(no subject)
Title: Sometimes It Feels the Same
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Rating: R
Spoilers: Through 1-18; pretty much guaranteed to be non-canon by 1-19 so read it quick.
Thanks: Trixie "The calculator is your friend" Firecracker (Trixalicious)
Summary: In which the author attempts to write Logan/Veronica
Why: Made a bet with myself and lost.
***
Ten days, and not a word.
Nothing from her, and Logan sure as hell doesn't bring it up.
It's just that she looks his way more often, and she laughs at his smartassed comments instead of glaring at him. But that's all.
True, there's this growing sense of free-floating unease lately, everyone can feel it, air's practically crackling with it. Bad moon rising, trouble on the way.
Same exact feeling as the week Lilly was murdered.
Veronica and her files.
But still. Ten goddamn days. Someone should have brought it up, and maybe it should have been him. But it's complicated.
Logan used to hate Veronica with an intensity that was clean and pure and focused, like a laser cannon in one of his father's b-grade scifi-action flicks. It was easy to take it all out on her, everything that had happened. It was fun. He'd raised lashing out to high art and Veronica was his canvas. She took his shit and just looked at him with that infuriating mixture of pity and impatience.
But none of that was complicated. No, things didn't get complicated till he realized he wanted her.
She'd changed, Veronica had; something had broken inside her, or maybe something had been rebuilt: Logan's not sure what, or exactly when it happened. Maybe it was around the time she stopped avoiding everyone's eyes and started walking with a swagger. Sweet, demure little Veronica had turned scrappy, and if there was one thing Logan couldn't resist it was a chick who didn't back down. And she'd started pushing back. Just stopped taking it one day and started handing it out instead.
She'd planted that bong in his locker. Logan remembers it all with annoying clarity. That scene on the beach--the tire iron, the traded insults, and the way Veronica suddenly had a posse. And Veronica's faint smile, cold and remote. Untouchable. That smile made him angrier than all the rest of it put together.
And late the same night, he'd masturbated, still angry, thinking of her. Ignoring the welts on his back and his sore jaw; just picturing Veronica and her cold, cold smile and all the ways he'd like to make it disappear.
"This is it," he'd said aloud, after he came. "I am officially in Hell."
And after he'd woken up two nights in a row the week after the bong incident, sweating and still half-mesmerized from dreams of her, things got worse between them. He made them worse. He didn't want to want her; he didn't want her to have that kind of power over him. Not now. And he toyed with the idea of leading her on, spending the time it would take to earn her trust and sweet-talk his way into those tight little jeans. Have himself a nice grudge fuck. Hit it and quit it.
But it turned out he did have a personal line he wasn't able to cross, and he'd just found it. Pain in the ass that was. So he fucked with her in other ways. Pushing, always pushing. Amazing what words could do. And she kept pushing back. He lived for her reactions. He wanted her, sure, but he still hated her. And sometimes it felt like the same thing.
And then...somewhere along the line, it just got old. His repertoire of verbal abuse was played out, and her comebacks were all pro forma. Like it was barely worth the effort any more. For either of them.
He still thought of Veronica, mostly Veronica, when he jerked off. But it was always in a vague, wistful way. Had to think of someone, right? And no one's ever as interesting as the girl you can't have.
Then things got bad with his parents, really bad. His mother--
All that, yeah. And somehow Veronica turned out to be the only one who was really there for him--during the worst couple of weeks of his entire life. That kind of thing tended to violently change your outlook on a person.
So did realizing, at seventeen, that everyone you'd ever really loved was dead.
And so did finding out that Veronica was still stuck on what had happened to Lilly. And Logan had gotten just enough of a look at her files to realize that she might actually be onto something. And all at once--he was scared for her. Worried about what she was getting herself into. And having these unfamiliar protective instincts for someone--it was strange and unexpected. But, hell, he just went with it. It was something solid to focus on, something to grab hold of--and he was still feeling, most days, like he might just float away into the void.
