After the Kiss
This is my first ever Veronica fic, although I have been writing fanfiction for a good 7 years.
TITLE: After the Kiss
SPOILERS: Sort of hints at something in Weapons of Class Destruction (which I haven't yet seen)
RATING: PG-13
AUTHOR: Raye
DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Rob Thomas and UPN
DISTRIBUTION: Xposting to veronicamarsfic and veronicalogan and will eventually be on my site somewhere
DEDICATION: To Laura for not pestering but sort of pushing me down the right path
FEEDBACK: If you feel it deserves it. The fic only took me 20mins, so perhaps I could have worked on it longer.
He’s the bad boy. The one that your dad warns you to avoid at all costs. The one that your instincts tell you should be left alone. So why is it that it’s nearly 4am and I am just now getting up the courage to knock on his bedroom window?
Logan Echolls, he’s the sort of guy who you really shouldn’t like, he’s smug, perverse, and a complete bastard. The only girl he was ever really good to - and this is stretching it a bit - was my best friend, Lilly Kane, before she died of course. Since her death he has gone out of his way to prove that he is a player. He picks the prettiest girls, the richest girls and the ones with the ‘reputations’ (as long as they fit into one of the previous two categories) and dates them for a while, then he tosses them away like yesterday’s trash. So why am I here?
The light has just come on inside and I can hear moving as he gets up from his bed and walks across the room. Part of me wants to just leave, but the other part, the one that wants to know more about the passion I got a tiny glimpse of this afternoon, is demanding that I stay.
He opens the window and stares at me in the darkness, “Ronnie, what is it?” his voice is husky and filled with sleep, his eyes are slightly red and he has a few creases down one cheek from the pillow he had been lying on.
The words won’t come, I am standing here like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming, speeding, truck. Come on Mars, my inner voice taunts, you know exactly what you want. It’s true, I do, but I can’t say the words, it’s as though they are stuck somewhere between my voice box and my mouth.
“I don’t have time for this,” Logan moves to close the window, but my hand is there, stopping him before it can happen.
“I wanted…” I finally manage to get out the words, well two of them anyway…and then I am not thinking about my lack of verbosity, or anything else. I have wrapped my arms around him, my fingers speared through his short frosted hair and my lips are on his.
Pulling away from him I feel…I don’t know what I feel. This kiss was every bit as powerful, as consuming as the last and I don’t want it to just be this. Looking at the stunned expression on Logan’s face I can tell that he is struggling just as much as me to think of something witty to say. “I…uh…” Oh forget it! my inner sarcastic voice almost shouts.
Without giving him a chance to say anything I turn and leave as quickly and quietly as I came - being a private eye sometimes requires stealth. When I get to my car I pick up the ever-present binoculars from the passenger seat and peer through them. Logan is still standing at the window, a small smile on his lips, and for a moment I allow myself the pleasure of knowing that I put it there.
TITLE: After the Kiss
SPOILERS: Sort of hints at something in Weapons of Class Destruction (which I haven't yet seen)
RATING: PG-13
AUTHOR: Raye
DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to Rob Thomas and UPN
DISTRIBUTION: Xposting to veronicamarsfic and veronicalogan and will eventually be on my site somewhere
DEDICATION: To Laura for not pestering but sort of pushing me down the right path
FEEDBACK: If you feel it deserves it. The fic only took me 20mins, so perhaps I could have worked on it longer.
He’s the bad boy. The one that your dad warns you to avoid at all costs. The one that your instincts tell you should be left alone. So why is it that it’s nearly 4am and I am just now getting up the courage to knock on his bedroom window?
Logan Echolls, he’s the sort of guy who you really shouldn’t like, he’s smug, perverse, and a complete bastard. The only girl he was ever really good to - and this is stretching it a bit - was my best friend, Lilly Kane, before she died of course. Since her death he has gone out of his way to prove that he is a player. He picks the prettiest girls, the richest girls and the ones with the ‘reputations’ (as long as they fit into one of the previous two categories) and dates them for a while, then he tosses them away like yesterday’s trash. So why am I here?
The light has just come on inside and I can hear moving as he gets up from his bed and walks across the room. Part of me wants to just leave, but the other part, the one that wants to know more about the passion I got a tiny glimpse of this afternoon, is demanding that I stay.
He opens the window and stares at me in the darkness, “Ronnie, what is it?” his voice is husky and filled with sleep, his eyes are slightly red and he has a few creases down one cheek from the pillow he had been lying on.
The words won’t come, I am standing here like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming, speeding, truck. Come on Mars, my inner voice taunts, you know exactly what you want. It’s true, I do, but I can’t say the words, it’s as though they are stuck somewhere between my voice box and my mouth.
“I don’t have time for this,” Logan moves to close the window, but my hand is there, stopping him before it can happen.
“I wanted…” I finally manage to get out the words, well two of them anyway…and then I am not thinking about my lack of verbosity, or anything else. I have wrapped my arms around him, my fingers speared through his short frosted hair and my lips are on his.
Pulling away from him I feel…I don’t know what I feel. This kiss was every bit as powerful, as consuming as the last and I don’t want it to just be this. Looking at the stunned expression on Logan’s face I can tell that he is struggling just as much as me to think of something witty to say. “I…uh…” Oh forget it! my inner sarcastic voice almost shouts.
Without giving him a chance to say anything I turn and leave as quickly and quietly as I came - being a private eye sometimes requires stealth. When I get to my car I pick up the ever-present binoculars from the passenger seat and peer through them. Logan is still standing at the window, a small smile on his lips, and for a moment I allow myself the pleasure of knowing that I put it there.