Fic: Venus and Mars (R) Logan/Veronica, Trevor, Claire
Title: Venus and Mars
Author: ladydisdain225
Character/Pairing: Logan/Veronica
Rating: Hard R
Word count: 6724
Summary: Logan and Veronica get a visit from Cupid. Crossover with Cupid
Spoilers: Through VM 2x13, general series spoilers for Cupid
Author’s note: Cupid was a short lived series created by Rob Thomas that featured Jeremy Piven and Paula Marshall (Also known as Becky James, Neptune High’s Councilor). Jeremy played Trevor Hale, a man convinced he was Cupid. Trevor believes himself exiled from Olympus until he can unite 100 couples. Paula played Claire Allen, his psychologist. That’s really all you need to know for the purposes of this fic. Thanks to shizam23 and queen_haq for their mad beta skills.
The door slammed open, skittering against the much abused doorstop and swinging back violently toward the visitor.
“Go away, Trevor.”
Claire made another careful note in the file in front of her. She didn’t have to look up. She knew exactly one person with such blatant disregard for propriety, or her privacy, or, well, anything actually. Trevor Hale.
When she did finally glance at him, he looked like he hadn’t slept for days. He was still cheerful, still annoying, but he looked tired - drawn.
“Nice attitude. Charming, really. Tell, me, do you treat all your patients with such compassion or am I special.”
“I’m, sorry, all the patients who burst into my office without an appointment or even knocking? Yes, yes I do.”
It was too early for her to deal with Trevor. Of course, it didn’t really matter what time of day it was, it would always be too early to deal with Trevor. Today? With a splitting headache and the O’Malleys’ endless bickering to look forward to at three, she really, really didn’t have the time or patience required.
He made his way around to her side of the desk, oblivious to her internal monologue as he came to stand next to her. He was a tad too close. It was part of his nature; he was always a tiny bit too close.
“Whatever. Look, I just wanted to give you the heads up; I’m not going to be at your group shindig this week so don’t call out the dogs or anything.”
She looked up sharply at that.
“What do you -”
“Now, I know, it’s going to be hard without me, but I jotted down a few ideas just to help you keep the ball rolling.” He slammed a scribbled list down in front of her, leaning over her to read from it. They were going to have to have a talk about personal space soon. “I realize that the last place is a strip joint, but I figure if you hit there first, every guy in the group is going to be so anxious to get laid you’ll double the hookups at the other places.”
“You honestly -”
“I know what you’re thinking: ‘what about the girls’ right?” He beamed at her and Claire clasped her hands tightly in front of her in an effort to keep from strangling him. “Not a problem, see you send them to the first club on their own. Boredom and insecurity works as well on women as exotic dancers do on men. Trust me.”
“Oh for the -”
“Too much? Is that too much? ‘Cause I’m telling you, you want results you have to think outside the box a bit.”
“Trevor-“
“No, you’re right. The box is good. What was I thinking? Fun, alcohol, nudity, that’ll never work - instead let’s all sit around in stiff-backed chairs in a boring room and talk about our feelings.”
“Trevor!” She stood abruptly, bracing herself against cool wood of her desk. He blinked at her and opened his mouth to continue.
“First of all,” she said quickly, lest he launch another verbal assault that would have him there all afternoon, “I will not be taking the group to a strip joint. Secondly, as we have discussed before, you are legally obligated to attend those group sessions. And lastly, would you please just, just... sit down over there for a minute?” She indicated the chairs on the other side of her desk. “And… and be quiet. Please? Thank you.”
She took her seat again with as much dignity as she could muster, carefully closing and storing the Anderson file before returning her attention to Trevor, who, like the overeager puppy he so frequently resembled, was practically bouncing out of his seat. He looked anxious and she wasn’t sure whether to be worried or to roll her eyes. Her headache was getting worse if possible.
“Can I talk now?”
“That depends, are we still on the subject of strip joints?”
“Only if you want to be.” She glared, but noted that the remark was almost automatic; there was no real awareness there. Something - presumably whatever was driving him away from class - had him preoccupied. Claire realized with a start that he’d begun to talk while she was musing and she forced herself to pay attention. “-way, you know I love our little get-togethers. Highlight of my week. This has nothing to do with me falling asleep last time, honest.”
She sighed. Why couldn’t he even just once make things easy? Just once.
“Trevor, you know those meetings are one of the conditions for your release. You can’t just skip out on them because you don’t feel like it. Unless you can produce a physician’s note, you’re going, end of story.”
“What are you my teacher? Provide a note.” He muttered that last to himself as he stood again, annoyance marking his usually agreeable face. “The simple fact is that I have to go out of town tomorrow. Urgent business, can’t be delayed, so sorry, I’m just not going to be able to make the party.”
“Business.” She smiled tightly at him. “Taggerty’s has you traveling now does it? I didn’t realize that bartending was the sort of job the required a decent frequent flier package.”
“You’d be surprised, but no, it’s not Taggerty’s.”
“Oh, so this is official Cupid ‘business’? What, you’ve given up on matching people in Chicago? Are we too cynical now? Or is this like a matchmaker’s convention? What about guest lecturers? Will they be confined to the Greco-Roman deities or is there a chance that Freya or Ishtar will make an appearance?”