But--
"But why'd she kiss me?" Logan asks the walls of his empty room. That's the real mystery, the only mystery.
He already knows why he kissed her.
***
Day eleven. Logan sits alone at lunch. He spends a lot more time alone lately; it's easier than having to see the expression on people's faces when they look at him.
He glances over across the way and sees Veronica, sitting at a distant table. Also alone. She sees him looking and half-smiles at him.
Logan doesn't smile back. Day eleven, and now he's feeling a little pissy about the whole thing.
Maybe he shouldn't feel that way; maybe he should just go over there and talk to her. Maybe she's waiting for him to pursue it. But something about that doesn't feel right; and it's not the kind of vibe she's been giving him. Back off, is what her eyes seem to be saying. Don't make one stupid kiss into a big thing.
He's about to say hell with it and go talk to her anyway, but there's a minor commotion down near one of the main entrances, and Logan turns to look. But it's just an officer from the sheriff's office and a drug dog, getting ready to do the usual locker sweep.
Sheriff's office...
Logan laughs. All of a sudden, he knows exactly why it doesn't feel right. There was that cop with Veronica at that stupid dance, the cop who had an amiable grin permanently affixed to his stupid face. Logan knew--he has to admit now, he sort of knew--that something was up with Veronica and the cop, and maybe Duncan or Meg had mentioned Veronica and "Leo" a few weeks ago.
But a few weeks ago, Logan didn't care as much. A few weeks ago, Veronica hadn't kissed him.
Hadn't let him kiss her. Hadn't imprinted him with her girly, flowery smell and the feel of her arms and the way she tasted.
And after that, well, he'd either forgotten entirely about the cop or he'd just chosen not to remember. Till now. Day eleven.
He shakes his head and gets up. He doesn't look Veronica's way again.
Time to skip the rest of his classes and head to the parking lot; time to go home and break something.
***
Fuck combo moves; the trick to winning Tekken 5 is to hit the buttons randomly, fast as possible. The computer doesn't know how to deal with that; computer doesn't know what to do with insanity. Logan wins his eighth round in a row and laughs. "Once more unto the breach, motherfuckers!"
Security's a lot tighter at the Echolls compound since--everything. So it's the housekeeper who comes in and asks Logan if he wants to see Miss Mars.
He laughs again. "Oh, sure, please do show her right in."
He keeps playing. Bam, kick, pow.
A few minutes and he hears Veronica walk in. Lying on his back, Logan doesn't look up from the floor; he just keeps on mashing those buttons.
Veronica sits on the edge of the bed behind him. "Hello, Logan," she says, all calm and rational.
"You," he says, relishing his own careful enunciation, "have a boyfriend."
She ignores that, just says, "I really think we should talk."
"Day eleven," he says.
"Excuse me?"
So she hasn't been counting.
Logan goes on: "Eleven days. Everyone knows that if you don't acknowledge the illicit kiss within twenty-four hours, it didn't happen. But thanks for dropping by. You mind asking Carlita to make me a sandwich on your way out?"
Bam. Kick. Pow.
Veronica sighs. "I should have known you were going to be completely unreasonable about this."
Logan throws down the controller and climbs to his feet; turns to face her. And there she is: Veronica Mars, one-time bane of his existence. And someone he'd lately begun to think of as his own personal savior, for reasons that now elude him. She's wearing jeans and sneakers and a t-shirt, little hoodie; she's so small that sometimes you want to pick her up and walk away with her. Deceptively cute, just like always.
But the look on her face is cold and remote. Untouchable.
Logan cocks his head to one side and smiles at her. "Guy's gotta be what, three years older than you? I mean--what if things get a little too steamy one night in the back seat of his cruiser--and you all underage?" He clicks his tongue. "Next thing you know, he's gonna have to arrest himself."
