And Lilly?”
“I actually witnessed her handing one back to Madison once.”
When Veronica doesn’t comment, Meg reaches out, gently squeezing her shoulder. “Until tonight, I think we all just figured you stayed home because Lilly did.”
Trying to gather up some control, Veronica inhales deeply and ignores the nagging thought that she remembers being invited to exactly three of these girl nights before - despite ”being on the list” - and the fact that on the rare occasion Madison actually speaks to Veronica it seems like she either has an ulterior motive or is just blatantly being a bitch.
But instead of trying to digest all of this new information, Veronica shakes the thoughts loose and - comforted by her best friend’s solidarity - focuses on the fact that she’s here and Meg is really nice and that she, Veronica Mars, is one of “the guests to have at anything,” with or - apparently - without Lilly.
Appearing to understand the inner-dialogue that just transpired Meg asks, perky and supportive as ever, “You good?”
Nodding again, Veronica can feel her cheeks relax into a satisfied grin, which Meg mirrors. “Yeah,” she admits with a breathy chuckle, “I’m great.”
***
After eating themselves to near bursting, Meg and Veronica are paired off from the rest of the group, sharing a bench - and a pilfered bottle of champagne - on Angie’s balcony, which overlooks the pool where all the 09er parents, dressed to the nines, are chattering and drinking as they float between groups and conversations, none of them appearing genuinely interested in anyone but themselves.
Staring down at the party below, Veronica taps her foot to music from a band playing on the other end the patio, the melody seeming to hover just beneath the trees - which are glowing with little white lights intertwined in their branches - setting a mood that compliments the delicate sparkle from the hundreds of candles floating on the top of the water, all the light flickering up and casting spotty shadows on Meg’s cheeks as she points out who’s who, making sure to include a fact or two about everyone that Veronica would otherwise not have known.
All the women look alike to Veronica - even those with whom she’s familiar - each one beautiful, elegant and well-toned - a lot of free time spent at Pilates and with their trainers Veronica imagines - just the shade of blonde in their hair and the color of their dresses allowing her to tell them apart.
The men are varying degrees of attractive, but they are all well-dressed and have a certain manner about them, like even if you saw them on the street in casual clothes you would know they are powerful and wealthy, just by the way the carry themselves. But they all share the same look of mild-boredom, perking up only when they’re forced by their wives to involve themselves in a conversation or when one of the pert little waitresses comes by, giving them a chance to flirt while they freshen up their cocktail.
“Do you suppose that will be us someday?” Meg asks dreamily, passing the bottle to Veronica before crossing her arms along the railing for a place to rest her chin.
“I-I hadn’t thought about it.”
Flashing a skeptical grin Meg states the obvious, “You’re dating Duncan Kane.”
“Okay, I’ve thought about it…” Veronica confesses, smiling back, “Just not the part where I drag him to a dull-but-excessive party so I can spend the evening calculating the calories in a canapé, while he plays grab-ass with some server-slash-actress behind the pool house.”
“Mmm,” Meg mutters wondering, “more the part where he worships the ground you walk on and buys you diamonds and Birkin bags?”
Giggling, Veronica nods excitedly, “And a pony.”
“Oh yes, every girl needs a pony,” Meg agrees with laugh.
Suddenly, a loud scraping from outside the window on the opposite wall interrupts their shared merriment and sends a unison scream through the rest of the group. Several of the girls huddle together - proving all the horror films Veronica’s ever watched correct - seeming to wait for something to happen. Then everyone notices the foliage of the tree outside begin to shake, there’s another round of squeals and “oh my gods” before a hand reaches up and knocks on the window, making the girls jump up and scurry to the farthest corner of the room.
After some more eerie clatter and rustling, there’s the faint sound of someone swearing and then Dick’s face abruptly pops up into view as he seems to lose his balance and fall towards them, his cheek now pressed against the glass. “Can someone help me?” he whimpers.
No one moves except Madison - the one person Veronica has spent the evening avoiding - who giggles with delight as she flits over to open the sash.
"Dick!" she coos loudly as she throws her arms around him, squashing her lips to his cheek in a loud smooch and Veronica’s face is instantly crinkled in a mix of confusion and disgust, still unsure how that particular coupling happened, and which of them got the shorter end of that deal.
“Hey, Sugar-lumps,” he groans as he finds his footing, on what Veronica can only surmise is a ladder. “You and the ladies should meet us in the rec room," Dick suggests, clinging to the frame with one arm and presenting his damsel a large bottle of what appears to be vodka - stolen from his father’s ample liquor cabinet no doubt - with the other.
"Okay,” she titters, “just give us a few minutes to make ourselves presentable."
