Words and Actions (Veronica/Logan - R) Rindee
Title: Words and Actions
Author: Rindee
Characters/Pairing: Veronica/Logan, and Keith Mars.
Rating: Hard R
Word Count: 6624
Spoilers: AU fic set five years after the end of S2, so spoilers through the end of S2.
A/N: Begun for the vmlyricfic challenge, but I had so much fun with the story I wanted to continue it, so this will be cross-posted to the loveathons Epic challenge, because I just didn't want to stop writing. Many, many, many thanks to rowanlove, who is an amazing and enthusiastic beta. She unkinked the kinks (in the story) and reminded me Veronica = loyalty, and Logan can grow up. The prompts for the vmlyricfic challenge are at the end.
Veronica looked at her watch once more, pursing her lips and muttering to herself as she paced, high heels clicking on the pavement. She yanked her Blackberry from her sleek, black-leather Coach carryall and stared intently at it, as if willing it to ring. She tapped a red-lacquered fingernail on the screen, sighed and shoved it back in her bag. Finally sitting on a bench, she pulled out a newspaper and pretended to read. As her head inclined, a pair of strong, surprisingly graceful, masculine hands slid over her eyes.
“Been waiting long?” he chuckled in her ear.
“Logan,” she complained, pulling his hands from her eyes. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Not on a public sidewalk, Sweetheart. Maybe later,” he murmured, his lips gently bussing her cheek. “I got it,” he whispered with a quick wiggle of his eyebrows. “Buy you lunch, honey?” he inquired in a normal tone as he offered his hand. “Or maybe you’d prefer something quicker? I know a great place that’s not too far away.”
Veronica grinned, kissed him briefly, then swiped her thumb across his lip to remove the trace of scarlet she’d left behind. “Tempting offer, Mr. Echolls. You know I’m always in the mood to eat,” she tilted her head. “But I have to take a raincheck. I’ve got to see the boss man first, and I have class at 2.” She held out her hand, palm up. “I assume you’ll be discreet about your role in the acquisition, particularly if the Boss asks. You know he hates it when I use you.”
Logan placed a plump brown envelope into Veronica’s waiting hand. “My dear Miss Mars, I am at your disposal. Use me as you will. I can handle his disapproval. ”
Smiling again, Veronica stuffed the package in her carryall. “See you at 4:30, the usual place?” Logan nodded, leaning down to embrace her. His long fingers wrapped around the base of her neck as he bent her back to nibble her lips one more time.
“Can’t wait, Ronnie.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Around 5:15 p.m., Veronica swung open the french doors and stepped onto the deck. Logan was hovering over his latest pride-and-joy, a massive, stainless steel grill, poking a long fork into a thick, sizzling steak. A half-full bottle of beer rested beside him, and she could see two empties in the trash. Her bookbag clunked to the floor as she playfully kicked one of her shoes in Logan’s direction.
“You’re late,” he announced, not turning to greet her.
Veronica shed her jacket and began untucking her blouse. “I tried to call. You didn’t answer,” she replied. “I take it you started without me?” Still not looking at her, Logan raised the bottle over his head before taking a long gulp.
“Seemed like the thing to do. You obviously had more important things to do,” he grumbled petulantly.
“I was in class,” she replied, a tinge of annoyance creeping into her tone. “My team had our first trial exercise today, and I stayed after to see how we did. When we found out we kicked ass, we decided to celebrate with a cup of coffee. I didn’t think it was a big deal. I knew you weren’t starting dinner ‘til later.”
“I was here, Veronica. The phone didn’t ring. Is your cell broke again? Should I buy you a new one?”
“No, Logan. You didn’t buy the one I have now, and you didn’t buy the one before that. You don’t pay my phone bill, and, no, it’s not broken.”
“So the whole group went out for coffee? Whose idea was that? No, wait. Let me guess. It was Jason, right?
“No, actually, I think it was Shelly’s idea. You know Jason, Shelly, and Ben are in my group, so the four of us went for coffee.” Veronica glanced quizzically at Logan. “Are you mad, or is it just that time of the month? It’s not like I skipped dinner to hang out with them. Don’t tell me you’re actually mad?”
“I’m not mad, but we had plans to meet at 4:30. Excuse me for being upset that you blew me off. Sue me, if it’s a crime to want to spend time with you. Oh wait, that’s right, you can’t. You’re not a lawyer yet. I guess you’ll have to hold off on that.”