Oh yeah--there it is, there's the good stuff: Veronica's furious now, he can see it in her narrowed eyes and the hard line of her jaw. She stands up and opens her mouth to retort. But she just rolls her eyes, wearily, and turns to leave.
Like it's not even worth it. Like he's not even worth it.
Logan watches her walk to the bedroom door. He's not going to say anything.
Not a word.
But--fuck. "So why did you kiss me, Veronica?"
She stops. Faces him, and now there's a hint of rare vulnerability in her eyes. "I don't know," she says.
Logan nods bitterly. "Well, that's just great."
"Logan..."
Veronica stares at him, looking confused and desperate and like she'd rather be anywhere else right now. Logan hasn't seen that look on anyone's face since his seventh-grade girlfriend dumped him--and then didn't understand why he had a problem with it.
Even back then, no one could ever seem to believe he actually cared about anything.
So Logan waves her off. "Okay, okay, I get it. Plea of temporary insanity entered into record. Good talk. Glad we had it." She's still staring at him with that same look, and he doesn't want to see it any more. "Shouldn't you be scurrying off now? I mean, you wouldn't want Crockett to notice you were gone and fire up the Amber Alert system."
Then he turns his back on her and walks over to the pick up the X-Box controller from the carpet.
Behind him, Veronica says, "Twelve days."
Logan glances up at the ceiling and sighs. He turns to her. "What?"
"It's been twelve days and two hours--jackass."
With a last hateful look his way, she leaves.
Logan stands there, heart pounding away in his chest. Angry. And otherwise. His pride doesn't want to let him go after her. He's right, that's all, that's why she's so pissed off. And besides--
But he has a thought; and maybe it's not so much a thought as it is a split-second epiphany, like ball lightning in his head. A very basic realization that things don't have to be the way they are. Maybe it's an obvious thing, maybe he should have seen it all along. Maybe he should have tried harder, in the past, to change things like this. Maybe he could have--
No, probably not. But he heads for the door anyway. If he's fast, he can still catch her.
***
Down the long driveway, into the dusk of early evening; he comes up behind her, ten yards short of the huge gate. "Veronica--" he says. "Hey. Hold on."
When she turns, she still looks pissed, jaw set hard and eyes full of distrust. Royally pissed.
But that's okay.
And when he takes hold of her and kisses her, she tenses for barely a second and then she softens against him. She smells girly and flowery, and she slides her deceptively cute little arms up around his neck, and opens her lips to his. And there it is, like last time, this thing between them that totally shouldn't be there and absolutely is; the familiar and the unfamiliar all at once, the magnetic draw that only kicks in when they get this close to each other.
Afterwards, this time, she doesn't run away. She looks at him. The anger is gone from her face. "Logan--" she says. "We really need to--"
"Hey," he interrupts. "You ever notice how we get along much better if we both just shut the hell up?"
Veronica looks puzzled, but then she smiles. She's a smart girl.
Things are fucked up, no denying it. Things in Neptune are always fucked up. There's Lilly murder and Duncan's craziness and Leo's mere existence.
But most of all there's Veronica and Logan, each with their own personal brand of attitude problem; enough attitude between the two of them to fuck up the citywide karma of a dozen Neptunes.
But there's also this moment, and sometimes that's all you've got. Sometimes it's all about playing the hand you're holding right now and blowing off everything else. Bet the whole fucking wad.
Lilly taught him that.
Here and now, Veronica's still smiling up at him.
So Logan lets himself smile back, and he kisses her again. "Come on," he says; and then he puts his arm around her shoulders as they walk back up to the house. Back to his room.
He doesn't know how long she'll stay, and he doesn't know where this is going. He's got a vague idea how bad it could get, but that doesn't seem important right now.
Because there's one thing he does know for sure:
Right now, for the two of them, this is still better than anything else.
***
END
a/n:Title and paraphrased lyrics stolen from Therapy? 'Zipless'
because several people have asked: my other VM fanfic can be found here.