“You know, I should have just gone without saying anything. Filled you in afterwards.”
He turned to leave and despite the fact that she really didn’t want to know, despite the fact that she was probably better off not knowing what wild goose chase he was currently on, she called after him:
“What, Trevor? What is so important that it can’t wait till Wednesday?”
He looked serious. It was an unnatural look for him
“My job. My real job. It’s not something I can pick up or put down at a moments notice, okay?” He tossed a magazine that she hadn’t noticed him carrying down on the desk in front of her.
She stared at it a moment, not comprehending.
“That’s a tabloid.”
He shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”
“But that’s a tabloid.”
“Look, I just go where I’m needed.”
“Really? Because the last I heard, Brad and Angelina were doing just fine.”
She picked up the copy of the Instigator. Its paper was cheap, both thin and gritty and she had a suspicion that the inferior newsprint was just waiting to attach itself to her fingers or the cuffs of her shirt. She felt like washing her hands.
“Well, actually those two have got - you know what? That’s not the point.” He leaned forward, finger stabbing at the cover in her hands, bending it back. It would have torn if she hadn’t let go. “Not them. Him.”
“Logan Echolls.” She looked up at him in astonishment. “You need to match Logan Echolls?”
*****
Logan had taken to driving at night. The suite was too quiet, too empty. The sterile opulence that never let him forget it was a hotel was suddenly stifling.
He’d tried drinking, but while there was the ultimate promise of oblivion, it took too long to get there. And the route to unconsciousness led far too often to morose introspection first. To bleary thoughts of all he’d lost or never had to begin with.
Lilly. Duncan. His mom. Veronica. Aaron.
The last killed him. Most of the time he could simply hate the bastard for the scum he was, but every now and then, with the help of enough alcohol, he’d slip, and instead of being the son-of-a-bitch who killed the love of his life, he was the dad who hadn’t cared enough about him to keep his hands off his girlfriend.
He didn’t drink much anymore.
Instead he drove aimlessly around Neptune, semi-consciously seeking out the streets where the name on the mailbox was more likely to be Rodriguez than Smith.
He was jumped once getting gas. Four or five of them, and the funny thing was that they didn’t even seem to be PCHers. He carried himself home four hours later, battered and bruised, blood streaking his clothing, staining the pristine sheets as he collapsed on the bed.
He’d been tempted to make that station a permanent part of his route, but instead he cut it out entirely. He wasn’t there yet, wherever there was.
So he drove.
It wasn’t usually enough to keep the what-ifs away, but it was generally enough so he could filter them a little. Instead of crying about Aaron he could miss Duncan. Instead of brooding about Lilly he could worry about Hannah.
Hannah.
It was easier when she hadn’t had a name. When she was just a faceless idea - a way to get at that fucker of a doctor, to get information, anything.
But Hannah was sweet - naïve really - and he tried to look down on her as just another sophomore girl who giggled too much and couldn’t keep eye contact without blushing. She looked at him without seeing a villain and he wondered if maybe Veronica was right and he was irredeemable because he was going to hurt this girl and not enough of him cared.
He didn’t want Veronica to be right for the simple reason that it made hating her extremely hard.
And when he didn’t hate her, he remembered lips on skin, a small hand clutching tightly at his, blonde hair brushing against his chest. The way her eyes would flash when she got pissed at him or gleam when she had a particularly good comeback.
Funny how Veronica was the one thing he never seemed able to filter out.
*****
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid that I’m still not fully grasping this.”
Trevor groaned and leaned back further in his chair, pushing off against her desk. She winced and then glared at him but he didn’t seem to notice.
“I’ll break it down as simply as possible. Me Cupid. Him single. I set him up, and I’m one couple closer to that magic hundred and everyone goes home happy. Although depending on how hot she is, he’ll probably be the happiest. Oh, what am I saying? He’ll definitely be the happiest.”
Pointedly ignoring that last comment she repeated the central question. “Yes, I understand your ‘mission’ Trevor, what I don’t understand is why you have to go to California to set up Aaron Echolls’ son.”
The Echolls family was about as notorious as you could get these days. Hollywood’s tragedy family, with more suicides, scandals, and arrests in one year than should be physically possible. They weren’t exactly what came to mind when one thought of true love.
Trevor had to know their family history. Even if he’d been living on a rock, he had to know it. He continued, however, blithely and disingenuously, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Well, I don’t think it’s fair to make him fly to Chicago, just so it’ll be convenient for me.”
The day had already dragged on for a painfully long time despite the fact that she’d been in the office for no more than half an hour. She glared at her empty coffee cup as though it had injured her, but didn’t dare risk calling Jaclyn to bring them more. The last thing she needed was a caffeinated Trevor Hale.
He continued urgently, “Look, I don’t know why it’s him. I’ve explained before. Sometimes I just get a feeling and-”
“And you know a pair of perfect strangers are destined to be together,” she interrupted. “Right, I know that. But you’re telling me this works on photographs?”
