Fic: Neptune is for (Secret) Lovers (1/4)
Fic Title: Neptune is for (Secret) Lovers (1/4)
Author: lit_chick08
Rating: NC-17 for sex and language
Word Count: 4,611
Pairing: LoVe but references VD
Summary: They’ve always done angry well; it’s the vulnerability they always had a problem with.
Spoilers: This is set during “Ahoy Mateys” so everything up to that
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with “Veronica Mars,” Rob Thomas, the CW, or anyone else who actually owns these characters. I also get no money for this.
A/N: This is a sequel to my fic The Best (and Only) Kept Secret in Neptune; you might want to read that one first since I kind of screwed with canon. Much love to everyone who read and responded to that one because it inspired this one!
Veronica Mars had never thought that she’d be as scared as she was last spring when Aaron Echolls had tossed her into that refrigerator and set it on fire. That was the single more terrifying moment of her life, and, as such, she did not think that anything would ever compete with it. What could possibly be worse than your best friend’s murderer attempting to murder you?
Liam Fitzpatrick pinning her down to a pool table by her neck in a bar where no one would care even if they did hear her scream was quickly competing to replace the Aaron Echolls debacle.
He smelled of alcohol and sweat, and as the tears threatened to spill, Veronica could only feel the blunt pressure of his fingers against the soft skin of her throat, the pain vibrating through her after the body slam against the table. All she could think of was the ways he could hurt her, exact revenge for her father arresting his brother, and she wanted to vomit because she knew that this was Liam Fitzpatrick of the Fighting Fitzpatricks, and there was nothing that he would not do to hurt her, a point that was more than driven home as he held the tattoo gun mere millimeters from her face.
When she heard Logan’s voice, she thought for a moment that she might be hallucinating in her panic; when she saw the gun he had pulled on the patrons of the River Stix, she was equal parts grateful and terrified.
In the Xterra, they are quiet, quieter than she can ever remember them being without some sort of sexual act happening. It isn’t until he stopped in front of the Mars Investigation office that the enormity of what just happened hit her. Even if she is the queen of compartmentalization, that compartment has runneth over; between the bus crash, Meg’s coma, Lamb sabotaging her father’s chance to regain the office he never should have lost, and Wallace’s sudden abandonment, there is no room in her heart for the fear that Liam Fitzpatrick had instilled.
It is his hand on her back that makes her explode. He is trying to be comforting, to assure her of her safety the same way he had done all those months ago in his bedroom when she had confessed the trauma of her rape. Technically, they had been enemies then, too, but it had been on the tail end of their malice; what she feels for him now is a complicated mixture of hatred and affection that has only grown with their complicated history.
He seems genuinely stunned at the bile she throws his way, and when she tells him he should get out of Neptune, part of her wishes that he would. The noble part of her justifies it by the fact that he really would be safer; the selfish part of her recognizes it would simply make her confusion less.
Veronica opened the door to the building, the staircase that led up to the office in front of her, when she realized that Logan had followed her.
“Veronica, wait!”
She spun, her eyeliner smudged beneath her left eye, her messenger’s bag weighing heavily upon her sore shoulder. “I have nothing left to say to you, Logan! Leave me alone!”
“Do you really want me to go?”
“Logan, I swear to God - “
“Do you really want me to leave Neptune?” he pressed, taking a step forward and purposefully invading her space.
“If it means that I’m not going to get manhandled by any more Irish thugs? That I don’t have to worry that PCH is going to burn down the Grand just so you don’t have a roof over your head? Then, yeah, Logan, I really want you gone!”
The expression on his face made her stomach twist. He had perfected the kicked puppy look years before they had ever started this disastrous dance, but it has always been effective at making her feel like shit.
“Well,” he said, his voice scratchy with repressed emotion, “then I promise not to darken your doorway again.”
As he disappeared out into the sunlit street, hopping into the car and peeling away from the curb like a mad man, Keith opened the outer office door and called down, “Veronica? You okay?”
Quickly wiping away her running makeup, she lied, “Yeah, Dad.”
* * *
Sometimes, when it was quiet and she wasn’t spending almost every waking moment trying to figure out her role in the bus crash or when her best friend will return from his self-imposed exile in Chi-town, she remembered how perfect things had been between her and Logan before everything fell apart.
Of course, “perfect” was a misnomer. After all, he had been under indictment for murder of a gang member and his father had tried to murder both Veronica and her father, but for Neptune…that was kind of as good as it could get.
But for those weeks in the summer before senior year started, Veronica had been as happy as she had been since Lilly. Normal had been the watchword, and being with Logan had made her feel just that. The regular teenage dates, the furtive make-out sessions in the backseats of the Xterra and the LaBaron, the way her father scowled whenever he was over…It had made Veronica feel like maybe - just maybe - she could go back to being the Veronica she had been before Aaron had smashed in Lilly’s skull and Madison had given her a trip to the dentist.
But it was still Neptune and God still hated her.
Logan’s self-destruction hadn’t been a total surprise; it was what he did. Girlfriend is murdered? Become a jackass who organizes bum fights. Mom commits suicide? Get wasted at an 80s themed dance and make a fool of yourself. New girlfriend thinks you might just be responsible for original girlfriend’s murder? Get drunk and perform your balance beam routine on the Coronado Bridge while instigating the biker gang that’s come to murder you.
Veronica was not surprised by her former lover’s self-destruct, but that also didn’t stop her from feeling fully responsible for it.