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Rating: R
Spoilers: Through 1-18; pretty much guaranteed to be non-canon by 1-19 so read it quick.
Thanks: Trixie "The calculator is your friend" Firecracker (Trixalicious)
Summary: In which the author attempts to write Logan/Veronica
Why: Made a bet with myself and lost.
***
Ten days, and not a word.
Nothing from her, and Logan sure as hell doesn't bring it up.
It's just that she looks his way more often, and she laughs at his smartassed comments instead of glaring at him. But that's all.
True, there's this growing sense of free-floating unease lately, everyone can feel it, air's practically crackling with it. Bad moon rising, trouble on the way.
Same exact feeling as the week Lilly was murdered.
Veronica and her files.
But still. Ten goddamn days. Someone should have brought it up, and maybe it should have been him. But it's complicated.
Logan used to hate Veronica with an intensity that was clean and pure and focused, like a laser cannon in one of his father's b-grade scifi-action flicks. It was easy to take it all out on her, everything that had happened. It was fun. He'd raised lashing out to high art and Veronica was his canvas. She took his shit and just looked at him with that infuriating mixture of pity and impatience.
But none of that was complicated. No, things didn't get complicated till he realized he wanted her.
She'd changed, Veronica had; something had broken inside her, or maybe something had been rebuilt: Logan's not sure what, or exactly when it happened. Maybe it was around the time she stopped avoiding everyone's eyes and started walking with a swagger. Sweet, demure little Veronica had turned scrappy, and if there was one thing Logan couldn't resist it was a chick who didn't back down. And she'd started pushing back. Just stopped taking it one day and started handing it out instead.
She'd planted that bong in his locker. Logan remembers it all with annoying clarity. That scene on the beach--the tire iron, the traded insults, and the way Veronica suddenly had a posse. And Veronica's faint smile, cold and remote. Untouchable. That smile made him angrier than all the rest of it put together.
And late the same night, he'd masturbated, still angry, thinking of her. Ignoring the welts on his back and his sore jaw; just picturing Veronica and her cold, cold smile and all the ways he'd like to make it disappear.
"This is it," he'd said aloud, after he came. "I am officially in Hell."
And after he'd woken up two nights in a row the week after the bong incident, sweating and still half-mesmerized from dreams of her, things got worse between them. He made them worse. He didn't want to want her; he didn't want her to have that kind of power over him. Not now. And he toyed with the idea of leading her on, spending the time it would take to earn her trust and sweet-talk his way into those tight little jeans. Have himself a nice grudge fuck. Hit it and quit it.
But it turned out he did have a personal line he wasn't able to cross, and he'd just found it. Pain in the ass that was. So he fucked with her in other ways. Pushing, always pushing. Amazing what words could do. And she kept pushing back. He lived for her reactions. He wanted her, sure, but he still hated her. And sometimes it felt like the same thing.
And then...somewhere along the line, it just got old. His repertoire of verbal abuse was played out, and her comebacks were all pro forma. Like it was barely worth the effort any more. For either of them.
He still thought of Veronica, mostly Veronica, when he jerked off. But it was always in a vague, wistful way. Had to think of someone, right? And no one's ever as interesting as the girl you can't have.
Then things got bad with his parents, really bad. His mother--
All that, yeah. And somehow Veronica turned out to be the only one who was really there for him--during the worst couple of weeks of his entire life. That kind of thing tended to violently change your outlook on a person.
So did realizing, at seventeen, that everyone you'd ever really loved was dead.
And so did finding out that Veronica was still stuck on what had happened to Lilly. And Logan had gotten just enough of a look at her files to realize that she might actually be onto something. And all at once--he was scared for her. Worried about what she was getting herself into. And having these unfamiliar protective instincts for someone--it was strange and unexpected. But, hell, he just went with it. It was something solid to focus on, something to grab hold of--and he was still feeling, most days, like he might just float away into the void.
