Fic: The Boy Next Door (1/1)
Title: The Boy Next Door (1/1)
Author: Devil Piglet
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica, Keith
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Logan is neighborly, Neptune-style. This is just a bit of a story, originally written for a friend. YMMV.
Disclaimer: All characters of Veronica Mars are used without permission.
Spoilers/Warnings: 2.11 ('Donut Run') just to be safe.
It’s late, nearly midnight, and at the sound of the front door opening she comes out of her room to see her father collapse heavily at the kitchen table.
“What is it?” she asks, while dread starts its slow crawl up her gut. She’s so tired of bad news, thinks she’s had enough for a lifetime. From, oh, a few weeks ago (“Meg died”) to the day that she thought couldn’t get any worse (her alcoholic mother bankrupts Veronica even further, emotionally and financially and who knows how else) to the night it all started (“a disturbance at the Kane estate”).
She guesses she should be used to it.
“Logan,” her father begins, and the raw piercing terror shouldn’t surprise her, but it does. After all, she knows how she feels about him. It’s just that sometimes she believes her own lies.
“What - what did he do?”
“He helped me.”
She draws back, frowns. “Huh?”
“Yeah, that was kind of my reaction, too.”
Keith proceeds to relate a story that has Veronica alternately gaping and giggling. He tells her of his stakeout at the Neptune Grand, and how - momentarily distracted by a Padres segment on sports radio - he’d missed his quarry entering the hotel’s lobby at the same time he did. When the male half of the adulterous duo - an unfortunate bruiser named George - overheard Keith asking about “a tall guy, maybe six feet, light brown hair with an older woman,” he strode over to the check-in desk, fully ready to throw Keith out minus some of his teeth.
Keith had been (uncharacteristically, he insisted) at a loss for a cover story. The cheater’s suspicion was rapidly turning to hit first, ask questions later. And then a snarky, grating, only-mocking-if-you-knew-what-to-listen-for voice sounded behind them.
“Dad,” Logan whined, “Gimme twenty bucks for pizza.”
Keith and George both whirled, stared dumbly at a kid who looked precisely the part: obnoxious, needy, any father’s worst nightmare. And Logan of course was all those things to the Mars family, but George would never know exactly how.
“Hello…son,” Keith managed, finally recovering. “I thought I told you to stay upstairs.”
“Mom’s sleeping,” Logan replied (God, his sense of humor was cruel, even at his own expense) and then went on to nudge Keith, glancing pointedly at the wallet in his back pocket.
George stared from one to the other, clearly losing steam. But he hadn’t been sold yet, and Keith found himself handing Logan two ten-dollar bills, pressing them into the boy’s hand just a bit longer than necessary. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Logan grinned and waved him off. “Thanks, pops.”
After the vein in Keith’s neck had stopped throbbing, and George - unhappy about being denied a little bloodshed but willing to let it go in light of this new information - had departed, Keith sank down into one of the welcoming leather chairs that surrounded the Grand’s bar. He thought about calling George back - he wasn’t sure whether he might prefer a beatdown to being mistaken for Logan Echolls’ father.
Logan, who’d disappeared into the elevator once he’d relieved Keith of the cash, never joined him. So eventually Keith made his way back to his car, back home, back to his near-disbelieving daughter.
“And he didn’t, um…” Veronica trails off.
“Ask for anything else in return? Like a six-pack or my daughter’s hand in marriage or the illegal destruction of evidence? The night is still young.”
She scolds her father briefly, for being careless, and then heats up leftover lasagna. He ambles off to bed maybe an hour later, but Veronica can’t sleep. Tomorrow, she thinks, tomorrow will be a busy day.
***
Logan turns a corner, and she appears before him.
Isn’t that always the way?
Veronica smiles up at him, sweetness and sharp edges. The photo negative of Lilly, whom he still misses in a pitying, affectionate way. But Veronica is here and now, and standing in the way of Logan getting to the computer lab.
“Sugarbuns!” he says, loudly enough to cause titters from passing students. “Haven’t seen you around lately. Heavy action on the stroll?”
She rolls her eyes. “Gosh, Logan. Implying I’m a prostitute is so last year.”
This is supposed to be the part when she steers him into the girls’ room, but two shrill sophomores, wearing body glitter and ‘OhMyGodYouWillNotBelieveWhoJustTouchedMyArm’ expressions, beat them to it. Logan and Veronica grimace instinctively, and there’s a moment of awkwardness as it sinks in: that they aren’t so different, still; that they find the same shit horrifying or funny or touching on any given day.
It hurts him, more than he thinks it should.
Instead they settle for a momentarily deserted classroom. ESL, Logan thinks, staring easily over her head at the translations that plaster the walls. He’d used to speak conversational Spanish, with Lety, before his girlfriend-of-the-week had gotten her fired and her grandson had burned down Logan’s house and Logan had promptly gotten her evicted.
Bummer.