She was the one who had thought that Logan had driven back from Mexico to kill Lilly. She was the one who had told the Sheriff’s department. She was the one who had inadvertently broken the news to Weevil. She was the one who had ended things when he needed her most. And she was the one who had moved on quicker than you could say, “Damn, girl!” with Logan’s best friend, the golden boy with nary a blemish to his record that Logan had always felt inadequate when measured alongside.
Fuck…If she was in his shoes, she’d have been packing heat, too.
These were her thoughts as she sat through yet another FBLA meeting, this time without the added protection that Duncan’s presence usually offered her. She had no idea where her billionaire boyfriend was, but she was willing to bet his massive fortune that it was probably Meg-related. That meant that, as she pondered her own role in the downfall of Logan Echolls, the only possible buffer between herself and the man she kept trying to cast as the villain of the piece were the brothers Casablancas.
She should’ve joined the 4-H instead. Farming really was a dying art.
“So now that Mommy Dearest signed over the trust funds,” Dick said as he slid into the desk that separated Veronica from Logan, “I’m thinking we need to have a party.”
“I’m stunned,” Logan drawled, not bothering to look up at his friend.
“I’m serious, man! We’ll have a nice, little blowout at the family manor, get some booze, you can bust a nut with Kendall…What do you say?”
Before Logan could say anything, Veronica, disgusted by the image of Dick’s idea of celebration, snapped, “Gee, Dick, you’re a real class act,” before stomping out of the classroom.
As she shoved her books into her locker, she glanced at the locker that had been Wallace’s; she needed her best friend right now. This was worse than losing Lilly because, at least with Lilly, Veronica knew their separation was unavoidable; Wallace had chosen to leave her.
“What is your problem?” Logan demanded as he appeared at her elbow, anger in full bloom across his handsome face.
“No problem,” she replied in a clipped tone. “I mean, you’re about to go down for murder, you’re being framed by a puppet for the Fitzpatricks, but clearly your best option is alcohol poisoning with Dick. Happy nut busting!”
As Veronica tried to push past him, Logan grabbed her upper arm, pushing her back against the lockers. “You are unbelievable, you know that?”
“You do remember I carry a Taser, right?”
“You don’t get to have it both ways, Veronica! Either you don’t give a fuck what I do or you care! Which is it?”
Wrapping her arms around her middle, she scoffed. “Well, I thought you were headed out of town in the next available limo.”
Logan angrily tugged up his pant leg to reveal his electronic monitoring bracelet. “I believe I made my feelings about Fisty McRapesalot pretty clear. Until I’m cleared, you’re just going to have to deal with me.”
“I’m sick of dealing with you, Logan. You know, the thing that absolutely kills me, is that you aren’t stupid! This isn’t you! You’re not just some 09er douchebag that lives for bitches and brews!”
“Maybe I am.”
“No, you’re not, Logan! I know you!” Catching herself, realizing that she had just exposed more of herself than she had hoped, she quickly amended, “I knew you.” Softer, sadly, she repeated, “I knew you.”
The indignation on his face seemed to melt away. “Veronica…”
She recognized the tone of his voice, the familiar sighing of her name. It was the same voice he used this summer, the voice that had made her tremble to the core when it found its way into her ear during their more heated sessions. It was the voice he used to declare, “You’re so beautiful,” “You feel so good,” and especially, “I love you, Veronica.”
It was the voice she conjured in her head as Duncan labored away atop her with Logan in the next room.
“I can’t do this again, Logan,” she confessed, all of the fight going out of her. “I won’t.”
“Won’t what?”
“I won’t go through another year like last year. I can’t…do this sick dance with you all over again.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Are you kidding?!”
“You know, I liked your self-righteousness a lot better when you were putting out.”
Her hand flew so quickly that she didn’t even realize that she had slapped him until she saw the red handprint bloom on his already bruised cheek. The urge to apologize was on the tip of her tongue when Logan laughed mirthlessly.
“Not one of your better comebacks, sugar puss.”
And then he left Veronica standing by her locker, her hand stinging from the slap, wondering how she had ended up here.
* * *
Veronica knew how she ended up here.
She loved Logan. If there was anything she knew to the core of her being, it was that she had been madly, passionately in love with Logan Echolls; if she was being completely honest, she had loved him from the moment she had confessed her rape to him and he had been so tender to her. Their summer together had fulfilled every desire she ever had to be loved.
And it had terrified her even more. Every moment they spent together, every night she lied in the circle of his arms, Veronica began to wonder how much longer it would last, when he would leave, when he would be taken from her. With every passing day of 09er-PCH warfare, she had worried herself sick wondering when she would get a call saying that Logan had been killed.
She had broken up with him for self-preservation, hers and hopefully his. And when she saw him spinning out of control, she knew that she needed to get hers back. And she had never been more controlled and self-possessed than when she had been with Duncan.
Duncan was not exciting. He did not surprise her, did not make her furious, or make her blood sing with anticipation. What Duncan did was offer safety, stability, and routine, all things she had sorely been lacking since Lilly’s murder. The press of his mouth against hers never made her quiver; the brush of his fingers along her skin never made every muscle in her pelvis clench.
Duncan wanted the same thing she did: to go back to what they had been before Lilly’s death, before they had thought they were siblings, before that terrible night at Shelley Pomeroy’s party. The fact that it would never happen, that they’d never get that innocence back, only made their differences that much more obvious.
Mac was really the only female friend Veronica had left, and, during their hunt for Cap’n Krunk and Imitation Crab, Veronica had made a passing comment about how irritatingly frustrating she found Logan to be anymore. Mac had smirked and then laughed.