But--
"But why'd she kiss me?" Logan asks the walls of his empty room. That's the real mystery, the only mystery.
He already knows why he kissed her.
***
Day eleven. Logan sits alone at lunch. He spends a lot more time alone lately; it's easier than having to see the expression on people's faces when they look at him.
He glances over across the way and sees Veronica, sitting at a distant table. Also alone. She sees him looking and half-smiles at him.
Logan doesn't smile back. Day eleven, and now he's feeling a little pissy about the whole thing.
Maybe he shouldn't feel that way; maybe he should just go over there and talk to her. Maybe she's waiting for him to pursue it. But something about that doesn't feel right; and it's not the kind of vibe she's been giving him. Back off, is what her eyes seem to be saying. Don't make one stupid kiss into a big thing.
He's about to say hell with it and go talk to her anyway, but there's a minor commotion down near one of the main entrances, and Logan turns to look. But it's just an officer from the sheriff's office and a drug dog, getting ready to do the usual locker sweep.
Sheriff's office...
Logan laughs. All of a sudden, he knows exactly why it doesn't feel right. There was that cop with Veronica at that stupid dance, the cop who had an amiable grin permanently affixed to his stupid face. Logan knew--he has to admit now, he sort of knew--that something was up with Veronica and the cop, and maybe Duncan or Meg had mentioned Veronica and "Leo" a few weeks ago.
But a few weeks ago, Logan didn't care as much. A few weeks ago, Veronica hadn't kissed him.
Hadn't let him kiss her. Hadn't imprinted him with her girly, flowery smell and the feel of her arms and the way she tasted.
And after that, well, he'd either forgotten entirely about the cop or he'd just chosen not to remember. Till now. Day eleven.
He shakes his head and gets up. He doesn't look Veronica's way again.
Time to skip the rest of his classes and head to the parking lot; time to go home and break something.
***
Fuck combo moves; the trick to winning Tekken 5 is to hit the buttons randomly, fast as possible. The computer doesn't know how to deal with that; computer doesn't know what to do with insanity. Logan wins his eighth round in a row and laughs. "Once more unto the breach, motherfuckers!"
Security's a lot tighter at the Echolls compound since--everything. So it's the housekeeper who comes in and asks Logan if he wants to see Miss Mars.
He laughs again. "Oh, sure, please do show her right in."
He keeps playing. Bam, kick, pow.
A few minutes and he hears Veronica walk in. Lying on his back, Logan doesn't look up from the floor; he just keeps on mashing those buttons.
Veronica sits on the edge of the bed behind him. "Hello, Logan," she says, all calm and rational.
"You," he says, relishing his own careful enunciation, "have a boyfriend."
She ignores that, just says, "I really think we should talk."
"Day eleven," he says.
"Excuse me?"
So she hasn't been counting.
Logan goes on: "Eleven days. Everyone knows that if you don't acknowledge the illicit kiss within twenty-four hours, it didn't happen. But thanks for dropping by. You mind asking Carlita to make me a sandwich on your way out?"
Bam. Kick. Pow.
Veronica sighs. "I should have known you were going to be completely unreasonable about this."
Logan throws down the controller and climbs to his feet; turns to face her. And there she is: Veronica Mars, one-time bane of his existence. And someone he'd lately begun to think of as his own personal savior, for reasons that now elude him. She's wearing jeans and sneakers and a t-shirt, little hoodie; she's so small that sometimes you want to pick her up and walk away with her. Deceptively cute, just like always.
But the look on her face is cold and remote. Untouchable.
Logan cocks his head to one side and smiles at her. "Guy's gotta be what, three years older than you? I mean--what if things get a little too steamy one night in the back seat of his cruiser--and you all underage?" He clicks his tongue. "Next thing you know, he's gonna have to arrest himself."