“I don’t know - apparently!” Trevor almost sounded bewildered. Since his usual approach to his delusion was one of deep seated knowledge, she almost felt encouraged. He frowned. “I don’t know the rules down here. My method was simple and depended almost entirely on my archery skills. I don’t have a plan. All I know is that I’m getting that feeling about this kid and it’s not the kind of thing you can ignore.”
“So you need to go to California.”
“I need to go to California.”
*****
Three weeks after Duncan left, Veronica started to pull extra shifts at The Hut. A month after that she was practically working full time, alternating between school, work, and sleep with little else to fill out the remaining pockets of time.
It meant she’d all but stopped working for her dad, but he preferred that anyway, and took no pains to hide it.
The key difference between long hours at The Hut and long hours on a stakeout was that at least the boredom at The Hut was of the mind numbing variety. Hours spent in her LeBaron with nothing to do but wait for the money shot left far too much room for regrets, too much room for boys she couldn’t afford to think about anymore.
She preferred the numbness, even if it did come with an unflattering satin vest.
It wasn’t that she regretted helping Duncan. It had been the right thing to do, and she knew it - one of the few things she’d done recently that she could be unequivocally proud of. And hey, it let him be with his daughter; that was the important thing. She refused to be jealous of a three month old baby.
The first week after he’d left, she’d decided that it wasn’t as hard to lose Duncan as she’d expected. After all, they were never going to last forever anyway, what couples did? Better that he’d left her sooner rather than later when she might have been naive enough to think they had a future. He’d probably saved her just in time. Much longer and it might have actually hurt.
Love didn’t last. She knew that. She’d spent the past six months trying to ignore that fact, but there it was. She was always going to lose him. At least this way, it was on her own terms.
She repeated that over and over again for two weeks until she almost had herself believing it. Till the ache inside dulled to a minor twinge and she thought of Duncan only every other day instead of every five minutes.
But instead of freeing her to actually move on with her life, her mind seemed to have substituted one boy for another. Instead of moping about Duncan, she was worrying about Logan. Wondering if how he was coping without his friend, hoping he didn’t get into more trouble, knowing that hope was useless.
He’d been skipping classes more and more and she wanted to shake him for being such an idiot, but she couldn’t talk to Logan any more. He didn’t want to see her and she wasn’t sure she could face seeing him. Because seeing him led to memories. Hurled words and broken headlights, fingers in her hair, his forehead resting against hers. The broken look in his eyes that scared her more than his insults ever did.
She waited tables rather than be alone with her thoughts. The last thing she needed was to remember.
*****
The place was dark, the minimal lighting casting a blueish tinge over the sprawling chairs and couches. A perky brunette greeted them and led them to a table in a corner, assuring them their server would be right with them and wishing them a ‘super wonderful day’ with the kind of earnest pep that suggested the sentiment was more personal conviction than restaurant policy.
Trevor had been like a four year old on the plane, playing with his seat, the tray, calling the stewardesses over every five minutes to chat before turning in his seat and doing his best to unite Joanne Renolds, kindergarten teacher with Mark Black, computer sales rep.
Claire stared at the menu, her brows knit thoughtfully. Joanne and Mark had exchanged numbers before getting off the plane. Whatever his delusions, the man no uncertain knack for pairing people. Not that it made him any easier to deal with on a day to day basis.
“What are we doing here?” Trevor whispered as soon as they were seated. He’d gotten more and more anxious the closer they got to Neptune, like he was fighting some unknown deadline, and every delay made him nervous - and consequently, harder to deal with.
“I am getting coffee. You are annoying me.”
“I’m annoying you? I’m not the one who shoehorned herself into somebody else’s trip.”
“For the last time, I am not trying to shoehorn myself in. You are, ultimately, my responsibility, Trevor, okay? My job relies on you not doing any damage to yourself or others for the sake of your delusion. Since you insisted on pursuing this matter, I simply thought it would be prudent to come along, given the sensitive nature of the subject involved-”
“Sensitive nature?” Trevor snorted dismissively. “He’s an eighteen year old boy. He probably doesn’t understand the meaning of the word.”
Claire frowned. She wasn’t sure she was going to be able to handle several days of Trevor with no one to run interference for her.
“He’s an eighteen year old boy whose mom recently killed herself and whose dad is on trial for killing his girlfriend after first sleeping with her. You wouldn’t consider that sensitive?”
“No, you’re right. And you know what, I’m going to phrase it exactly like that when I talk to him. That’s a hell of a bedside manner you’ve got there.”
“Trevor.”
“Dr. Allen.”
“Trevor.”
“Dr. Allen.”
She sighed. “From everything I can tell Logan Echolls is a very unstable and unhappy young man, and honestly, who could blame him?”
“And what better way to make someone happy then finding their love?”
“See this is exactly the sort of cavalier attitude I was afraid of. This boy is fragile, Trevor. He’s experienced some very real trauma in the last year and that’s not the sort of thing you can simply discount.”
“I’m not discounting it; I’m just saying it doesn’t matter.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake-”
“Are you guys ready to order?”