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Veronica, but you have to see the irony, right?”
“If I did, wouldn’t I be laughing, too?”
“Logan Echolls is, like, the male equivalent of you.”
“What?!”
“I mean, sure, he doesn’t right the wrongs or fight social injustice the way you seem to do, but, as far as badass-ery and standing up to the man…He’s the Sid to your Nancy, the Spike to your Buffy, the JD to your Veronica.”
“All of those romances ended in pain and death.”
Mac shrugged. “I didn’t say it was a romantic analogy, Veronica. I’m just saying, total asshat or not, you wouldn’t be Veronica Mars without Logan Echolls forcing you to be her.”
“Huh?”
Rolling her eyes, Mac sighed. “Okay. What I’m about to say I’m hoping you won’t take badly because I bruise easily, but…You’re Joey Potter, Veronica, and Duncan is your Dawson while Logan is your Pacey.”
“You watch Dawson’s Creek?”
“Immaterial! Anyway, Dawson knows everything about Joey and is probably her soul mate; but Pacey, he’s the one that makes her fight, makes her realize what she’s capable of, punches guys in the face who fuck with her.” Holding out both hands like scales, Mac reiterated, “Duncan and Logan.”
“Is this your way of telling me to dump Duncan and get back with Logan?”
Mac snorted. “Um, no. I like Duncan; he’s a nice guy and isn’t a total tool, which I think Logan is most of the time. But I also think there was probably a reason why you compromised everything you said you stood for to be with Logan. I mean, PCHer war or not, he’s still basically the same guy he was last summer.”
The whole conversation had made her desperately miss Wallace, who listened without ever advising.
* * *
Veronica was half asleep when her cell started ringing, an unfamiliar number flashing on the caller ID. She debated letting it go to voicemail for a half of a second before realizing that it could be Wallace, finally ending his silent treatment.
“Wallace?” she answered, hating the neediness in her voice.
“Sorry to disappoint,” Logan’s rough voice replied.
“Why are you calling me at 2 in the morning?”
“Believe me, if I had other options right now, I’d be taking them.”
“Logan - “
“I’m at Dog Beach, calling you on the cell phone that I lifted off of the biker that tied me up and forced me to play a little Russian Roulette.” When she didn’t reply, he asked, “I assume I have your attention now?”
“Are you okay?” she asked, already standing and shoving her feet into a pair of sneakers.
“Well, my face hurts like hell from getting jacked, but I’m not shot. My car’s still downtown, Duncan’s not answering his phone, and Dick is drunk enough to make Tara Reid seem sober. I just need a ride.”
“Twenty minutes,” she promised, grabbing her keys off of her desk.
* * *
Veronica found him seated near the surf, a silver cell in his hands, a large bruise already forming beneath his left eye. She shivered in the October air, wishing she had worn something more substantial than her old pep squad shorts and gray tank top, and, when she called his name, Logan slowly ambled to his feet.
“Thanks for coming,” he said when he reached her. “Know you didn’t want to.”
She reached up, gently probing the bruise on his face as he winced. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“Well, I’m bullet-free.”
Veronica felt tears starting to burn in her eyes. “Jesus, Logan…”
“This wasn’t my fault,” he immediately declared, a look on his face that reminded Veronica of a little boy standing beside his mother’s broken vase.
“Did I say that it was?” Catching the antagonism in her voice, Veronica took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Logan…”
“I don’t want to have this out again,” he cut in, suddenly sounding incredibly tired, “so could you please just drive me home?” Brushing past her towards the car, he added, “Maybe you’ll get lucky and DK will still be awake, ready and willing to give it his 15 minute best.”
“Why do you do that?!” she exploded, flinging her arms wide in a move she had stolen from him. “Why can’t you just leave it alone?!”
Logan turned slowly, leaning against the hood of the car, his face a devastating mixture of disbelief, anguish, and betrayal. “My mother is dead, Veronica. My father murdered my girlfriend. My sister is currently working her way across Europe on her back. The closest thing I had to a surrogate family packed their shit and moved to Napa, partly because I think they just can’t stand to look at me. I had exactly two people left in my life: you and Duncan. You know what I have now?” Not waiting for answer, he continued, “I have Dick.”
“You’re living with Duncan!”
“And why do you think I’m doing that, Veronica?!” Pushing away from the car, he challenged, “Do you really think that I don’t have the money to get my own place, that I’m so broke or desperate for male camaraderie that I have to share a suite with Duncan Kane? You think I like it?”
Veronica’s stomach began to knot as the implications of his speech began to sink in. Shaking her head, she held up her hands to get him to stop, but Logan plowed ahead.
“Every time I see you in the hall, I run into you in town, you look at me like I’m scum, if you even look at me at all. You made it perfectly clear that I am nothing to you anymore, and the only way…the only way I could even get close to you is by having to share a wall with your boyfriend.”
“Stop.”
“You weren’t just my girlfriend; you were my best friend, and you bailed. Do you know how that feels?”
Her mind instantly went to Wallace, ignoring her in Illinois, refusing to answer calls or emails; she had absolutely no romantic feelings towards Wallace Fennel but his abandonment had nearly driven her to the brink. To experience what Logan was describing - what she had done to him - sounded unbearable.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” she swore, trying to imbue every syllable with what she felt. “I was trying to do - “
“Yeah, I know the speech, sweetheart. It’s been on repeat in my head since August.”
“God damn it, Logan! What do you want from me?!”