Veronica dropped into the upholstered double recliner and leaned back, her eyes closing momentarily as her fingertips massaged circles on her temples. She sighed, flexed her ankles several times and reached under her skirt to roll down one thigh-high. She glanced up as Logan made a guttural noise, then bent her right knee and began removing the other stocking.
“What are you trying to do to me?” he groused.
“Win an argument I don’t even understand?” she quipped.
“You’re not going to win that easily,” he said, shaking his head. “You know it takes more than that to shut me up.”
“That’s not what you said this morning,” she mocked, rolling her head in a circle to release her neck muscles.
“Words are only words, Veronica. You know what they say about actions and words, right?” he inquired, banging down the cover of the grill and slamming his empty beer into the waste can.
“Logan.”
“Yes, dear,” he answered sarcastically, reaching into the mini-fridge for a bottle of water. “Want one?”
“Is the steak done? Turn off the grill and join me,” she invited, patting the cushion. Logan glared at Veronica, shrugged and plopped down next to her. She arched an eyebrow and held out her hand.
“What?”
“I believe you offered me a drink? I want something stronger than water, though. Maybe if I have one, it will help your mood.”
Logan dutifully fetched a glass of wine splashed with Pellegrino. As he returned to the chaise, Veronica opened her knees and motioned for him to sit in front of her. She took a sip, set down her glass, and began to massage his shoulders, her small hands digging in with surprising strength. “Better?” she hummed into the side of his neck just before she nipped him. “Tell me what’s wrong, because I really don’t want to fight right now.”
“Your Dad called. I thought you were done with the Maccaluso case,” he mumbled, his chin falling to his chest as Veronica continued kneading. “Ow! Fuck, Ronnie, that hurt.” She relaxed her hands and began to rub circles on Logan’s back. “Mmm. Better.” She slipped her arms underneath his and tugged him backward until his head rested on her chest. Sinking back into the pillow, Veronica closed her eyes and began running her fingers through Logan’s short, sun-kissed locks. “Keith said something the other day, and, well, I don’t like you being involved in this one.”
“We talked about this, Logan. I know you and Dad want me to quit the business, but I could use the money, Dad needs the help, and -- ”
“Wait! What about my needs, Ronnie? Don’t they count?” he complained, stirring restlessly.
Veronica’s hand, twined in Logan’s hair, stopped moving as she absently considered the efficacy of yanking out a handful. “Last I checked, your needs were getting met on a regular basis. You’re not complaining about our arrangement, are you?”
Logan wriggled from her grasp, rolled over, and propped himself up on one elbow. Looming over Veronica, he waited until her eyes opened fully to meet his. “I have no concerns about our sex life, so stop trying to change the subject. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you,” he stated before carefully lowering himself on top of her, settling his hips in the vee of her legs. He stared into her brilliant azure eyes, his free hand trailing spider webs up her arm to her cheek. Slowly, Logan’s thumb traced the line of her jaw from her neck to the corner of her lip.
Veronica opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, his lips closed over hers in a slow, languid caress. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Logan. Everything is going to be fine.” she murmured softly against his lips.
Pulling away, he rested his forehead against hers. “Really? Because if I remember correctly, you’ve pretty much used up your nine lives.”
“Anyone ever tell you you look sexy when you’re worried?” she teased, nibbling his neck and sucking on his pulse point.
Logan nipped her neck in retaliation, his hands slipping under her shirt. “Comments like that are why Dick asks if you’re carrying my balls in your bag.”
Stifling a laugh, Veronica ran her hands across his back. “I’m sorry Dick is questioning your masculinity, honey. If it makes you feel better, you can tell him you get to bang a hot chick almost every night.”
A brief grin crossed Logan’s face and he wiggled his eyebrows. “Yes, thank you. I feel much better. Dick actually admired you the other day, and I had to punch him in the kidneys.” Ignoring her eye roll, he shifted, settling himself more comfortably against her as he pressed butterfly kisses below her jaw.
“Logan? Dinner, the grill?”
“Shh,” he whispered, busy with the buttons on her blouse. “It’s fine. The meat is resting.”
“Resting, huh,” she giggled into his mouth, her nimble fingers working his belt buckle. “Is it supposed to be resting?”
“Yeah. I saw it on Emeril.”
“Okaay.... Logan,” she gasped as he distractingly slid his tongue in her ear. Feeling him hard against her, she quickly popped the buttons on his fly and eased her hand inside. “I admire your cooking expertise, I do, but you really need to get a hobby.”