Claire jumped slightly, turning in surprise. Their server was a petite blonde, whose smile, unlike her coworker’s, didn’t quite meet her eyes. She regarded them coolly, almost judgmentally from behind the manufactured smile. Startled and somewhat taken aback, Claire was momentarily unable to think of her order, which, unfortunately, gave Trevor the opportunity to jump in.
“What would you recommend,” he peered at her nametag, “Veronica?”
She rattled off the specials promptly and professionally and again with that slightly false cheerfulness, while those keen eyes raked them over and Claire wondered exactly it was she was suspicious of.
If Trevor found the girl’s attitude off-putting however, he showed no sign of it. He chatted merrily although the girl was never fully drawn into the conversation, simply answering his questions perfunctorily without further contributions.
When Claire was finally able to interrupt the constant stream of babble to ask for her latte, the girl seized the opportunity to break away, murmuring that she’d have it out shortly.
Trevor watched her head back to the counter with an unusually pleased expression on his face and she couldn’t help asking him what had him so excited.
He turned to her, still grinning broadly, as he explained. “She’s the one.”
“The one?” she asked blankly.
“The girl for Logan. I’d been wondering - you know it’s far harder to match-make when you don’t actually have a match available, but the second she introduced herself, I knew.”
Something was bothering her about their waitress and she refused to believe that it was simply that the girl wasn’t cheerful. She studied the girl as she prepared her latte and tried to think what it was but it wasn’t until Trevor mentioned her name - Veronica - again that it hit her.
“Oh my God, that’s Veronica Mars.”
“While I’m thrilled you’re finally addressing me properly, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She refused to be distracted. “The girl, our server, she’s Veronica Mars.”
“I like the name; Pops would be thrilled, really, but it’s still not ringing any bells.”
Claire turned to him exasperation. “The girl that Aaron Echolls attacked last spring? The prime witness against him in his upcoming trial? That’s her. And if I’m remembering correctly, she was actually dating Logan Echolls at the time of the attack and even for a short while afterwards.”
Trevor looked mildly stunned, and she reveled a bit in being able to surprise him for once. He certainly spent enough time making sure she was off balance; it felt good to return the favor.
He was still silent when Veronica came back and if the girl had looked suspicious of them before she was doubly so now, and after a minute Claire realized that Veronica could tell she’d been recognized. The child was bracing herself for some sort of comment and looked palpably relieved when Claire accepted her drink with a simple ‘thank you’, seizing the opportunity to slip away from them before Trevor could recover his powers of speech.
Claire took a sip of her latte, which was perfect - she mentally added a few more points in Veronica’s favor, as anyone who could make such a latte was clearly a force for good - and considered that the girl’s attitude made a lot more sense given this new information.
She’d read enough articles on the Echolls case to get a decent idea of the girl’s profile - broken home, ostracized from her peers, and a father who treated her more like an adult than like a developing and insecure adolescent. Add to that the distress of her ordeal with Aaron Echolls and the intense media scrutiny that followed and was a wonder she hadn’t shut down completely.
Trevor was talking again, and she directed herself to pay attention.
“Okay, so they have a prior relationship. That makes things even easier. They wanted each other once, but circumstances drove them apart, until, in the last five minutes of the movie, they find each other again! It’s a classic. It’ll run forever. Bring your tissues, cause it’s that touching.”
“Are you done?”
“Not really, no. You realize how perfect this is? I get him here, get them both talking, they reminisce. It’s ideal.”
She set her drink down and attempted to convey the seriousness of the situation. “Trevor, for once in your life could you just think things through? This girl is ultimately responsible for putting Logan’s father away for murder. Whether he knowingly blames her or not, that’s not the kind of thing people can just work through.”
Trevor shrugged. “They still love each other.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes. I do. I told you. I had a feeling.” Their greatest fear had always been that Trevor’s obsession with matchmaking would keep him from considering the interests of the people around him, and she was suddenly frightened that he was crossing that line. She cast about for another approach.
“Okay, you know what? Let’s say for a second that they do still love each other. That doesn’t change anything, Trevor. There’s only so much stress a relationship can take and those two have had more stress in the past year than anyone should have to face in a lifetime. An attempt at reconciliation at this juncture would likely be extremely painful.”
“Love is pain, baby.”
“You’re not listening. What you propose is only going to get these two hurt.”
“You’re wrong, Claire. And I’ll prove it to you. Yes. Love can hurt, but that’s not a reason not to experience it. I’m telling you, those two are hurting separately already. And just maybe if they get back together, they’ll start to heal.”
This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea, but outside of hospitalizing him there wasn’t exactly anything she could do. She missed Champ - she needed somebody with the ability to corral Trevor.
Looking blindly around for some sort of inspiration her eye caught some movement towards the hostess’s table.
“Well, it looks like you’ve got your chance.”
“What?”
“Logan Echolls just walked in the front door.”
*****
He should have suggested Starbucks. He should have asked for a rain check. He should have said he was washing his hair. He should have done anything else rather than agree to meet Hannah at Java The Hut.
He’d known, instinctively, that she’d be working there. He didn’t know her hours anymore, but it didn’t matter. She’d be there. And while a part of him almost relished the idea of parading Hannah in front of her, the rest of him balked at the thought. He didn’t know if he could bear more of her open scorn. If he was honest with himself he wasn’t sure he could handle a hurt look either.