Jaw set in anger, Logan stalked towards her and pulled her firmly against him. Before Veronica knew what was happening, Logan was kissing her, his mouth brutally mauling hers. She slid her hands up his chest, prepared to force him away, hit him with the car, and then throw it into reverse, when he broke away, panting heavily.
“I’m done wanting anything from you, Veronica. I’ll walk home.”
As Logan began to walk away, she called after him, her lips bruised, “It’s 15 miles to the Grand! Quit being an asshole!”
When he spun around and all but charged back to her, Veronica sincerely wondered for a moment if she was going to need to get her Taser. However, the second she felt his arms wrap around her, Veronica realized that she had been baiting him, leading him, begging him for this.
Three months was a long time.
He lifted her easily, depositing her on the hood of the car, his hands flying over her body as if to memorize every curve before she came to her senses. Veronica eagerly returned his kisses, her tongue following his when it retreated, her hands finding their way beneath his shirt as her fingernails lightly scratched. Logan moaned her name, his right hand finding its way to her breast, his thumb gently strumming her nipple.
“Oh, god…” she groaned, tugging his mouth back to hers.
During their brief relationship, Logan had learned many things about Veronica. He knew how to touch her, where to touch her, how quickly or slowly to move…And he had learned very early on during their clandestine hook-ups that, when given the opportunity, it was important to not waste time.
By his calculations, he had about ten minutes before Veronica’s extreme sense of morals reasserted themselves; that meant he had ten minutes to get as much of Veronica as he could.
“I miss you,” he panted against her neck as he peppered kisses to the soft skin there. “I miss this.”
“Yeah, well, this was never the problem,” Veronica pointed out, pitching her hips up as his fingers began to trace a pattern on her inner thigh.
As his hand slid further up, his fingers pushing up the leg of her shorts, hooking her panties and pulling them to the side, Logan suddenly remembered that this was where everything had started 3 years ago; the first time he had ever realized he was in love with Veronica Mars, it had been here on Dog Beach, back when she had been Duncan’s and he, a drunken mess in the wake of Lilly’s antics.
Maybe nothing had ever really changed.
She was soaked, wetter from Logan’s kisses and mild caresses than she had ever been during sex with Duncan. It was easy for Logan to slide two fingers inside of her, and Veronica’s cry shattered the silence of the night. The motion of Logan’s hand never ceased as he pumped his fingers gently, crooking them upwards in an attempt to reach the spot he knew would drive her crazy. With trembling hands, Veronica reached for his fly, tugging at the zipper and swearing at the button, trying to take him out.
He wasn’t wearing boxers, something that Veronica was grateful for given her seeming inability to get her hands to function. When his erection popped up into her hand, Logan moaned, his hips pushing forward into her hot, little hand.
Veronica didn’t want to have sex on the hood of her car, especially not in the parking lot of Dog Beach, but she was also fairly certain that there was nothing that was going to stop that. Mac had been right; whenever they were together, everything seemed to explode, for better or worse.
“Do you have something?” she whimpered as she began to crest, tugging more quickly on his dick.
Logan snickered. Of course he had something; he was Logan-fucking-Echolls.
Before he could reply, the night suddenly lit up with red and blue flashing lights, the familiar, short blip of a siren making Veronica’s heart stop.
Immediately releasing Logan, she began to desperately right her clothing. “Please don’t be Lamb. Please don’t be Lamb,” she murmured, pleading to every deity that had ever exited in every possible religion that it was the Sheriff’s night off.
Wincing as he tucked his erection back into his pants, Logan growled, “If it is, I will gladly be indicted for that murder.”
As the officer exited the car, Veronica winced; it was worse than Lamb.
“Hey, Veronica,” Leo greeted awkwardly, raising a hand in greeting.
“Hey, Leo,” she lamely replied, sliding off of the car.
The deputy glanced at Logan, who gave him the same arrogant smirk and jaunty wave he usually reserved for Clemmons, before informing them, “Beach’s closed.”
“We’ve leaving,” Veronica swore, wrapping her arms around her chest in an attempt to hide her rock hard nipples.
“Yeah, places to go, bikers to murder,” Logan added, sliding into the passenger seat of the LeBaron.
As Veronica climbed into the driver’s seat, Leo called, concern on his face, “Be careful, Veronica.”
She nodded as she pulled out onto the highway.
“What, no worries for me? That’s not very hospitable of Officer Good Body.”
“Shut up,” Veronica sighed, heading towards the Grand.
When they pulled up in front of the hotel, Veronica waited for Logan to exit the car. After nearly a minute of uncomfortable silence, she started, “Logan - “
“I won’t tell Duncan,” he interrupted, avoiding eye contact. “I know the drill.”
“That wasn’t - “
“Yes, it was.” Logan hopped out of the car, wincing at the pain of his severe case of blue balls. “Thanks for the ride.”
It wasn’t until Veronica was on her way back to the apartment, wondering how to spin her late night excursion to her father when she thought about what had happened tonight.
Last year, back when Logan had hated her in public and she had been struggling just to maintain her dignity in the face of his cruelty, she had despised herself after their hook-ups, hated the way she let her body control her. It had taken her months to rationalize the disconnect between Logan’s public persona and the man he revealed himself to be in private, the man she loved. It was the same struggle she had faced when they were actually in a relationship.
And, as she parked her car outside the apartment building, she realized that, some time between their first ill-fated hookup in the Echolls pool house and tonight on the beach, their roles had been reversed.
She was the antagonist now, the one that was cruel in public and saved tenderness for when no one else was around. In her quest for normal, she had become Logan.
In the quiet of her bedroom, Veronica pressed her face against her pillow, willing herself not to cry.