“I have one,” he replied, unhooking her bra and pulling it from her shoulders. “You.” Her head tumbled back and she arched against him, savoring the feel of his rough skin on hers. Soon, bathed in the rosy-peach glow of the sunset, the uncensored sounds of their lovemaking mingled with the whoosh of the ocean and the seagulls cawing overhead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Several hours later, Veronica shoved the last plate into the dishwasher and closed it. She began gathering her things as Logan, wearing board shorts, came in from taking out the garbage. “Hey, Ronnie. Want to go for a quick - wait, you’re not staying?”
Veronica grimaced guiltily and shook her head. “Backup is a reliable alarm clock. You, on the other hand, make me want to stay in bed all day. Besides, you probably wouldn’t hear a fire alarm if it was blasting in your ear. Tomorrow’s my early day. I have study group at 7:30, and I can’t miss it because we’re getting ready for the practice mid-term. Besides, I told Dad I’d be by to talk about the case.”
Logan frowned. “Speaking of the case you’re supposed to be quitting, are we still going to that fund raiser thing at the club on Thursday?”
“Yeah. Dad thinks they’re both going to be there, and he wants pictures. Is your tux pressed?”
“Should be. I dropped it off this morning; I’ll get it after class tomorrow.”
“Wednesday - Tae Kwon Do, right? How’s that going, anyway? Learn anything new?”
“Good. It’s good. I’ll be ready fight you over the last pint of Ben & Jerry’s in no time.” Logan placed his palms together and bowed before assuming a fighting stance, his right fist thrusting out, shoulder height, his left fist facing inward, inches from his chin. Chuckling, Veronica stepped beneath his outstretched arm and kissed his cheek.
“Dream on, Grasshopper,” she advised him. “I’d have you on your back less than a minute.”
Logan curled his arm around her and hugged tightly. “I’m counting on it, Sugarpuss. Drive careful. Call me when you get to Keith’s.” She nodded, leaned into his chest and sighed happily.
“See you tomorrow. I get out at 2.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She could hear Keith snoring before she unlocked the door. Stepping into the apartment, Veronica saw him, head back, mouth open, papers scattered on the coffee table, a few still clutched reflexively in his hand. Lolling at his feet, Backup raised his head and whined as she carefully shut the door and tiptoed to the sofa. Gently extracting the documents from Keith’s hand, she sat down and wedged her feet against the table. Leaning back, she began to read. Fifteen minutes later, her Blackberry began to hum with the distinctive sound of Logan’s private ring. Startled, she grabbed her bag and pulled out her phone. Answering in a muted voice, she assured Logan she’d arrived safely and was waiting for her dad to wake up. As they exchanged goodnights, Keith began to stir.
“Mmm, you’re here. Hi, Honey,” he mumbled, blinking sleepily.
“Hiya, Pops,” she greeted him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “No date tonight?”
“No, no. Alicia had a PTA thing at Darrell’s school. What time is it, anyway?”
“9:30, I think.”
“Oh, good. Good. We have time to go over the plans for the fund-raiser.”
Keith sat up and gazed at the mess in front of him. Veronica chuckled and began organizing the files. “If you’re not going to let me work at the office, Pops, you’ve really got to get some help.”
“I know, I know, but I promised Logan - ”
“You ... promised Logan?” Veronica’s voice suddenly became cold and wary. “What does Logan have to do with you not needing my help at the office?” She looked suspiciously at her father, calculating her next words.
“I worry about you. I want you to have a normal life, one where you don’t have to deal with the seedy side of town. Logan wants the same thing. Telling you I didn’t need your help anymore was my idea, but he and I had - ”
“You and he had ... dinner ... a conversation ... what?”
“Veronica.”
“What?”
“Stop. Just stop it, Honey. Logan and I aren’t engaged in some wild conspiracy here. We had a talk about the future, your future, with or without Mr. Echolls. You’ll be graduating from law school soon - ”
“I’m in my first semester, Dad.”
“Yes, but it’s going to go faster than you think, Sweetie. And then you’ll be a lawyer and you’ll, hopefully, work in a law firm where you won’t have to sit outside sleazy hotels at two-thirty in the morning, waiting for some philandering spouse or boyfriend to give up the money shot.”