He asked the hostess, as discretely as possible, not to be put in Veronica’s section. It probably wouldn’t do him a lot of good, but at least that way they could avoid direct contact.
Hannah wasn’t there yet. He took his seat in the overstuffed armchair and accepted the proffered menu, even though he’d memorized its contents months ago.
He could see her moving out of the corner of his eye, and part of him wanted to turn away completely, refuse to let her take up any of his focus, the rest hardly dared to breathe lest he lose that ephemeral contact.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” The guy sat down without waiting for an answer, forcing Logan to lose sight of Veronica as he turned to yell at him.
“Yeah, actually I do.”
“Trevor Hale.”
“Funny, I don’t remember asking.”
The man leaned back in his chair - Hannah’s chair. “I’ll be quick. You’ll hardly know I’m here, promise.”
“Look, dude, whatever you’re selling I can already get elsewhere, okay? So just f-“
“You love her, right?”
That got his attention. “What the hell?”
“The waitress, the blonde. Veronica.”
He snorted softly. “What are you, her pimp?”
“Cute.” The man grinned, neither offended nor amused. “I’m here to help you out, man.”
“Yeah, that’s great, dude, really, but I’m actually kinda meeting someone.”
The guy leaned forward suddenly serious, and this was weirding him the fuck out. “Look, you want her back, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Please. Your eye hasn’t stopped following her since you entered.”
Logan colored slightly at that. He hadn’t thought he’d been that obvious. He glanced at Veronica again. Had she noticed? The guy’s grin got broader, like who the hell did he think he was anyway.
“Yeah, so my eyes are open. You got a point?”
“My point, you idiot, is that she wants you back too.”
Involuntarily, his eyes went to Veronica again.
“And you know that how, exactly?”
“Well, I actually have the inside scoop on the whole thing, but if you want your proof, try the fact that she’s been looking over at you more or less constantly.” The guy stood, walking backward as he called in a slightly too loud tone. “Do us all a favor and tell her.” He then turned and left.
What the hell?
*****
Veronica leaned against the wall of the storage room that doubled as the employee break room. Bad enough that Logan Echolls violated the sanctity of her workplace for what she was queasily certain was going to wind up being his Valentine’s date, but now Karen was begging off sick - where sick could loosely be translated as “I’m going to hang out with my boyfriend. Suck it up, single girl.” - and she was going to have to cover her tables. Her tables, which happened to include the one that Logan was sitting at.
She wondered idly if she’d angered the gods, because there was no way this wasn’t punishment for some unnamed crime.
It was really a shame that she couldn’t hide in the closet forever, but she couldn’t exactly afford to be fired. Plus there was a draft coming in from somewhere and she didn’t have anywhere to sit down.
With a sigh she stepped out of the break room, plastering a smile on her face before heading over to Logan’s table.
“Are you ready to order?”
For a second, he didn’t say anything, just regarded her with a fixed gaze, and she couldn’t help feeling suddenly nervous. She quashed that firmly and let her ‘customer smile’ fade.
“Logan? Sometime today?”
His expression darkened as he glared at her, “What’s the matter Mars? Customer service too difficult a concept for you?”
“Apparently as difficult as reading a menu is for you. How’s that coming? You need me to help you with the big words?”
He smirked and she couldn’t tell whether he was amused or furious. She wondered wildly why she even cared.
“You know what, Veronica, I think I’ll wait. My date hasn’t shown up yet, wouldn’t want to order without her.”
“I’m sure she’ll be along as soon as she finds a sitter for the kids.”
“Aw. Bitter you couldn’t even keep your boyfriend in the country?”
She couldn’t help it, she flinched and his smile widened fractionally. She could see him gearing up to press his advantage further and suddenly she couldn’t be in the same room as him, couldn’t stand to hear the accusations that were bound to come forth, to see that bitter look come in his eyes.
“You know, what, I can’t do this. I can’t -”
She stumbled back, calling to Lisa that she had a sudden migraine, and she hated to leave her in the lurch like this, but she needed to go home.
She felt him following her as she ran to the parking lot, but she didn’t stop.
The gods were definitely punishing her.
*****
Claire sighed as she watched the two go from civil to upset in less than thirty seconds. She turned to Trevor, who’d been keeping a running commentary along the lines of “Tell her how you feel now, you dimwit.” And “Don’t let her leave! Kiss her if you have to.” He looked tired.
“Well, Trevor, that went brilliantly.” She couldn’t help feeling a little smug. “I don’t know what I was worried about.”
“That boy is an idiot,” muttered Trevor as he watched the kid wander back in after trying to catch the girl he had just driven away.
“He’s eighteen. That pretty much goes with the territory. Now have we done enough damage, or is there anyone else you want to make cry?”
“Of course we’re not done. They’re not together, so I’m not done.”
“Trevor, you can’t just make people reconcile.”
“I used to be able to.”
“Fine, you used to. But in case you've forgotten, we aren’t on Olympus, you don’t have your magic bow, and in real life, people don’t just work through their differences because you want them to.”
“It’ll be fine. I just need another plan.”