For all of her steps forward, she had just taken a running leap right back to where she had started.
Author: lit_chick08
Rating: NC-17 for sex and language
Word Count: 4,611
Pairing: LoVe but references VD
Summary: They’ve always done angry well; it’s the vulnerability they always had a problem with.
Spoilers: This is set during “Ahoy Mateys” so everything up to that
Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with “Veronica Mars,” Rob Thomas, the CW, or anyone else who actually owns these characters. I also get no money for this.
A/N: This is a sequel to my fic The Best (and Only) Kept Secret in Neptune; you might want to read that one first since I kind of screwed with canon. Much love to everyone who read and responded to that one because it inspired this one!
Veronica Mars had never thought that she’d be as scared as she was last spring when Aaron Echolls had tossed her into that refrigerator and set it on fire. That was the single more terrifying moment of her life, and, as such, she did not think that anything would ever compete with it. What could possibly be worse than your best friend’s murderer attempting to murder you?
Liam Fitzpatrick pinning her down to a pool table by her neck in a bar where no one would care even if they did hear her scream was quickly competing to replace the Aaron Echolls debacle.
He smelled of alcohol and sweat, and as the tears threatened to spill, Veronica could only feel the blunt pressure of his fingers against the soft skin of her throat, the pain vibrating through her after the body slam against the table. All she could think of was the ways he could hurt her, exact revenge for her father arresting his brother, and she wanted to vomit because she knew that this was Liam Fitzpatrick of the Fighting Fitzpatricks, and there was nothing that he would not do to hurt her, a point that was more than driven home as he held the tattoo gun mere millimeters from her face.
When she heard Logan’s voice, she thought for a moment that she might be hallucinating in her panic; when she saw the gun he had pulled on the patrons of the River Stix, she was equal parts grateful and terrified.
In the Xterra, they are quiet, quieter than she can ever remember them being without some sort of sexual act happening. It isn’t until he stopped in front of the Mars Investigation office that the enormity of what just happened hit her. Even if she is the queen of compartmentalization, that compartment has runneth over; between the bus crash, Meg’s coma, Lamb sabotaging her father’s chance to regain the office he never should have lost, and Wallace’s sudden abandonment, there is no room in her heart for the fear that Liam Fitzpatrick had instilled.
It is his hand on her back that makes her explode. He is trying to be comforting, to assure her of her safety the same way he had done all those months ago in his bedroom when she had confessed the trauma of her rape. Technically, they had been enemies then, too, but it had been on the tail end of their malice; what she feels for him now is a complicated mixture of hatred and affection that has only grown with their complicated history.
He seems genuinely stunned at the bile she throws his way, and when she tells him he should get out of Neptune, part of her wishes that he would. The noble part of her justifies it by the fact that he really would be safer; the selfish part of her recognizes it would simply make her confusion less.
Veronica opened the door to the building, the staircase that led up to the office in front of her, when she realized that Logan had followed her.
“Veronica, wait!”
She spun, her eyeliner smudged beneath her left eye, her messenger’s bag weighing heavily upon her sore shoulder. “I have nothing left to say to you, Logan! Leave me alone!”
“Do you really want me to go?”
“Logan, I swear to God - “
“Do you really want me to leave Neptune?” he pressed, taking a step forward and purposefully invading her space.
“If it means that I’m not going to get manhandled by any more Irish thugs? That I don’t have to worry that PCH is going to burn down the Grand just so you don’t have a roof over your head? Then, yeah, Logan, I really want you gone!”
The expression on his face made her stomach twist. He had perfected the kicked puppy look years before they had ever started this disastrous dance, but it has always been effective at making her feel like shit.
“Well,” he said, his voice scratchy with repressed emotion, “then I promise not to darken your doorway again.”
As he disappeared out into the sunlit street, hopping into the car and peeling away from the curb like a mad man, Keith opened the outer office door and called down, “Veronica? You okay?”
Quickly wiping away her running makeup, she lied, “Yeah, Dad.”
* * *
Sometimes, when it was quiet and she wasn’t spending almost every waking moment trying to figure out her role in the bus crash or when her best friend will return from his self-imposed exile in Chi-town, she remembered how perfect things had been between her and Logan before everything fell apart.
Of course, “perfect” was a misnomer. After all, he had been under indictment for murder of a gang member and his father had tried to murder both Veronica and her father, but for Neptune…that was kind of as good as it could get.
But for those weeks in the summer before senior year started, Veronica had been as happy as she had been since Lilly. Normal had been the watchword, and being with Logan had made her feel just that. The regular teenage dates, the furtive make-out sessions in the backseats of the Xterra and the LaBaron, the way her father scowled whenever he was over…It had made Veronica feel like maybe - just maybe - she could go back to being the Veronica she had been before Aaron had smashed in Lilly’s skull and Madison had given her a trip to the dentist.
But it was still Neptune and God still hated her.
Logan’s self-destruction hadn’t been a total surprise; it was what he did. Girlfriend is murdered? Become a jackass who organizes bum fights. Mom commits suicide? Get wasted at an 80s themed dance and make a fool of yourself. New girlfriend thinks you might just be responsible for original girlfriend’s murder? Get drunk and perform your balance beam routine on the Coronado Bridge while instigating the biker gang that’s come to murder you.
Veronica was not surprised by her former lover’s self-destruct, but that also didn’t stop her from feeling fully responsible for it.
