fic: I don't sleep well alone
Title:I don't sleep well alone
Fandom: Veronica Mars (OMG I WROTE VERONICA MARS!!!)
Characters/Ship: Pre-Veronica/Logan (mentions of veronica/dunan and logan/lilly)
Word Count: 724
Summary: Sometimes she wonders how Logan talks her into these things. How easily he can convince her. (Set pre-series)
Sometimes she wonders how Logan talks her into these things. How easily he can convince her.
He spins words like Lilly, until it seems inevitable or almost like it was Veronica’s idea in the first place and he was just there cheering her on. He sounds nothing like Duncan who would never encourage this in the first place. Not without Logan and Lilly sitting on his shoulder, whispering in his ear what to do.
“A little alcohol won’t kill you.” He had said.
“You never pay any attention in health class do you?” She had asked and then she had took a swig of the bottle.
It had burned going down and she had coughed. (He hadn’t laughed, but he might as well have, with the expression on his face.)
“Only to the dirty parts,” He replied.
That was a bottle of tequila ago, when Veronica could still feel her cheeks and before she had stripped out of her pink sweater and down to her white tank top.
“Why aren’t you getting drunk with Lilly?” She asks. It had occurred to her before, but she hadn’t had enough liquid courage to actually say it.
Logan pauses, rummaging through his father’s liquor cabinet, and then turns back and smiles. “She’s going through a ‘I-hate-Logan’ phase.” He says.
“Uh-oh, someone’s in tro-u-ble.” Veronica sing songs.
Logan laughs and turns back to the alcohol. He grabs scotch this time and she knows this will not end well. She’s pretty sure she won’t make it home and she’ll end up leaving a babbling message on the machine talking about Lilly and her Logan problems and spending the night at the Kanes.
She’ll probably end up passed out on Logan’s bedroom floor instead.
“I’m always in trouble,” Logan says sitting down in front of her, “But that’s why I called you. You don’t hate anyone.”
“That’s not true.” Veronica says. It comes out very loud. She thinks she might be offended.
“Tell me one person you hate. Name one person.” He grins.
“I…”
Her mind is blank. She blames the alcohol. Stupid alcohol, she thinks, drinking some of the scotch Logan had offered her.
Logan laughs again and she wonders if she said that out loud.
“Deputy Lamb!” She says suddenly, almost falls off the guest house bed, when her arms flail as she tries to emphasize her meaning. Logan’s hands steady her and his eyes dance with amusement and something else she doesn’t know. Sadness maybe. (Deep down, Logan’s sad, she knows that.) Longing maybe, but she doesn’t know what for. Maybe lower alcohol tolerance so he could feel like her.
“Deputy Lamb,” She repeats, “He’s smug and smarmy and a total idiot. And really, a lot of other words I can’t remember right now. But none of them are good.”
“I’m sure they’re not.” Logan nods in a false solemn manner.
“See, I can hate people.” She says. She moves so she’s no longer at the foot of the bed, instead crawling up to the headboard next to him. She grabs one of the many pillows (jeez, how many pillows do rich people really need anyways?) and pulls it to her chest. “I’m not the Pope or anything.”
“You would look funny in the hat.” He says.
She had lowered herself down on the bed, curled up, and was comfortable, though she doesn’t remember doing any of that. She realizes several minutes later that Logan’s voice had come from across from her and he was lying down too.
He’s staring at the ceiling when she opens her eyes and she thought she saw something wrong with the color of his cheek when she looked too close. She almost reached out to touch it, but she stopped herself just in time.
“Why didn’t you call Duncan?” She asks quieter this time.
“I don’t know,” Logan says, “You just…seemed like a better choice.”
Veronica smiles, sinking deeper into the bed. It’s much more comfortable than Logan’s floor but her father was going to be really pissed tomorrow.
She feels Logan’s hand on her cheek, pushing back her long hair, before she drifts off to sleep.
(Her friend needed her, she’ll tell her father tomorrow. I’m sorry, but it was important, she’ll say. I’d do it again, grounding and all, she’ll tell Logan.