Veronica huffed and sat back stiffly, regarding her father with bright, thoughtful eyes. She couldn’t decide whether to be offended and angry, or appreciate the concern of the two most important men in her life. The logical half of her brain knew Keith and Logan meant well and were only interested in her safety and well-being, but the other side, the emotional half, resented them for presuming to discuss her future without her. It made her angrier than she could express, but her purpose in spending the evening with her dad wasn’t to argue with him. She inhaled loudly, exhaled, and smiled.
“Where’s the memo.” She snapped her fingers.
“What?”
“The next time you and Logan decide to decide my future without me, I’d at least like a memo of your conversation. And interview notes. A tape recording would be good too. That way I’ll know who said what.” Poker-faced, Veronica stared at her father.
Keith Mars laughed nervously and patted her leg. “Okay, Honey. I get it. No more conversations with Logan.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t talk to Logan, Dad. I’m glad you and Logan talk, really. Especially since he and I may be together for awhile....”
“May be together - is there something I should know, Veronica? Has Logan done - ”
“No, Dad, no. Nothing like that. Logan’s fine. Surprisingly so. But you know life doesn’t always work out the way you hope or imagine. I’m only 22 and - ”
“You’d tell me if he’d done something to you, wouldn’t you, Veronica?” Keith’s voice was oddly serious and alert as he searched her face for clues to what she wasn’t saying.
“Yeah, Dad. Just forget it. It’s nothing,” Veronica paused, gathering her thoughts. It wasn’t that she and Logan had had any problems lately, in fact, it was just the opposite. Despite their most recent reconciliation, Veronica had always assumed that, no matter how tight they were, no matter how devoted Logan was - and he appeared to be completely devoted - their relationship was going to end, probably badly.
But since they’d begun living together, a year-and-a-half ago, they’d started to be truly open and honest with their feelings, each trying to trust the other to understand and not judge. Unlike high school, and the year after, when they had to cope with the emotional aftermath of Cassidy Casablancas’ and Aaron Echolls’ deaths, they’d had fewer knock-down-drag-outs. They still fought, but the need to eviscerate and destroy each other had dissipated. Without realizing it, Veronica had begun to rely on Logan for the thousand little, thoughtful things he did to make her life easier and better; whether easing her stress, making her laugh or just comforting her.
Their new-found maturity hadn’t diminished the incandescent spark that drew them together in the first place, however, and Logan had lost none of his adolescent ardor for her. He was still willing to fuck her at a moment’s notice: under the stars on his ocean-side deck, in the cramped back seat of her ancient LeBaron, against the leather of his Z-4, or on the table in the conference room of the Humanities Department at Hearst. For her part, Veronica continued to thrill at the sight of his body and never tired of his touch. Now, though, they also made love, spending endless hours under his silk sheets, or in the jacuzzi, exploring and inventing new ways to excite each other. And they talked, sometimes, really talked. It scared her. A lot.
“Yes, Pop. I would tell you if he hurt me. He hasn’t. We’re fine.” Veronica flipped her hair over her shoulders, pulled out the documents Logan had retrieved, and handed them to her Dad. “Here’s the stuff from the courthouse.”
“Thanks, Kiddo.” Keith rummaged through the file until he found what he’d been looking for. “Tell Logan he did a good job, Honey.”
Veronica wrinkled her nose and twitched her lips. She shot her father a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Huh?”
“Well, you had Logan get these, didn’t you?” Keith said smoothly, returning her glance with one of bland indifference. Veronica shrugged and admitted she had. They discussed the case. The target, Anthony Maccaluso, was a federal judge. Originally, Keith had been hired by the soon-to-be-ex-Mrs. Maccaluso. Shortly after taking the job, however, Keith learned the judge was taking bribes to fix a law suit for wealthy landowner, Buddy Buell. Mr. Buell had been cited by the EPA for numerous environmental violations on his properties, including improper disposal of hazardous waste materials and ground water pollution, and was enjoined from selling any land until it had been satisfactorily cleaned up. Buell sued the federal government to have the injunction dismissed and, much to everyone’s surprise, Judge Maccaluso granted the request and dissolved the injunction.
Keith’s involvement, he explained, came about when the FBI, who’d been checking into Buell, stumbled across Maccaluso, and Keith’s surveillance of him. They requested his help, and he agreed, in part because it’s difficult to say ‘no’ to the Bureau, but also because it was handy to have the feebes owe him one. Keith had heard a rumor that Buell had transferred an expensive marina membership, boat slip, and the yacht that went with it, to the Judge. He’d sent Veronica to see if she could find a deed for the dock slip and/or vessel.