"All right, but don't make me wait too long, Little Dickie needs some company."
A girly, flirty laugh escapes her as Madison curls her arms around him again, planting a sloppy kiss directly on his lips, there may be tongue but Veronica turns away too fast to be sure, cringing at the thought of the two of them humping away in the electrical closet.
“Okay girls," Angie announces, "the party is moving downstairs.”
***
Once Dick climbs down from the window, the girls reapply their make-up - in a cloud of hairspray and perfume - before heading downstairs, while Meg and Veronica continue to loiter in Angie’s room, still assessing the adult soiree and sipping what’s left of their expensive bubbly.
“We could go,” Meg suggests through a hint of a slur, lifting the dark green bottle to the light to check its contents.
“I suppose, but who’s going to drive?” Veronica asks, “Because I think I might be what some people would call ‘tipsy’.”
“Is that what they call it?”
Smirking, Veronica downs the champagne that’s left in the glass she found in Angie’s ridiculously large bathroom, and places it on the table next to her. “I say we make an appearance downstairs and then slip out to the pool and snatch something from that dessert table.”
Eyes instantly alight, Meg stops drinking and sets the almost-empty bottle loudly on the marble floor, “That is an excellent idea,” she agrees, hefting herself up from the club chair she’s been lounging in and offering Veronica her arm.
***
As Veronica and Meg walk past Angie's oblivious parents - who are standing in the kitchen, whisper-yelling at each other over a platter of pâté, in between screeching directions at the wait staff - on their way to the rec room, they can hear the boisterous chatter drifting up the stairs and start to worry that Dick brought half their male classmates with him, a fear which is confirmed when they get to the bottom of the steps and see the quantity of people filling the room.
“Are you sure you don’t want to leave?” Meg huffs, with playful disappointment.
“Five minutes. Then it’s you, me and baklava,” Veronica says with a wink.
Nodding, Meg lets go of Veronica’s arm and heads into the fray, while Veronica scans the room hopeful but not expecting to see Logan. A moment later Dick scampers up and greets Veronica with a “What brings you here, pretty lady?”
“Slumber party, Dick” she replies, her expression and tone both tinged with mild exasperation. “How about you?” she asks, mostly to be polite but also to mock him a little. “Just couldn’t stand to be away from Madison for the whole evening?”
“What?” he wonders, brow momentarily bent in confusion until he seems to understand what and who she’s talking about, “Naw, ten minutes is plenty. This was Logan's idea....”
“Logan’s here?” she interrupts, immediately scolding herself for not hiding her excitement better.
But Dick is oblivious, “Yeah. I think he’s in the can.”
“Oh,” she comments, more calmly this time but her heart is stilling beating a mile a minute.
Then Dick puffs out a sigh and whines, “First night he hasn’t been A-O-L.”
“Did you mean A-W-O-L? AWOL?”
“Yeah. Been too busy for me,” he mopes, breathing out a resigned sigh and explaining, “but he made his booty call around 8, like I had nothing better to do than participate in a panty raid on some lame PG-13 slumber party.”
Veronica can only look at him.
“I mean come on, what’s with the cotton? Where are the peek-a-boo nighties and girl kisses?” he asks, seeming truly irritated. “He missed Enbom’s Evening of Depravity for a book club or something and now he wants to skip a trip to TJ for this?” Dick waves his arms around suggesting the party, as though it might as well be an insurance seminar. “Having his Bit…,” he cuts himself short, glancing at Veronica to gauge her reaction before continuing, “…I mean his Lady, out of town has done something to his priorities.”
“Mm-hmm,” Veronica groans, taking in a breath, “and you’ve been back from Hawaii for what?”
“Day and a half. But a lot of damage can be done in that time,” he defends. “And hey, look at you, your boyfriend isn’t around and you manage to hang with your pals, right?” he asks, not seeming to care if he gets an answer, then muttering, “I don’t know what his deal is.”
“How was John’s, by the way?” Veronica asks, happy to change the subject.
“Naked and bouncy…‘til it got busted,” he complains, “Early too, like nine or ten. Heard the sirens and we all scattered. Well, most of us anyway,” he turns his attention back to the party - nodding seductively across the room at Angie who rolls her eyes and turns away - still grumbling, “I told Enbom not to invite the deputies.”
This shocking information hits Veronica like a ton of bricks and she immediately perks up, her stomach suddenly churning with a strange anxiety, “What?”
“Yeah, jackass thought he’d be free and clear if he had half the county payroll nose deep in silicone.” Dick looks down at Veronica then and gripes, “But some douche called in an ‘anonymous tip’ and the plebes came bustin’ in the door like it was the Wild West or something.”