None of it will be a lie.)
Fandom: Veronica Mars (OMG I WROTE VERONICA MARS!!!)
Characters/Ship: Pre-Veronica/Logan (mentions of veronica/dunan and logan/lilly)
Word Count: 724
Summary: Sometimes she wonders how Logan talks her into these things. How easily he can convince her. (Set pre-series)
Sometimes she wonders how Logan talks her into these things. How easily he can convince her.
He spins words like Lilly, until it seems inevitable or almost like it was Veronica’s idea in the first place and he was just there cheering her on. He sounds nothing like Duncan who would never encourage this in the first place. Not without Logan and Lilly sitting on his shoulder, whispering in his ear what to do.
“A little alcohol won’t kill you.” He had said.
“You never pay any attention in health class do you?” She had asked and then she had took a swig of the bottle.
It had burned going down and she had coughed. (He hadn’t laughed, but he might as well have, with the expression on his face.)
“Only to the dirty parts,” He replied.
That was a bottle of tequila ago, when Veronica could still feel her cheeks and before she had stripped out of her pink sweater and down to her white tank top.
“Why aren’t you getting drunk with Lilly?” She asks. It had occurred to her before, but she hadn’t had enough liquid courage to actually say it.
Logan pauses, rummaging through his father’s liquor cabinet, and then turns back and smiles. “She’s going through a ‘I-hate-Logan’ phase.” He says.
“Uh-oh, someone’s in tro-u-ble.” Veronica sing songs.
Logan laughs and turns back to the alcohol. He grabs scotch this time and she knows this will not end well. She’s pretty sure she won’t make it home and she’ll end up leaving a babbling message on the machine talking about Lilly and her Logan problems and spending the night at the Kanes.
She’ll probably end up passed out on Logan’s bedroom floor instead.
“I’m always in trouble,” Logan says sitting down in front of her, “But that’s why I called you. You don’t hate anyone.”
“That’s not true.” Veronica says. It comes out very loud. She thinks she might be offended.
“Tell me one person you hate. Name one person.” He grins.
“I…”
Her mind is blank. She blames the alcohol. Stupid alcohol, she thinks, drinking some of the scotch Logan had offered her.
Logan laughs again and she wonders if she said that out loud.
“Deputy Lamb!” She says suddenly, almost falls off the guest house bed, when her arms flail as she tries to emphasize her meaning. Logan’s hands steady her and his eyes dance with amusement and something else she doesn’t know. Sadness maybe. (Deep down, Logan’s sad, she knows that.) Longing maybe, but she doesn’t know what for. Maybe lower alcohol tolerance so he could feel like her.
“Deputy Lamb,” She repeats, “He’s smug and smarmy and a total idiot. And really, a lot of other words I can’t remember right now. But none of them are good.”
“I’m sure they’re not.” Logan nods in a false solemn manner.
“See, I can hate people.” She says. She moves so she’s no longer at the foot of the bed, instead crawling up to the headboard next to him. She grabs one of the many pillows (jeez, how many pillows do rich people really need anyways?) and pulls it to her chest. “I’m not the Pope or anything.”
“You would look funny in the hat.” He says.
She had lowered herself down on the bed, curled up, and was comfortable, though she doesn’t remember doing any of that. She realizes several minutes later that Logan’s voice had come from across from her and he was lying down too.
He’s staring at the ceiling when she opens her eyes and she thought she saw something wrong with the color of his cheek when she looked too close. She almost reached out to touch it, but she stopped herself just in time.
“Why didn’t you call Duncan?” She asks quieter this time.
“I don’t know,” Logan says, “You just…seemed like a better choice.”
Veronica smiles, sinking deeper into the bed. It’s much more comfortable than Logan’s floor but her father was going to be really pissed tomorrow.
She feels Logan’s hand on her cheek, pushing back her long hair, before she drifts off to sleep.
(Her friend needed her, she’ll tell her father tomorrow. I’m sorry, but it was important, she’ll say. I’d do it again, grounding and all, she’ll tell Logan.
None of it will be a lie.)