Not surprisingly, the paper trail didn’t lead directly from Buell to Maccaluso. Instead, the yacht had been ‘scuttled’ and transferred to a holding company, which declared it ‘unsalvageable’ and sold it to the Judge for a pittance. According to the paper, Maccaluso had ‘inherited’ the boat slip from a distant relative who died unexpectedly.
The political fund raiser Veronica and Logan would be attending was being thrown for another wealthy, fat-cat Californian who was planning a run for governor. Both Buell and Maccaluso were on the guest list. Logan, who’d inherited Aaron’s country club membership, had been invited. Coincidentally, Keith wanted pictures of Maccaluso and Buell to corroborate the existence of their relationship. The two had been careful not to appear together in public, but the fund-raiser was a private function with a limited guest list, so the press was not allowed.
“So, you want pictures of them?”
“Yes, Veronica. Pictures, nothing more. I don’t want you involved in this any more than necessary. I don’t think it’ll be dangerous, but I’m only letting you go because I don’t think Logan can get the photos by himself, and he assured me he’d watch out for you.”
“So, you don’t want me to plant a bug or anything?” she challenged playfully.
“No, Veronica, I don’t want you to plant a bug. I don’t want you to do anything but take pictures. Besides, Veronica, these men don’t know you. How would you get close enough to plant a microphone?”
“Hello, Dad? Have you met me? Have you seen the dress I’m wearing?”
“Veronica,” he warned.
“And what did you mean you don’t want Logan to get the pic - when has Logan ever - is there something I don’t know, Dad? Has Logan been helping you in his spare time? Is that what he’s been doing that he doesn’t want to talk about?”
“Veronica,” Keith began sternly. “I can’t say it any plainer, I don’t want you to do anything other than take pictures, so just drop it. As for your boyfriend, I suggest you ask him what he’s been doing that he doesn’t want to talk about. You might be surprised.”
“I see,” Veronica responded quietly, wheels spinning. Logan and Dad are a lot closer than I ever knew. Wonder what else they’ve talked about? “Good night, Dad,” she yawned, getting up. “See you in the morning.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next afternoon, Logan wasn’t home when Veronica got there at 2:30. After checking her messages, and his, she grabbed a ‘Skist from the fridge and wandered onto the deck for some quality time with her constitutional law text. When Logan arrived, shortly before six, Chinese food in hand, he found her curled up on the chaise, face-down in her book. Knowing she’d been burning the candle hard, he swept a throw over her, put their dinner in the oven, and sat down with the newspaper, watching Veronica sleep as he read.
After reading the front page, checking his stocks, and reviewing the previous day’s scores, he trashed the paper and changed into track pants and a tee. Barefoot, he padded back to the deck and stretched out beside Veronica. He brushed the loose hair from her shoulder, draped his arm across her waist and, molding his body around her’s, tucked his chin against her shoulder and dozed off. It was dark when Veronica finally woke. Her wriggling roused Logan, who greeted her with a lazy kiss.
“Logan?”
“Um hmm. Yeah. What? I’m awake.”
“We need to talk, Logan.”
Noting her grim tone of voice, Logan rubbed his palms across his eyes, rolled onto his back and sat up. “Instead of talking, how about we eat and go to bed? I’ll even let you have your way with me." He held out his hand and pulled Veronica to his chest, closing her in his arms.
“I’m serious, Logan. We need to talk.”
Realizing she wouldn’t be deterred, Logan let go, pushed Veronica away, and stood up. He walked to the railing, stared out at the surf for a moment, and replied, “It’s like, what? Nine-thirty, and neither of us has eaten yet. You have class in the morning, and I have to see my counselor. I’m not trying to avoid conversation altogether, Veronica, but is it something that can wait ‘til tomorrow night, or will the earth shatter if we don’t have this discussion right now?”
“I hate when you act like the logical one.”
“What can I say? Even hell freezes over once in a while,” he smirked.
“Well, yeah. Even a broken clock is right twice a day. Don’t get any ideas, though. Remember, you’re the pretty one, but I wear the pants,” she rejoined mockingly.
“Is that why you keep trying to take my pants off me?”
“Not right now, sweetie. I guess we can wait ‘til tomorrow. Did you say something about food?”
“Did you say something about not wanting me to wear pants?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Breathless, Veronica got home about 5 p.m., her hair freshly coiffed and her nails polished the color of her evening gown. Lugging her dress, fancy, strappy shoes, and a gym bag, she trudged up to the master bedroom, calling for Logan. As she dumped her stuff on the bed and hung her dress on the closet door, she could hear him in the bathroom, muttering to no one. “Logan, are you hearing voices in your head again?” she hollered.