She was the one who had thought that Logan had driven back from Mexico to kill Lilly. She was the one who had told the Sheriff’s department. She was the one who had inadvertently broken the news to Weevil. She was the one who had ended things when he needed her most. And she was the one who had moved on quicker than you could say, “Damn, girl!” with Logan’s best friend, the golden boy with nary a blemish to his record that Logan had always felt inadequate when measured alongside.
Fuck…If she was in his shoes, she’d have been packing heat, too.
These were her thoughts as she sat through yet another FBLA meeting, this time without the added protection that Duncan’s presence usually offered her. She had no idea where her billionaire boyfriend was, but she was willing to bet his massive fortune that it was probably Meg-related. That meant that, as she pondered her own role in the downfall of Logan Echolls, the only possible buffer between herself and the man she kept trying to cast as the villain of the piece were the brothers Casablancas.
She should’ve joined the 4-H instead. Farming really was a dying art.
“So now that Mommy Dearest signed over the trust funds,” Dick said as he slid into the desk that separated Veronica from Logan, “I’m thinking we need to have a party.”
“I’m stunned,” Logan drawled, not bothering to look up at his friend.
“I’m serious, man! We’ll have a nice, little blowout at the family manor, get some booze, you can bust a nut with Kendall…What do you say?”
Before Logan could say anything, Veronica, disgusted by the image of Dick’s idea of celebration, snapped, “Gee, Dick, you’re a real class act,” before stomping out of the classroom.
As she shoved her books into her locker, she glanced at the locker that had been Wallace’s; she needed her best friend right now. This was worse than losing Lilly because, at least with Lilly, Veronica knew their separation was unavoidable; Wallace had chosen to leave her.
“What is your problem?” Logan demanded as he appeared at her elbow, anger in full bloom across his handsome face.
“No problem,” she replied in a clipped tone. “I mean, you’re about to go down for murder, you’re being framed by a puppet for the Fitzpatricks, but clearly your best option is alcohol poisoning with Dick. Happy nut busting!”
As Veronica tried to push past him, Logan grabbed her upper arm, pushing her back against the lockers. “You are unbelievable, you know that?”
“You do remember I carry a Taser, right?”
“You don’t get to have it both ways, Veronica! Either you don’t give a fuck what I do or you care! Which is it?”
Wrapping her arms around her middle, she scoffed. “Well, I thought you were headed out of town in the next available limo.”
Logan angrily tugged up his pant leg to reveal his electronic monitoring bracelet. “I believe I made my feelings about Fisty McRapesalot pretty clear. Until I’m cleared, you’re just going to have to deal with me.”
“I’m sick of dealing with you, Logan. You know, the thing that absolutely kills me, is that you aren’t stupid! This isn’t you! You’re not just some 09er douchebag that lives for bitches and brews!”
“Maybe I am.”
“No, you’re not, Logan! I know you!” Catching herself, realizing that she had just exposed more of herself than she had hoped, she quickly amended, “I knew you.” Softer, sadly, she repeated, “I knew you.”
The indignation on his face seemed to melt away. “Veronica…”
She recognized the tone of his voice, the familiar sighing of her name. It was the same voice he used this summer, the voice that had made her tremble to the core when it found its way into her ear during their more heated sessions. It was the voice he used to declare, “You’re so beautiful,” “You feel so good,” and especially, “I love you, Veronica.”
It was the voice she conjured in her head as Duncan labored away atop her with Logan in the next room.
“I can’t do this again, Logan,” she confessed, all of the fight going out of her. “I won’t.”
“Won’t what?”
“I won’t go through another year like last year. I can’t…do this sick dance with you all over again.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Are you kidding?!”
“You know, I liked your self-righteousness a lot better when you were putting out.”
Her hand flew so quickly that she didn’t even realize that she had slapped him until she saw the red handprint bloom on his already bruised cheek. The urge to apologize was on the tip of her tongue when Logan laughed mirthlessly.
“Not one of your better comebacks, sugar puss.”
And then he left Veronica standing by her locker, her hand stinging from the slap, wondering how she had ended up here.
* * *
Veronica knew how she ended up here.
She loved Logan. If there was anything she knew to the core of her being, it was that she had been madly, passionately in love with Logan Echolls; if she was being completely honest, she had loved him from the moment she had confessed her rape to him and he had been so tender to her. Their summer together had fulfilled every desire she ever had to be loved.
And it had terrified her even more. Every moment they spent together, every night she lied in the circle of his arms, Veronica began to wonder how much longer it would last, when he would leave, when he would be taken from her. With every passing day of 09er-PCH warfare, she had worried herself sick wondering when she would get a call saying that Logan had been killed.
She had broken up with him for self-preservation, hers and hopefully his. And when she saw him spinning out of control, she knew that she needed to get hers back. And she had never been more controlled and self-possessed than when she had been with Duncan.
Duncan was not exciting. He did not surprise her, did not make her furious, or make her blood sing with anticipation. What Duncan did was offer safety, stability, and routine, all things she had sorely been lacking since Lilly’s murder. The press of his mouth against hers never made her quiver; the brush of his fingers along her skin never made every muscle in her pelvis clench.
Duncan wanted the same thing she did: to go back to what they had been before Lilly’s death, before they had thought they were siblings, before that terrible night at Shelley Pomeroy’s party. The fact that it would never happen, that they’d never get that innocence back, only made their differences that much more obvious.
Mac was really the only female friend Veronica had left, and, during their hunt for Cap’n Krunk and Imitation Crab, Veronica had made a passing comment about how irritatingly frustrating she found Logan to be anymore. Mac had smirked and then laughed.
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Veronica, but you have to see the irony, right?”
“If I did, wouldn’t I be laughing, too?”