“Trevor, just, let it go - please? For once could you let these people decide on their own?”
“They love each other,” he insisted.
She smiled sadly. “That’s not always enough.”
*****
He’d wound up canceling on Hannah. He could hear the edge of tears in her voice even as she’d brightly accepted his words, telling him that of course she understood and she hoped he felt better soon. He kept the call short, the last thing he’d needed was to make another girl cry.
He’d been driving for three hours, more or less aimlessly till it was full dark. He knew he shouldn’t be so unsettled - it wasn’t like either of them had said anything they hadn’t said a hundred times before. For that matter, he wasn’t sure why she’d gotten so upset. In the past few months she’d basically been regarding him as a necessary evil. Certainly she never bothered to show anything approaching real emotion, unless you could count pity.
So why had a few barbed words sent her running?
Her face kept flashing in front of him, stricken, angry and unable to deal and he couldn’t help remember the words of that guy from the coffee shop - “she wants you back.”
He realized that somewhere in his musings he’d ended up outside the Mars’ apartment. He heaved a sigh and cursed his subconscious, but pulled over to the side of the road nonetheless.
He fiddled with the stereo for a few minutes before giving up and turning the damn thing off.
“She wants you back.”
He groaned slightly and hit the steering wheel. The last thing he needed was to think of Veronica Mars again.
Images rose unbidden in his head as he remembered the feel of her against him, under him.
He needed to get out of there. He needed to get out of there before he went to her and made an idiot of himself. Make that a bigger idiot of himself. As he went to put the thing in drive he heard a soft tapping on the glass. He looked up, startled, expecting something - trouble of some kind.
What he saw was Veronica Mars looking tiny and fragile as she hugged her oversized coat tightly around herself. It wasn’t that cold outside but you’d never know it from the way she was shivering.
He rolled down the window without thinking. “Yeah?”
“You do know this qualifies as stalking right?”
Her tone was surprisingly light given her words. She didn’t sound accusatory, but rather almost apologetic.
He could feel himself turning red and he looked steadily at the dashboard in front of him. “I’m sorry, you know, about earlier. I wasn’t trying to… I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.” Her words were almost a whisper and he tightened his hands on the steering wheel as he reminded himself that whatever random coffee shop dude thought, Veronica was still in love with his best friend.
“Can I - can I get in for a second?”
He blinked, but unlocked the door, and she climbed into the passenger’s seat silently. He could feel her eyes on him, studying him and he tensed.
“Why is it so hard?” She sounded almost angry, although whether at him, herself or the world he wasn’t certain.
“What do you mean, Veronica?”
She twisted to face him. “I mean between us. Why can’t we just go back to-“
“The way we were? It doesn’t work like that, Veronica. I loved you and you left me for Duncan. You’ve spent the past six months hating my guts. We can’t just pretend to be friends again.”
He could feel her wanting to object, to claim that Duncan had nothing to do with their breakup. She said nothing and he was grateful for her restraint. Minutes passed and he wished he’d left the radio on.
“I did hate you.” The words were muttered. She wasn’t looking at him anymore. “It was easier - easier to handle things if you were the bad guy.”
He’d been waiting for the admission for months but now that it had come all he could think of was how horrible he’d been to her.
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure I was easy to hate.”
“Ah yes, without your help, I don’t know that I would have had it in me.” He could feel her striving for playful as she tried to make the tension dissipate a bit, but he felt the truth behind her words.
“I’m no saint, Veronica.”
“Color me stunned,” she deadpanned, and he knew that was his cue to grin, but he couldn't. Apparently when she wasn't accusing him, he felt it necessary to accuse himself.
”I’m fucked up, all right?”
“It’s okay." Her hand made an abortive move toward his. "Logan? It’s okay.” She looked worried and he berated himself for scaring her. He took a deep breath and forced himself to grin at her as he tweaked a pigtail.
“You won’t say that the next time I bait you about something stupid.”
She brightened, but he was willing to bet she knew he was deliberately lightening the conversation, leading it away from their danger points. “You don’t have to do it you know, you could restrain yourself every once in a blue moon. Take a night off, play poker, watch TV.”
“Yeah well you’re just so easy to bait, what can I say?”
She gasped, a look of mock outrage settling over her features as she smacked him lightly in the arm. “Did you just call me easy?”
He shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips, “Well if the shoe fits-”
“That’s rich, coming from the Manslut of the year.”
“Hey, I worked hard for that title.”
“So they tell me.”
“You could always see for yourself.”
She went to smack him again but he caught her wrist before she connected. The atmosphere shifted as she stared first at his hand over hers then at his face. He could feel her gearing up to make a decision, and he maintained his hold lest she opt to run.
Instead she surged forward, seizing his lips with hers as she leaned over almost on his lap. The hand that wasn’t holding her instinctively went to her waist, pulling her closer to him while his other hand drifted up her arm before settling at the back of the neck.
Her kisses were urgent, desperate, and he felt himself responding in kind, his breath shortening as they plundered each other’s mouths.
It was so damn good. He’d forgotten exactly how good she felt as he tangled his fingers through her hair and pulled her in for another searing kiss.