“Don’t come in here, Ronnie - ” He stopped as she nudged the door open. As she entered the palatial bath with its gleaming glass steam shower and deep soak tub, she saw Logan, shirtless, in his tuxedo slacks, standing in front of the mirror. He looked up sheepishly, a bottle of her foundation in his hand.
“Logan! What the - what happened to your eye?” Dismayed, Veronica stared at the large, purplish bruise blooming under Logan’s left eye. He dropped the triangular makeup sponge and gingerly touched his cheek, ineffectually trying to apply the cream-colored liquid over his black eye. “Logan,” she asked again, softly, her hand over her mouth. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing. Weevil and I were sparring after class and he got a little carried away.”
“Weevil did this to you? I thought Tae Kwon Do was supposed to improve your coordination?” Picking up the make-up sponge, he glared with his good eye. “Okay, okay. Maybe I don’t want to know how it happened.”
“He accidentally punched me. I just didn’t want to go out tonight looking like this.”
“You need some ice. Did you put ice on it? There’s an ice pack in the freezer.”
“No, I couldn’t find it,” Logan shrugged carelessly, swatting her hand as she tried to touch his cheek. “It’s not a big deal, Ron. I’m gonna be fine.”
“If you say so.” She shook her head and lowered her eyes to hide their twinkling. “Are you sure he didn’t mistake you for a piece of wood? You can be kind of blockheaded sometimes.” She reached for the applicator. “Here, let me.” Tossing the sponge in the garbage, she fumbled around ‘til she found a slender tube of cover stick. She rubbed some on her fingers and gently dabbed tiny spots along the crescent of the bruise. Starting from the outside of his eyelid, she carefully smoothed and blended the cream over Logan’s blackened skin, trying not to hurt him. Once she’d hidden the black eye, she brushed tawny powder over it to match Logan’s tan, and swept the excess off with her fingertips. She stepped back, admired her work, and motioned for him to look.
“I am endlessly amazed by your talents, Veronica,” he admitted, reaching to his face. Veronica slapped his hand away.
“First lesson of womanhood: don’t touch your face, you’ll smear the makeup.”
“And I so wanted to know that,” he muttered. “Looks okay, though?”
“You’ll do.” She gazed appraisingly at him, her eyes traveling from his face to his smoothly-muscled, semi-naked torso. As he turned to dry his hands, she got a glimpse of his ass in his perfectly-fitted tux trousers and felt a familiar, intoxicating flush rise in her cheeks. Her stomach fluttered. Watching her in the mirror, Logan noted her arousal, and his pupils darkened. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her ear.
“Can I kiss you before I put on my lipstick, Sugarpuss?” Laughing, Veronica put her arms around his neck and nuzzled his bare chest, planting small kisses along his sternum. “Maybe you want to get undressed first, baby,” he murmured, flicking his tongue on her neck as he slid his hand under her shirt and traced a line up her back to the clasp of her bra. With one quick movement, he unhooked the bra and removed her tee shirt.
“Logan? Do we have time? You’re already half-dressed.”
“We’ll make time.”
Logan’s hands encircled her ribs and Veronica hopped up as he hefted her into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his hips and eagerly mashed her mouth over his. As they kissed, Logan walked into the bedroom and placed her on the end of the bed. He carelessly shoved her bag to the floor and knelt next to her, his fingers trailing a line from her clavicle to her belly button. Veronica shivered delightedly as he unsnapped her jeans and yanked them off, and grabbed for him, pulling his body atop hers.
When they were spent, Veronica, blissed out and sated, relaxed in her lover’s arms, her eyes shutting as she dozed for a moment. She woke with a start. “Logan!”
“Yeah, babe?”
“What time is it? Are we going to be late?”
“Relax, ‘Ronica. It’s only 5:30. You’ve still got time to get beautiful.”
She wiggled to check her watch, her knee grazing the thin material at his crotch. “I thought I was always beautiful?”