Oh yeah--there it is, there's the good stuff: Veronica's furious now, he can see it in her narrowed eyes and the hard line of her jaw. She stands up and opens her mouth to retort. But she just rolls her eyes, wearily, and turns to leave.
Like it's not even worth it. Like he's not even worth it.
Logan watches her walk to the bedroom door. He's not going to say anything.
Not a word.
But--fuck. "So why did you kiss me, Veronica?"
She stops. Faces him, and now there's a hint of rare vulnerability in her eyes. "I don't know," she says.
Logan nods bitterly. "Well, that's just great."
"Logan..."
Veronica stares at him, looking confused and desperate and like she'd rather be anywhere else right now. Logan hasn't seen that look on anyone's face since his seventh-grade girlfriend dumped him--and then didn't understand why he had a problem with it.
Even back then, no one could ever seem to believe he actually cared about anything.
So Logan waves her off. "Okay, okay, I get it. Plea of temporary insanity entered into record. Good talk. Glad we had it." She's still staring at him with that same look, and he doesn't want to see it any more. "Shouldn't you be scurrying off now? I mean, you wouldn't want Crockett to notice you were gone and fire up the Amber Alert system."
Then he turns his back on her and walks over to the pick up the X-Box controller from the carpet.
Behind him, Veronica says, "Twelve days."
Logan glances up at the ceiling and sighs. He turns to her. "What?"
"It's been twelve days and two hours--jackass."
With a last hateful look his way, she leaves.
Logan stands there, heart pounding away in his chest. Angry. And otherwise. His pride doesn't want to let him go after her. He's right, that's all, that's why she's so pissed off. And besides--
But he has a thought; and maybe it's not so much a thought as it is a split-second epiphany, like ball lightning in his head. A very basic realization that things don't have to be the way they are. Maybe it's an obvious thing, maybe he should have seen it all along. Maybe he should have tried harder, in the past, to change things like this. Maybe he could have--
No, probably not. But he heads for the door anyway. If he's fast, he can still catch her.
***
Down the long driveway, into the dusk of early evening; he comes up behind her, ten yards short of the huge gate. "Veronica--" he says. "Hey. Hold on."
When she turns, she still looks pissed, jaw set hard and eyes full of distrust. Royally pissed.
But that's okay.
And when he takes hold of her and kisses her, she tenses for barely a second and then she softens against him. She smells girly and flowery, and she slides her deceptively cute little arms up around his neck, and opens her lips to his. And there it is, like last time, this thing between them that totally shouldn't be there and absolutely is; the familiar and the unfamiliar all at once, the magnetic draw that only kicks in when they get this close to each other.
Afterwards, this time, she doesn't run away. She looks at him. The anger is gone from her face. "Logan--" she says. "We really need to--"
"Hey," he interrupts. "You ever notice how we get along much better if we both just shut the hell up?"
Veronica looks puzzled, but then she smiles. She's a smart girl.
Things are fucked up, no denying it. Things in Neptune are always fucked up. There's Lilly murder and Duncan's craziness and Leo's mere existence.
But most of all there's Veronica and Logan, each with their own personal brand of attitude problem; enough attitude between the two of them to fuck up the citywide karma of a dozen Neptunes.
But there's also this moment, and sometimes that's all you've got. Sometimes it's all about playing the hand you're holding right now and blowing off everything else. Bet the whole fucking wad.
Lilly taught him that.
Here and now, Veronica's still smiling up at him.
So Logan lets himself smile back, and he kisses her again. "Come on," he says; and then he puts his arm around her shoulders as they walk back up to the house. Back to his room.
He doesn't know how long she'll stay, and he doesn't know where this is going. He's got a vague idea how bad it could get, but that doesn't seem important right now.
Because there's one thing he does know for sure:
Right now, for the two of them, this is still better than anything else.
***
END
a/n:Title and paraphrased lyrics stolen from Therapy? 'Zipless'
because several people have asked: my other VM fanfic can be found here.