Her heavy coat had disappeared a while ago and he traced his fingers under her thin tank top, relishing the gasp she made as he moved his way up toward her breast, his thumb stroking lightly over her nipple. Her head fell back as he continued his ministrations and he attached his lips to her neck, trailing wet kisses down her throat as his finger worked over her nipple. He clamped down momentarily and she moaned, grinding herself against him.
“Fuck, Veronica.”
She looked up at him, her eyes heavily lidded, her breath coming out in disjointed gasps, her gaze serious as she deliberately ground herself against him again.
Somehow they made it to the back seat, clothing was flung off, limbs arranged themselves, and then he was inside her and God he’d never thought - it was so good. She was so good.
She pushed up over him, twisting her hips slightly as she slammed back down and he couldn’t stop kissing her. His hand worked its way between her thighs, earning him a breathy moan and a choked out ‘yes’ before he kissed her again.
He was close and he sped his fingers, wanting her to come over with him. Her eyes were glassy and unfocussed and her breath hitched as his fingers tightened one last time and she came. Her muscles clenched around him and he was done, crying out her name before falling back against the seat, utterly spent with barely the energy to pull her against him.
He woke an hour later, cramped and uncomfortable, his skin sticking to the leather seat - and Veronica was curled up against him, her head resting on his chest. He ran his fingers lightly through her hair, careful not to wake her. Her face was set in stern lines when she slept, softened only by the occasional sigh.
He wasn’t sure how long he watched her, probably no more than five minutes before she was burrowing her face in his chest because she didn’t want to move. When they finally reclothed, he pulled her to him, examining her face for signs that this was a rebound thing and catching her doing the same. She grinned, told him he’d better call her and made her farewell.
He drove back to the Grand, noting with pleasure that thoughts of Veronica pretty much trumped all other preoccupations. It was nice to have a drive that was just a drive for once.
As he made his way through the lobby, he caught sight of the guy from the coffee shop, chatting with some woman in the hotel bar. He went up to him.
“Hey, man, I wanted to thank you, for before.”
The man smiled broadly.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s my job.”
Author: ladydisdain225
Character/Pairing: Logan/Veronica
Rating: Hard R
Word count: 6724
Summary: Logan and Veronica get a visit from Cupid. Crossover with Cupid
Spoilers: Through VM 2x13, general series spoilers for Cupid
Author’s note: Cupid was a short lived series created by Rob Thomas that featured Jeremy Piven and Paula Marshall (Also known as Becky James, Neptune High’s Councilor). Jeremy played Trevor Hale, a man convinced he was Cupid. Trevor believes himself exiled from Olympus until he can unite 100 couples. Paula played Claire Allen, his psychologist. That’s really all you need to know for the purposes of this fic. Thanks to shizam23 and queen_haq for their mad beta skills.
The door slammed open, skittering against the much abused doorstop and swinging back violently toward the visitor.
“Go away, Trevor.”
Claire made another careful note in the file in front of her. She didn’t have to look up. She knew exactly one person with such blatant disregard for propriety, or her privacy, or, well, anything actually. Trevor Hale.
When she did finally glance at him, he looked like he hadn’t slept for days. He was still cheerful, still annoying, but he looked tired - drawn.
“Nice attitude. Charming, really. Tell, me, do you treat all your patients with such compassion or am I special.”
“I’m, sorry, all the patients who burst into my office without an appointment or even knocking? Yes, yes I do.”
It was too early for her to deal with Trevor. Of course, it didn’t really matter what time of day it was, it would always be too early to deal with Trevor. Today? With a splitting headache and the O’Malleys’ endless bickering to look forward to at three, she really, really didn’t have the time or patience required.
He made his way around to her side of the desk, oblivious to her internal monologue as he came to stand next to her. He was a tad too close. It was part of his nature; he was always a tiny bit too close.
“Whatever. Look, I just wanted to give you the heads up; I’m not going to be at your group shindig this week so don’t call out the dogs or anything.”
She looked up sharply at that.
“What do you -”
“Now, I know, it’s going to be hard without me, but I jotted down a few ideas just to help you keep the ball rolling.” He slammed a scribbled list down in front of her, leaning over her to read from it. They were going to have to have a talk about personal space soon. “I realize that the last place is a strip joint, but I figure if you hit there first, every guy in the group is going to be so anxious to get laid you’ll double the hookups at the other places.”
“You honestly -”
“I know what you’re thinking: ‘what about the girls’ right?” He beamed at her and Claire clasped her hands tightly in front of her in an effort to keep from strangling him. “Not a problem, see you send them to the first club on their own. Boredom and insecurity works as well on women as exotic dancers do on men. Trust me.”
“Oh for the -”
“Too much? Is that too much? ‘Cause I’m telling you, you want results you have to think outside the box a bit.”
“Trevor-“
“No, you’re right. The box is good. What was I thinking? Fun, alcohol, nudity, that’ll never work - instead let’s all sit around in stiff-backed chairs in a boring room and talk about our feelings.”
“Trevor!” She stood abruptly, bracing herself against cool wood of her desk. He blinked at her and opened his mouth to continue.