“You’re the most beautiful in your birthday suit, but I have no intention of letting you leave the house that way,” he growled playfully, planting a kiss on her nose.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Logan glowed with pride as a beaming Veronica laced her arm through his and swept into the main dinning room of Torrey Pines. Her hair was piled in loose curls at the top of her head, a few wisps framing her face. She was wearing the simple emerald drops he’d given her when she graduated from Hearst, accompanied by the gold chain, studded with emeralds and diamonds, that he’d bought when she was admitted to law school. Her gown was forest green silk with a simple, fluttery, layered chiffon skirt. The top, tightly-fitted to just below her hips, had a deep vee that plunged almost to her navel.
Despite her protests, Logan knew Veronica loved to get dressed up, and he was always happy when she allowed him to admire her in her finery. Hands clasped, they made their way to the receiving line, glad-handed the local politician, man-of-the-hour, and sashayed to the bar, moving in time to the live band playing inside. Forgetting for a moment the tiny camera and microphone in her evening bag, Logan raised his glass and toasted Veronica. She blushed under his gaze as if she hadn’t taken him barely two hours before. After sipping the appletini that almost matched her dress, Veronica nudged Logan, tilting her head to one side. Logan, following the movement, realized the target, Maccaluso, was a few feet away, talking with a group that included a councilman from San Diego.
He winked and, placing a hand at the small of her back, lead her to them. “Councilman Saunders, right?” He proffered his hand. “Logan Echolls. We met last summer at the San Diego Arts Festival.” The two exchanged brief pleasantries and Logan introduced his “fiancee, Veronica,” deliberately omitting her last name. As the councilman introduced the other members of the group, including the Judge, to the couple, hands were extended and small talk ensued. Soon, Veronica found an opening to ‘confess’ she was studying to be an attorney and to engage the Judge in a conversation about the law.
As their conversation became more focused, Veronica and the Judge gradually separated themselves the others. Mindful of their assignment, Logan tried to appear nonchalant as he watched Veronica charm the Judge. He hardly flinched as the Judge became more animated and, to emphasize his points, began touching Veronica’s arm or hand as he blathered on and on. In addition to keeping tabs on Veronica, Logan’s eyes continually scanned the room to locate their other target, Buddy Buell. Finally, he found Buell lolling in a leather easy chair in the bar. He was smoking a fat cigar and accompanied by a striking brunette who was at least 20 years his junior.
He glanced up and realized Veronica had been cornered by the Judge on the far side of the room, his body blocking her most of her view. He straightened his shoulders and moved toward her determinedly. As if sensing his intention, Veronica met his gaze and subtly shook her head, warning him off. Frustrated, Logan shrugged and circled the room, stopping to speak to a wealthy, well-kept matron with show-girl legs who claimed she’d known his father “back in the day.” A few minutes later, Logan was relieved to see the Judge making his way to the lounge. Suddenly, Veronica was at his side, her small hand gripping his elbow as she confided her desire for another drink. Tactfully, they excused themselves and headed in the direction of the bar. Before they arrived, however, Veronica maneuvered Logan into an alcove to update him on her progress.
Smirking softly as Logan admitted his jealousy, she pointed out the Judge wasn’t nearly pretty enough for her; she’d be enjoying herself a lot more if George Clooney, a truly sexy older man, was her target. Reminding Logan she intended to plant a bug, she promised she wouldn’t let the Judge paw her too much. As they continued whispering, Logan noticed Maccaluso and Buell standing together at the corner of the bar, deep in conversation. He gathered Veronica in his arms and whirled her around the floor, spinning her a few times to put her within camera distance. Breathlessly protesting, Veronica insisted they stop. Begging for a glass of something, she sent Logan to the bar and pulled a compact from her beaded bag. Holding it up to ‘powder her nose’, she snapped about ten shots of the two men. When Logan came back with champagne, she gratefully downed it in two gulps. They decided to wait ‘til after dinner to tackle the microphone, and eased onto the veranda to steal a few moments of privacy.
Unfortunately, as they whispered and flirted, the Judge returned to reclaim Veronica for more dialogue. Logan’s face darkened as Maccaluso threw his arm over Veronica’s shoulders and clumsily tried to rub her neck. Although Logan manfully tried to maintain his cool, he could tell, from the look on Veronica’s face, that she did not appreciate the Judge’s aggressive familiarity. Twice she politely stepped out of Maccaluso’s octopus-like reach, only to have him invade her space again. The third time he tried, Logan jerked Veronica to his side and intertwined their hands. The Judge didn’t take the hint, however, and immediately began fingering the tiny silk straps criss-crossing her bare back. Unable to stop himself, Logan addressed Maccaluso.
“Excuse me, sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to stop touching my fiancee.”