“Logan Echolls is, like, the male equivalent of you.”
“What?!”
“I mean, sure, he doesn’t right the wrongs or fight social injustice the way you seem to do, but, as far as badass-ery and standing up to the man…He’s the Sid to your Nancy, the Spike to your Buffy, the JD to your Veronica.”
“All of those romances ended in pain and death.”
Mac shrugged. “I didn’t say it was a romantic analogy, Veronica. I’m just saying, total asshat or not, you wouldn’t be Veronica Mars without Logan Echolls forcing you to be her.”
“Huh?”
Rolling her eyes, Mac sighed. “Okay. What I’m about to say I’m hoping you won’t take badly because I bruise easily, but…You’re Joey Potter, Veronica, and Duncan is your Dawson while Logan is your Pacey.”
“You watch Dawson’s Creek?”
“Immaterial! Anyway, Dawson knows everything about Joey and is probably her soul mate; but Pacey, he’s the one that makes her fight, makes her realize what she’s capable of, punches guys in the face who fuck with her.” Holding out both hands like scales, Mac reiterated, “Duncan and Logan.”
“Is this your way of telling me to dump Duncan and get back with Logan?”
Mac snorted. “Um, no. I like Duncan; he’s a nice guy and isn’t a total tool, which I think Logan is most of the time. But I also think there was probably a reason why you compromised everything you said you stood for to be with Logan. I mean, PCHer war or not, he’s still basically the same guy he was last summer.”
The whole conversation had made her desperately miss Wallace, who listened without ever advising.
* * *
Veronica was half asleep when her cell started ringing, an unfamiliar number flashing on the caller ID. She debated letting it go to voicemail for a half of a second before realizing that it could be Wallace, finally ending his silent treatment.
“Wallace?” she answered, hating the neediness in her voice.
“Sorry to disappoint,” Logan’s rough voice replied.
“Why are you calling me at 2 in the morning?”
“Believe me, if I had other options right now, I’d be taking them.”
“Logan - “
“I’m at Dog Beach, calling you on the cell phone that I lifted off of the biker that tied me up and forced me to play a little Russian Roulette.” When she didn’t reply, he asked, “I assume I have your attention now?”
“Are you okay?” she asked, already standing and shoving her feet into a pair of sneakers.
“Well, my face hurts like hell from getting jacked, but I’m not shot. My car’s still downtown, Duncan’s not answering his phone, and Dick is drunk enough to make Tara Reid seem sober. I just need a ride.”
“Twenty minutes,” she promised, grabbing her keys off of her desk.
* * *
Veronica found him seated near the surf, a silver cell in his hands, a large bruise already forming beneath his left eye. She shivered in the October air, wishing she had worn something more substantial than her old pep squad shorts and gray tank top, and, when she called his name, Logan slowly ambled to his feet.
“Thanks for coming,” he said when he reached her. “Know you didn’t want to.”
She reached up, gently probing the bruise on his face as he winced. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“Well, I’m bullet-free.”
Veronica felt tears starting to burn in her eyes. “Jesus, Logan…”
“This wasn’t my fault,” he immediately declared, a look on his face that reminded Veronica of a little boy standing beside his mother’s broken vase.
“Did I say that it was?” Catching the antagonism in her voice, Veronica took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Logan…”
“I don’t want to have this out again,” he cut in, suddenly sounding incredibly tired, “so could you please just drive me home?” Brushing past her towards the car, he added, “Maybe you’ll get lucky and DK will still be awake, ready and willing to give it his 15 minute best.”
“Why do you do that?!” she exploded, flinging her arms wide in a move she had stolen from him. “Why can’t you just leave it alone?!”
Logan turned slowly, leaning against the hood of the car, his face a devastating mixture of disbelief, anguish, and betrayal. “My mother is dead, Veronica. My father murdered my girlfriend. My sister is currently working her way across Europe on her back. The closest thing I had to a surrogate family packed their shit and moved to Napa, partly because I think they just can’t stand to look at me. I had exactly two people left in my life: you and Duncan. You know what I have now?” Not waiting for answer, he continued, “I have Dick.”
“You’re living with Duncan!”
“And why do you think I’m doing that, Veronica?!” Pushing away from the car, he challenged, “Do you really think that I don’t have the money to get my own place, that I’m so broke or desperate for male camaraderie that I have to share a suite with Duncan Kane? You think I like it?”
Veronica’s stomach began to knot as the implications of his speech began to sink in. Shaking her head, she held up her hands to get him to stop, but Logan plowed ahead.
“Every time I see you in the hall, I run into you in town, you look at me like I’m scum, if you even look at me at all. You made it perfectly clear that I am nothing to you anymore, and the only way…the only way I could even get close to you is by having to share a wall with your boyfriend.”
“Stop.”
“You weren’t just my girlfriend; you were my best friend, and you bailed. Do you know how that feels?”
Her mind instantly went to Wallace, ignoring her in Illinois, refusing to answer calls or emails; she had absolutely no romantic feelings towards Wallace Fennel but his abandonment had nearly driven her to the brink. To experience what Logan was describing - what she had done to him - sounded unbearable.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” she swore, trying to imbue every syllable with what she felt. “I was trying to do - “
“Yeah, I know the speech, sweetheart. It’s been on repeat in my head since August.”
“God damn it, Logan! What do you want from me?!”
Jaw set in anger, Logan stalked towards her and pulled her firmly against him. Before Veronica knew what was happening, Logan was kissing her, his mouth brutally mauling hers. She slid her hands up his chest, prepared to force him away, hit him with the car, and then throw it into reverse, when he broke away, panting heavily.
