Ficlet: "Okay" (Logan/Veronica) PG
"Okay"
By halfway2home
Disclaimer: I don’t own “Veronica Mars.” Rob’s your man. The song lyrics are from “Dead Things” by Emiliana Torrini.
Word Count: 1034
Rating: PG.
Spoilers: Through 2x22.
Pairing: Logan/Veronica
Summary: AU, Keith did die. It’s going to be okay.
Author’s Note: Thanks to eolivet for being the most wonderful beta.
“You're like me
We're both alone”
Veronica spends the summer curled up in Logan’s bed. Even when he’s not home, she slips in under the sheets and buries her face in the pillows. She likes that his place smells like him and not like her father’s cologne. There are no memories of sock puppets here.
The first time he finds her there, he smiles and says, “I always knew you wanted to get into my bed, but...” The rest of his words are lost as she pulls him by the hem of his shirt down besides her. After that, he just takes off his shoes and slips in wordlessly beside her, holding her tightly.
The maid comes by every day around noon, but she has stopped trying to make the bed, mostly because Veronica is always in it. She suspects that the maid thinks she has a terminal illness.
She sort of does.
---
At the funeral, they have a closed casket because the police never found a body (“Blown to pieces.”). Logan holds her hand the entire time, and she thinks of how he never went to his father’s funeral. The pastor’s words drift past her as she tries to remember what he was doing that day, but her mind is suddenly blank. Then people are standing up and they bury him (sort of).
It’s a “they” because Logan helped her plan it, taking over half the duties. She found him, one day, slouched over her laptop in the living room, rubbing his temples furiously.
“Hey,” she said softly, and he looked up at her, smilingly weakly. “What’s going on?”
“The funeral home wants to know what kind of flowers you want,” he said, pointing to the laptop, a website for flowers on the screen. He sighed defeatedly. “Veronica, I don’t know...”
“Any flowers will do. Any,” she replied, kissing his cheek. “Thank you.”
That’s what he was doing that day, she remembers the next morning.
---
He tells her that if she wants to keep the apartment, he can help, financially. He says something about memories, and she wants to yell that she doesn’t want memories. She wants her father.
Instead, she tells him that even after the funeral costs have been paid, there’ll be enough money left over from her dad’s life insurance to cover rent.
Still, as soon as the calendar reaches August, she gives the landlord her thirty days notice. School starts in September, anyway.
---
She realizes she hasn’t been to her place in three days. She thinks it’s odd that she hasn’t had to go back to get something. Then she walks into the living room to find that most of her belongings have somehow migrated to the Neptune Grand.
Logan walks through the front door, box in hand, and looks at her for a second, trying to measure her reaction. “That’s all of it. I put your household things and your dad’s...you know, in storage.”
She nods numbly before walking back into the bedroom, into her cocoon.
---
“Let’s go out. I’ll buy you the biggest piece of lasagna known to man.” His body tenses immediately against hers at the slip. Lasagna is for fathers and daughters.
“I’m tired.” She rolls over, pulling the sheets to her chin. She’s always tired these days.
He brushes his hand against her exposed shoulder. “Maybe you should talk to someone.”
“Like a shrink?” she asks, slightly surprised.
“Yeah.”
“Did you?” she asks, looking at him over her shoulder.
“No,” he answers, looking down, “but I’m not a model for well being.”
“I’ll be fine,” she says, closing her eyes, and he doesn’t bring it up again.
---
They’re sitting on the couch, her head planted on his shoulder, as some movie plays on the TV. She doesn’t know what it is. She’s long stopped paying attention.
She looks up at him as he laughs at a joke. He’s like her now (or she’s like him now), except she’s falling apart and he seems to be just fine.
“Look at us. Two orphans eating take-out,” she says, gesturing at the Chinese containers littering the coffee table. She doesn’t mention that she has a mother because Lianne’s as good as dead. “We should start a support group.”
He kisses the top of her head lightly. “I think that’s what this is.”
“How can you be so okay?” she asks, sitting up to face him. “I know your parents weren’t perfect, but they were your parents and you’re...you’re fine.” She doesn’t mention that she thinks his father was a bastard who deserved what he got.
He stands up, crossing over to the kitchen. “It’s not the same for everyone, Veronica. Okay?”
She nods, knowing she’s crossed a line.
“I’m okay,” he says suddenly, and she looks up in response, “because I still have you.”
---
“Move-in day. Wake up, sleepy.”
She grabs the nearest pillow, covering her head with it in protest.
“Veronica...” she hears his muffled voice through the pillow. “You have to get up.”
“No.” She throws the pillow aside, blinking against the light. She can weakly make out his blurry form leaning over her. “I don’t want to.”
He sighs deeply. “No, Veronica, I’m not going to let you sleep your life away in my bed. I know I’ve let you do it the whole summer, but... I just wanted to protect you and be with you.”
She looks into his eyes, and for the first time since her father died, she thinks she might be okay someday. “Let’s get a place together.” Away from here, somewhere with less crime scenes, she thinks.
“What?” He blinks in surprise.
“I don’t want to go to school without you.” She reaches out, pulling him down closer to her, fingers grazing over his cheeks. “You’re all I have now.”