“Nonsense, boy. There’s no need for you to get riled up. The little lassie and I are just having a friendly little conversation,” he leered. “I suggest you mind your manners, son. I’m sure the little filly told you, I’m a powerful man in a position to do her a favor some day,” he added, winking at Logan as he squeezed Veronica’s neck. “Besides, I haven’t heard the little woman complain, have you?” As he said this, Maccaluso smartly slapped Veronica’s ass. Startled, Veronica almost stumbled. Blinking quickly, she swallowed the indignant words forming on her lips. Logan saw her angry tears and stepped forward, fists clenched at his side as he tried to control his temper. Shaking her head quickly, Veronica frowned, unwilling to let Logan start a fight, embarrass Maccaluso and blow the gig.
“Listen, mister,” Logan retorted. “I’m not a boy, and I’m not your son.” He leaned in, his face mere inches from the Judge’s. “My father was an abusive, murdering bastard, and I learned early not to take crap from bullies. Now, get ... your ... hands ... off ... of... Veronica ... or -”
Instead of putting the Judge in his place, Logan’s words seemed to ignite something. Maccaluso’s broad, fleshy face contorted in rage. “I don’t know who you think you are, you little punk,” he roared. “But if you think you’re intimidating me -”
“Logan,” Veronica warned, but before she could finish, he slammed Maccaluso against the wall, his forearm pressed against the older man’s windpipe.
“Keep your hands off her,” he growled. “Got it?”
Logan casually placed all his weight on his arm and stared furiously at the Judge, daring him to fight back. Sputtering, unable to speak or breathe, Maccaluso glared, his sweaty face becoming redder and redder and the seconds ticked off.
“Logan! Logan! Let him go,” Veronica implored, her fists clenched. “He can’t breathe, Logan.” Unable to stand idly by, Veronica wound her fingers around Logan’s arm and gently tugged. “C’mon, Logan. It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.” The Judge began to cough and struggle, his breathing becoming more labored. “Logan! He’s a federal judge. Please let him go.”
Finally, Maccaluso nodded at Logan, who shivered suddenly, as if emerging from a trance. He stepped back and turned to Veronica. As Logan released his hold, Maccaluso heaved his bloated body off the wall and swung wildly. Instead of colliding with Logan’s jaw as he intended, Maccaluso’s fist crunched into Logan’s right eye, the one Weevil hadn’t blackened earlier. Impulsively, Veronica stepped toward Maccaluso, grabbed his arm, and smashed her knee into his groin. The Judge shrieked and doubled over, wheezing and drooling as he tried to keep his balance. Sensing movement from behind, Veronica whirled and caught Logan before he could finish the job. Wrapping her arms around Logan’s waist, she leaned heavily into him, whispering, “No, Logan.... I’m fine, Logan.... Let it go, please....”
Trembling angrily, Logan draped his arm over Veronica’s shoulders and allowed her to lead him through the bar and out into the velvety autumn night. Cupping his face in her slender hands, Veronica looked soberly into his chocolate eyes. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Logan grimaced and Veronica realized where Maccaluso’s punch had landed. Rising to her toes, she delicately kissed the tender flesh under his eye as it began to swell beneath her lips.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “I love you for defending me.”
“Is that all?” he grumped, his eyes shining. “Is that all I had to do to get you to say it?”
“Hey,” she snapped, pinching his shoulder. “I say it. I say it all the time.”
“No you don’t. I say it all the time. Saying ‘Me too’ doesn’t count.”
“I say it!” she retorted indignantly.
“You can’t even say it now,” he teased, folding his arms and glaring. “Go ahead, Veronica Mars. Say it,” he demanded.
Ignoring her irrational flash of fear, she responded to his challenge. “I love you, Logan Echolls.” Surreptiously wiping the nervous sweat from her hands, she flashed a smile. “Okay? Now, where’s the valet slip? We have to go home and put some ice on your black eye.”
He fumbled in his pockets and triumphantly removed the claim check, dangling it before her. Veronica jerked it from his hand and gave it to the driver discreetly hovering inside the kiosk.
“Ronnie?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t like ice. It’s too damn cold.”
“Oh, Logan,” she tsked, her lips moving against his ear. “Don’t worry. By the time I’m done, you’ll love it.”
“I hear you, babe, but they’re just words. I’m afraid you’re gonna have to show me, Ronnie.”
Finito.
A/N: The prompts that spawned this are an object, a black eye, and the lyric phrase “words are only words.”