“I’m done wanting anything from you, Veronica. I’ll walk home.”
As Logan began to walk away, she called after him, her lips bruised, “It’s 15 miles to the Grand! Quit being an asshole!”
When he spun around and all but charged back to her, Veronica sincerely wondered for a moment if she was going to need to get her Taser. However, the second she felt his arms wrap around her, Veronica realized that she had been baiting him, leading him, begging him for this.
Three months was a long time.
He lifted her easily, depositing her on the hood of the car, his hands flying over her body as if to memorize every curve before she came to her senses. Veronica eagerly returned his kisses, her tongue following his when it retreated, her hands finding their way beneath his shirt as her fingernails lightly scratched. Logan moaned her name, his right hand finding its way to her breast, his thumb gently strumming her nipple.
“Oh, god…” she groaned, tugging his mouth back to hers.
During their brief relationship, Logan had learned many things about Veronica. He knew how to touch her, where to touch her, how quickly or slowly to move…And he had learned very early on during their clandestine hook-ups that, when given the opportunity, it was important to not waste time.
By his calculations, he had about ten minutes before Veronica’s extreme sense of morals reasserted themselves; that meant he had ten minutes to get as much of Veronica as he could.
“I miss you,” he panted against her neck as he peppered kisses to the soft skin there. “I miss this.”
“Yeah, well, this was never the problem,” Veronica pointed out, pitching her hips up as his fingers began to trace a pattern on her inner thigh.
As his hand slid further up, his fingers pushing up the leg of her shorts, hooking her panties and pulling them to the side, Logan suddenly remembered that this was where everything had started 3 years ago; the first time he had ever realized he was in love with Veronica Mars, it had been here on Dog Beach, back when she had been Duncan’s and he, a drunken mess in the wake of Lilly’s antics.
Maybe nothing had ever really changed.
She was soaked, wetter from Logan’s kisses and mild caresses than she had ever been during sex with Duncan. It was easy for Logan to slide two fingers inside of her, and Veronica’s cry shattered the silence of the night. The motion of Logan’s hand never ceased as he pumped his fingers gently, crooking them upwards in an attempt to reach the spot he knew would drive her crazy. With trembling hands, Veronica reached for his fly, tugging at the zipper and swearing at the button, trying to take him out.
He wasn’t wearing boxers, something that Veronica was grateful for given her seeming inability to get her hands to function. When his erection popped up into her hand, Logan moaned, his hips pushing forward into her hot, little hand.
Veronica didn’t want to have sex on the hood of her car, especially not in the parking lot of Dog Beach, but she was also fairly certain that there was nothing that was going to stop that. Mac had been right; whenever they were together, everything seemed to explode, for better or worse.
“Do you have something?” she whimpered as she began to crest, tugging more quickly on his dick.
Logan snickered. Of course he had something; he was Logan-fucking-Echolls.
Before he could reply, the night suddenly lit up with red and blue flashing lights, the familiar, short blip of a siren making Veronica’s heart stop.
Immediately releasing Logan, she began to desperately right her clothing. “Please don’t be Lamb. Please don’t be Lamb,” she murmured, pleading to every deity that had ever exited in every possible religion that it was the Sheriff’s night off.
Wincing as he tucked his erection back into his pants, Logan growled, “If it is, I will gladly be indicted for that murder.”
As the officer exited the car, Veronica winced; it was worse than Lamb.
“Hey, Veronica,” Leo greeted awkwardly, raising a hand in greeting.
“Hey, Leo,” she lamely replied, sliding off of the car.
The deputy glanced at Logan, who gave him the same arrogant smirk and jaunty wave he usually reserved for Clemmons, before informing them, “Beach’s closed.”
“We’ve leaving,” Veronica swore, wrapping her arms around her chest in an attempt to hide her rock hard nipples.
“Yeah, places to go, bikers to murder,” Logan added, sliding into the passenger seat of the LeBaron.
As Veronica climbed into the driver’s seat, Leo called, concern on his face, “Be careful, Veronica.”
She nodded as she pulled out onto the highway.
“What, no worries for me? That’s not very hospitable of Officer Good Body.”
“Shut up,” Veronica sighed, heading towards the Grand.
When they pulled up in front of the hotel, Veronica waited for Logan to exit the car. After nearly a minute of uncomfortable silence, she started, “Logan - “
“I won’t tell Duncan,” he interrupted, avoiding eye contact. “I know the drill.”
“That wasn’t - “
“Yes, it was.” Logan hopped out of the car, wincing at the pain of his severe case of blue balls. “Thanks for the ride.”
It wasn’t until Veronica was on her way back to the apartment, wondering how to spin her late night excursion to her father when she thought about what had happened tonight.
Last year, back when Logan had hated her in public and she had been struggling just to maintain her dignity in the face of his cruelty, she had despised herself after their hook-ups, hated the way she let her body control her. It had taken her months to rationalize the disconnect between Logan’s public persona and the man he revealed himself to be in private, the man she loved. It was the same struggle she had faced when they were actually in a relationship.
And, as she parked her car outside the apartment building, she realized that, some time between their first ill-fated hookup in the Echolls pool house and tonight on the beach, their roles had been reversed.
She was the antagonist now, the one that was cruel in public and saved tenderness for when no one else was around. In her quest for normal, she had become Logan.
In the quiet of her bedroom, Veronica pressed her face against her pillow, willing herself not to cry.
For all of her steps forward, she had just taken a running leap right back to where she had started.