He rolls his shoulders, then his eyes as Veronica manhandles him roughly past Mrs. Soto’s desk. When she crosses her arms - together, they’ve always been a symphony of nonverbal communication - he knows they’re down to business.
He expects to be berated for one thing or another. He doesn’t expect what actually comes next.
“Thank you. For helping him.”
Logan frowns. Because he’d counted on Keith Mars’…intense dislike of him to keep the man quiet, and he doesn’t have a strategy for this conversation. Doesn’t have an exit plan.
“He could have gotten into real trouble,” she continues, while Logan’s skin starts to crawl. “So…thanks.”
“Hope this doesn’t ruin your image of me.”
“I think that would be pretty hard to do, considering what my image of you is.”
“Yeah, but the whole spontaneous-Good-Samaritan thing? That could do some real damage. I mean, I know you have a thing for the bad boys. Remember that hot make-out session we had after I got out on bail the first time?” His eyes widen and he affects a girlish falsetto. “’Oh, Logan, I was so worried!’”
And that gives him what he tells himself he wants - her eyes narrow and harden, her whole body stiffens (he abruptly recalls how it felt to melt those muscles under him) and she steps up for the attack. “You have to do this, don’t you? You can’t resist it, you bastard -”
“Hey, now,” he admonishes her. “Mom and Daddy Dearest did it all legal-like, at some Episcopalian church in Bel Air. None of this Brangelina nonsense for them.”
“God, stop. Just stop.” He can see she’s making an effort, and it amuses and touches him. “I brought you in here to thank you not do - this.”
“But this is what we do best.”
“Was.” She shakes her head. “I fall for it every time, don’t I?”
He doesn’t answer, because ‘it’ is what keeps her at a safe distance from him. She may be ready to dismantle some of their barriers but he’s not sure if he is. The pain is still raw; the pain makes him lash out.
But no matter how long they stand here, he can’t take back what he did for the ex-sheriff. No matter how much he antagonizes Veronica, he can’t honestly pretend that he wouldn’t do it again.
“I’ll probably use it against you,” he offers. “Sometime in the future. When you least expect it.” This sounds pathetic even to his own ears.
She smiles, and it’s not the same smile as before. “Okay,” she says. “Until then…”
“Until then.”
He’s startled to feel her fingers around his, giving his hand a brief squeeze. He’s missed this; Lilly’s caresses always carried with them a tinge of punishment but Veronica can be gentle, when she wants to be. Veronica can be forgiving.
She walks out of the classroom and he’s left alone there, promising himself this doesn’t change anything, swearing that last night was just a momentary lapse of his usual self-absorption.
But, yeah, he’d do it again.
The End.
Author: Devil Piglet
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica, Keith
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Logan is neighborly, Neptune-style. This is just a bit of a story, originally written for a friend. YMMV.
Disclaimer: All characters of Veronica Mars are used without permission.
Spoilers/Warnings: 2.11 ('Donut Run') just to be safe.
It’s late, nearly midnight, and at the sound of the front door opening she comes out of her room to see her father collapse heavily at the kitchen table.
“What is it?” she asks, while dread starts its slow crawl up her gut. She’s so tired of bad news, thinks she’s had enough for a lifetime. From, oh, a few weeks ago (“Meg died”) to the day that she thought couldn’t get any worse (her alcoholic mother bankrupts Veronica even further, emotionally and financially and who knows how else) to the night it all started (“a disturbance at the Kane estate”).
She guesses she should be used to it.
“Logan,” her father begins, and the raw piercing terror shouldn’t surprise her, but it does. After all, she knows how she feels about him. It’s just that sometimes she believes her own lies.
“What - what did he do?”
“He helped me.”
She draws back, frowns. “Huh?”
“Yeah, that was kind of my reaction, too.”
Keith proceeds to relate a story that has Veronica alternately gaping and giggling. He tells her of his stakeout at the Neptune Grand, and how - momentarily distracted by a Padres segment on sports radio - he’d missed his quarry entering the hotel’s lobby at the same time he did. When the male half of the adulterous duo - an unfortunate bruiser named George - overheard Keith asking about “a tall guy, maybe six feet, light brown hair with an older woman,” he strode over to the check-in desk, fully ready to throw Keith out minus some of his teeth.
Keith had been (uncharacteristically, he insisted) at a loss for a cover story. The cheater’s suspicion was rapidly turning to hit first, ask questions later. And then a snarky, grating, only-mocking-if-you-knew-what-to-listen-for voice sounded behind them.
“Dad,” Logan whined, “Gimme twenty bucks for pizza.”
Keith and George both whirled, stared dumbly at a kid who looked precisely the part: obnoxious, needy, any father’s worst nightmare. And Logan of course was all those things to the Mars family, but George would never know exactly how.
“Hello…son,” Keith managed, finally recovering. “I thought I told you to stay upstairs.”
“Mom’s sleeping,” Logan replied (God, his sense of humor was cruel, even at his own expense) and then went on to nudge Keith, glancing pointedly at the wallet in his back pocket.