“You stick around?”
“I was high.”
Veronica nods, “And?”
“I hid in the wine cellar,” he admits with an unapologetic shrug.
“They arrest anyone?”
“We’re all here,” he explains with a lilt that suggests the obvious as he gestures to the males in the room. “They just grabbed the other uniforms. Which was awesome,” he chuckles and slaps Veronica on the back. “I don’t know who was more nervous: the ones who got caught or the ones doing the catching. Well, ‘cept the total a-hole leading the charge.”
“Lamb?” Veronica asks, already knowing the answer.
“I guess.”
An enormous imaginary light bulb goes off above Veronica’s head as she realizes why her father was more than happy to accept Logan - and his gift - and why she spent the morning at a job fair frantically trying to hire deputies. It’s then that she sees Logan slide through the crowd, eyes searching, and every inch of her relaxes.
“See ya, Dick,” she says abruptly, absently patting his arm and ignoring his protests before walking over to talk to Logan, who slyly slips over to an unoccupied area.
“Hi,” he whispers as she walks up to meet him.
“Hi.”
“Surprised to see me?”
“A little,” she chokes, biting at her lip, “Wanna get out of here?”
“Probably not a good idea,” he admits through a disheartened sigh.
“Why?” she asks, thinking of several reasons of her own, and dismissing all of them.
“Mm, ‘cause I’ve had a couple of cocktails and…” he looks around briefly before stepping into her to gently grab the hem of her shirt and using it to spin her down a neighboring hallway, “…no telling what I might do,” he says as he corrals her closer to him.
Swallowing hard, Veronica can feel the heat coming from the closeness between them, causing her skin to erupt into millions of tiny goose bumps.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he confesses, his voice shaky.
“Yeah?” she replies, voice shaking as she leans back against the wall.
Still holding tight to her shirt, Logan follows until he’s nearly on top of her and leans his head against hers, nodding “Mm-hmm,” he shudders out his answer, “non-stop.”
Desperate to control her breathing which is too loud and coming in fits - like her heartbeat - she tries to concentrate, to get her mind off of Logan and his closeness - and the fact that they’re essentially alone - to try and think of something to say or do. But before she can, he leans in, his cheek brushing hers as he breathes out against her skin, the scent of something fruity and alcoholic fills the surrounding air leaving her momentarily incoherent.
“God, I missed you,” he murmurs next to her ear, eliciting a noise, a moan of some sort, from deep in her throat and she wonders how she’s even got the strength to stand right now, much less the will not to press her lips to his.
It takes a moment before she feels herself finally having some control, some semblance of cognitive thought, and she takes a deep breath, blowing out all the pressure in her chest before admitting, “I missed you, too…”
The words are cathartic - a weight off her chest - so she goes with the feeling, pressing her eyes shut for just a second before continuing, “... I tried not to, told myself I shouldn’t, but the job fair was awful… I wanted to call you so many times and there’s not enough champagne in the world to take my mind off…”
“Don’t,” he slurs, as his hand moves up to her waist, the warmth from it seeping through her shirt to the skin beneath.
“Don’t what?” she asks through a jolt of anxiety, her heart racing so fast she thinks it might have stopped all-together.
Shaking his head and suddenly pulling away, Logan toddles backwards, landing awkwardly against the opposite wall, he looks at her through bleary eyes. “I should go.”
“What? Why?”
“Because…,” he begins, standing up again and walking straight up to her, his mouth instantly just a breaths length from hers as he slips his hands up to cup her face, keeping an inch of distance as he hovers his lips near hers, slowly circling, seeming to be looking for a place to land.
And she can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t even blink as she watches his eyes fluttering shut. All she can hear is the faintest, distant hum of the party and her own pounding heart. She swallows, gritting her teeth, bracing herself for what seems inevitable but then, just as quickly as the moment appeared, it’s gone. Logan seems to shake from his reverie, sucking in a loud breath and abruptly pulling back to stare at her, his eyes heavy, his mouth slightly open like he’s about to say something.
But he presses his lips closed instead and, with a slight nod in her direction, turns on his heel and heads for the door, wordlessly yanking Casey by the shirt to follow him.
“Dick! Dude! We’re leaving,” Casey shouts across the room, thumbing towards the door and tapping at his watch. “Thirty seconds!”
Staggered and still waiting for her lungs to take in a breath, Veronica can only stand there, watching through the large open doorway that faces the gardens, Logan’s retreating frame getting smaller and smaller as he crosses gracelessly through the maze of flowers and shrubs to the back gate, struggling with the latch before swinging it open and heaving himself out of the yard and out of sight.