He kisses her softly. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Bad things
Dead things
Sad things have to happen
Sometimes”
The End
By halfway2home
Disclaimer: I don’t own “Veronica Mars.” Rob’s your man. The song lyrics are from “Dead Things” by Emiliana Torrini.
Word Count: 1034
Rating: PG.
Spoilers: Through 2x22.
Pairing: Logan/Veronica
Summary: AU, Keith did die. It’s going to be okay.
Author’s Note: Thanks to eolivet for being the most wonderful beta.
“You're like me
We're both alone”
Veronica spends the summer curled up in Logan’s bed. Even when he’s not home, she slips in under the sheets and buries her face in the pillows. She likes that his place smells like him and not like her father’s cologne. There are no memories of sock puppets here.
The first time he finds her there, he smiles and says, “I always knew you wanted to get into my bed, but...” The rest of his words are lost as she pulls him by the hem of his shirt down besides her. After that, he just takes off his shoes and slips in wordlessly beside her, holding her tightly.
The maid comes by every day around noon, but she has stopped trying to make the bed, mostly because Veronica is always in it. She suspects that the maid thinks she has a terminal illness.
She sort of does.
---
At the funeral, they have a closed casket because the police never found a body (“Blown to pieces.”). Logan holds her hand the entire time, and she thinks of how he never went to his father’s funeral. The pastor’s words drift past her as she tries to remember what he was doing that day, but her mind is suddenly blank. Then people are standing up and they bury him (sort of).
It’s a “they” because Logan helped her plan it, taking over half the duties. She found him, one day, slouched over her laptop in the living room, rubbing his temples furiously.
“Hey,” she said softly, and he looked up at her, smilingly weakly. “What’s going on?”
“The funeral home wants to know what kind of flowers you want,” he said, pointing to the laptop, a website for flowers on the screen. He sighed defeatedly. “Veronica, I don’t know...”
“Any flowers will do. Any,” she replied, kissing his cheek. “Thank you.”
That’s what he was doing that day, she remembers the next morning.
---
He tells her that if she wants to keep the apartment, he can help, financially. He says something about memories, and she wants to yell that she doesn’t want memories. She wants her father.
Instead, she tells him that even after the funeral costs have been paid, there’ll be enough money left over from her dad’s life insurance to cover rent.
Still, as soon as the calendar reaches August, she gives the landlord her thirty days notice. School starts in September, anyway.
---
She realizes she hasn’t been to her place in three days. She thinks it’s odd that she hasn’t had to go back to get something. Then she walks into the living room to find that most of her belongings have somehow migrated to the Neptune Grand.
Logan walks through the front door, box in hand, and looks at her for a second, trying to measure her reaction. “That’s all of it. I put your household things and your dad’s...you know, in storage.”
She nods numbly before walking back into the bedroom, into her cocoon.
---
“Let’s go out. I’ll buy you the biggest piece of lasagna known to man.” His body tenses immediately against hers at the slip. Lasagna is for fathers and daughters.
“I’m tired.” She rolls over, pulling the sheets to her chin. She’s always tired these days.
He brushes his hand against her exposed shoulder. “Maybe you should talk to someone.”
“Like a shrink?” she asks, slightly surprised.
“Yeah.”
“Did you?” she asks, looking at him over her shoulder.
“No,” he answers, looking down, “but I’m not a model for well being.”
“I’ll be fine,” she says, closing her eyes, and he doesn’t bring it up again.
---
They’re sitting on the couch, her head planted on his shoulder, as some movie plays on the TV. She doesn’t know what it is. She’s long stopped paying attention.
She looks up at him as he laughs at a joke. He’s like her now (or she’s like him now), except she’s falling apart and he seems to be just fine.
“Look at us. Two orphans eating take-out,” she says, gesturing at the Chinese containers littering the coffee table. She doesn’t mention that she has a mother because Lianne’s as good as dead. “We should start a support group.”
He kisses the top of her head lightly. “I think that’s what this is.”
“How can you be so okay?” she asks, sitting up to face him. “I know your parents weren’t perfect, but they were your parents and you’re...you’re fine.” She doesn’t mention that she thinks his father was a bastard who deserved what he got.
He stands up, crossing over to the kitchen. “It’s not the same for everyone, Veronica. Okay?”
She nods, knowing she’s crossed a line.
“I’m okay,” he says suddenly, and she looks up in response, “because I still have you.”
---
“Move-in day. Wake up, sleepy.”
She grabs the nearest pillow, covering her head with it in protest.
“Veronica...” she hears his muffled voice through the pillow. “You have to get up.”
“No.” She throws the pillow aside, blinking against the light. She can weakly make out his blurry form leaning over her. “I don’t want to.”
He sighs deeply. “No, Veronica, I’m not going to let you sleep your life away in my bed. I know I’ve let you do it the whole summer, but... I just wanted to protect you and be with you.”
She looks into his eyes, and for the first time since her father died, she thinks she might be okay someday. “Let’s get a place together.” Away from here, somewhere with less crime scenes, she thinks.
“What?” He blinks in surprise.
“I don’t want to go to school without you.” She reaches out, pulling him down closer to her, fingers grazing over his cheeks. “You’re all I have now.”
He kisses her softly. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Bad things
Dead things
Sad things have to happen
Sometimes”
The End