George stared from one to the other, clearly losing steam. But he hadn’t been sold yet, and Keith found himself handing Logan two ten-dollar bills, pressing them into the boy’s hand just a bit longer than necessary. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Logan grinned and waved him off. “Thanks, pops.”
After the vein in Keith’s neck had stopped throbbing, and George - unhappy about being denied a little bloodshed but willing to let it go in light of this new information - had departed, Keith sank down into one of the welcoming leather chairs that surrounded the Grand’s bar. He thought about calling George back - he wasn’t sure whether he might prefer a beatdown to being mistaken for Logan Echolls’ father.
Logan, who’d disappeared into the elevator once he’d relieved Keith of the cash, never joined him. So eventually Keith made his way back to his car, back home, back to his near-disbelieving daughter.
“And he didn’t, um…” Veronica trails off.
“Ask for anything else in return? Like a six-pack or my daughter’s hand in marriage or the illegal destruction of evidence? The night is still young.”
She scolds her father briefly, for being careless, and then heats up leftover lasagna. He ambles off to bed maybe an hour later, but Veronica can’t sleep. Tomorrow, she thinks, tomorrow will be a busy day.
***
Logan turns a corner, and she appears before him.
Isn’t that always the way?
Veronica smiles up at him, sweetness and sharp edges. The photo negative of Lilly, whom he still misses in a pitying, affectionate way. But Veronica is here and now, and standing in the way of Logan getting to the computer lab.
“Sugarbuns!” he says, loudly enough to cause titters from passing students. “Haven’t seen you around lately. Heavy action on the stroll?”
She rolls her eyes. “Gosh, Logan. Implying I’m a prostitute is so last year.”
This is supposed to be the part when she steers him into the girls’ room, but two shrill sophomores, wearing body glitter and ‘OhMyGodYouWillNotBelieveWhoJustTouchedMyArm’ expressions, beat them to it. Logan and Veronica grimace instinctively, and there’s a moment of awkwardness as it sinks in: that they aren’t so different, still; that they find the same shit horrifying or funny or touching on any given day.
It hurts him, more than he thinks it should.
Instead they settle for a momentarily deserted classroom. ESL, Logan thinks, staring easily over her head at the translations that plaster the walls. He’d used to speak conversational Spanish, with Lety, before his girlfriend-of-the-week had gotten her fired and her grandson had burned down Logan’s house and Logan had promptly gotten her evicted.
Bummer.
He rolls his shoulders, then his eyes as Veronica manhandles him roughly past Mrs. Soto’s desk. When she crosses her arms - together, they’ve always been a symphony of nonverbal communication - he knows they’re down to business.
He expects to be berated for one thing or another. He doesn’t expect what actually comes next.
“Thank you. For helping him.”
Logan frowns. Because he’d counted on Keith Mars’…intense dislike of him to keep the man quiet, and he doesn’t have a strategy for this conversation. Doesn’t have an exit plan.
“He could have gotten into real trouble,” she continues, while Logan’s skin starts to crawl. “So…thanks.”
“Hope this doesn’t ruin your image of me.”
“I think that would be pretty hard to do, considering what my image of you is.”
“Yeah, but the whole spontaneous-Good-Samaritan thing? That could do some real damage. I mean, I know you have a thing for the bad boys. Remember that hot make-out session we had after I got out on bail the first time?” His eyes widen and he affects a girlish falsetto. “’Oh, Logan, I was so worried!’”
And that gives him what he tells himself he wants - her eyes narrow and harden, her whole body stiffens (he abruptly recalls how it felt to melt those muscles under him) and she steps up for the attack. “You have to do this, don’t you? You can’t resist it, you bastard -”
“Hey, now,” he admonishes her. “Mom and Daddy Dearest did it all legal-like, at some Episcopalian church in Bel Air. None of this Brangelina nonsense for them.”
“God, stop. Just stop.” He can see she’s making an effort, and it amuses and touches him. “I brought you in here to thank you not do - this.”
“But this is what we do best.”
“Was.” She shakes her head. “I fall for it every time, don’t I?”
He doesn’t answer, because ‘it’ is what keeps her at a safe distance from him. She may be ready to dismantle some of their barriers but he’s not sure if he is. The pain is still raw; the pain makes him lash out.
But no matter how long they stand here, he can’t take back what he did for the ex-sheriff. No matter how much he antagonizes Veronica, he can’t honestly pretend that he wouldn’t do it again.
“I’ll probably use it against you,” he offers. “Sometime in the future. When you least expect it.” This sounds pathetic even to his own ears.
She smiles, and it’s not the same smile as before. “Okay,” she says. “Until then…”
“Until then.”
He’s startled to feel her fingers around his, giving his hand a brief squeeze. He’s missed this; Lilly’s caresses always carried with them a tinge of punishment but Veronica can be gentle, when she wants to be. Veronica can be forgiving.
She walks out of the classroom and he’s left alone there, promising himself this doesn’t change anything, swearing that last night was just a momentary lapse of his usual self-absorption.
But, yeah, he’d do it again.
The End.