“First of all,” she said quickly, lest he launch another verbal assault that would have him there all afternoon, “I will not be taking the group to a strip joint. Secondly, as we have discussed before, you are legally obligated to attend those group sessions. And lastly, would you please just, just... sit down over there for a minute?” She indicated the chairs on the other side of her desk. “And… and be quiet. Please? Thank you.”
She took her seat again with as much dignity as she could muster, carefully closing and storing the Anderson file before returning her attention to Trevor, who, like the overeager puppy he so frequently resembled, was practically bouncing out of his seat. He looked anxious and she wasn’t sure whether to be worried or to roll her eyes. Her headache was getting worse if possible.
“Can I talk now?”
“That depends, are we still on the subject of strip joints?”
“Only if you want to be.” She glared, but noted that the remark was almost automatic; there was no real awareness there. Something - presumably whatever was driving him away from class - had him preoccupied. Claire realized with a start that he’d begun to talk while she was musing and she forced herself to pay attention. “-way, you know I love our little get-togethers. Highlight of my week. This has nothing to do with me falling asleep last time, honest.”
She sighed. Why couldn’t he even just once make things easy? Just once.
“Trevor, you know those meetings are one of the conditions for your release. You can’t just skip out on them because you don’t feel like it. Unless you can produce a physician’s note, you’re going, end of story.”
“What are you my teacher? Provide a note.” He muttered that last to himself as he stood again, annoyance marking his usually agreeable face. “The simple fact is that I have to go out of town tomorrow. Urgent business, can’t be delayed, so sorry, I’m just not going to be able to make the party.”
“Business.” She smiled tightly at him. “Taggerty’s has you traveling now does it? I didn’t realize that bartending was the sort of job the required a decent frequent flier package.”
“You’d be surprised, but no, it’s not Taggerty’s.”
“Oh, so this is official Cupid ‘business’? What, you’ve given up on matching people in Chicago? Are we too cynical now? Or is this like a matchmaker’s convention? What about guest lecturers? Will they be confined to the Greco-Roman deities or is there a chance that Freya or Ishtar will make an appearance?”
“You know, I should have just gone without saying anything. Filled you in afterwards.”
He turned to leave and despite the fact that she really didn’t want to know, despite the fact that she was probably better off not knowing what wild goose chase he was currently on, she called after him:
“What, Trevor? What is so important that it can’t wait till Wednesday?”
He looked serious. It was an unnatural look for him
“My job. My real job. It’s not something I can pick up or put down at a moments notice, okay?” He tossed a magazine that she hadn’t noticed him carrying down on the desk in front of her.
She stared at it a moment, not comprehending.
“That’s a tabloid.”
He shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”
“But that’s a tabloid.”
“Look, I just go where I’m needed.”
“Really? Because the last I heard, Brad and Angelina were doing just fine.”
She picked up the copy of the Instigator. Its paper was cheap, both thin and gritty and she had a suspicion that the inferior newsprint was just waiting to attach itself to her fingers or the cuffs of her shirt. She felt like washing her hands.
“Well, actually those two have got - you know what? That’s not the point.” He leaned forward, finger stabbing at the cover in her hands, bending it back. It would have torn if she hadn’t let go. “Not them. Him.”
“Logan Echolls.” She looked up at him in astonishment. “You need to match Logan Echolls?”
*****
Logan had taken to driving at night. The suite was too quiet, too empty. The sterile opulence that never let him forget it was a hotel was suddenly stifling.
He’d tried drinking, but while there was the ultimate promise of oblivion, it took too long to get there. And the route to unconsciousness led far too often to morose introspection first. To bleary thoughts of all he’d lost or never had to begin with.
Lilly. Duncan. His mom. Veronica. Aaron.
The last killed him. Most of the time he could simply hate the bastard for the scum he was, but every now and then, with the help of enough alcohol, he’d slip, and instead of being the son-of-a-bitch who killed the love of his life, he was the dad who hadn’t cared enough about him to keep his hands off his girlfriend.
He didn’t drink much anymore.
Instead he drove aimlessly around Neptune, semi-consciously seeking out the streets where the name on the mailbox was more likely to be Rodriguez than Smith.
He was jumped once getting gas. Four or five of them, and the funny thing was that they didn’t even seem to be PCHers. He carried himself home four hours later, battered and bruised, blood streaking his clothing, staining the pristine sheets as he collapsed on the bed.
He’d been tempted to make that station a permanent part of his route, but instead he cut it out entirely. He wasn’t there yet, wherever there was.
So he drove.
It wasn’t usually enough to keep the what-ifs away, but it was generally enough so he could filter them a little. Instead of crying about Aaron he could miss Duncan. Instead of brooding about Lilly he could worry about Hannah.
Hannah.
It was easier when she hadn’t had a name. When she was just a faceless idea - a way to get at that fucker of a doctor, to get information, anything.
But Hannah was sweet - naïve really - and he tried to look down on her as just another sophomore girl who giggled too much and couldn’t keep eye contact without blushing. She looked at him without seeing a villain and he wondered if maybe Veronica was right and he was irredeemable because he was going to hurt this girl and not enough of him cared.
He didn’t want Veronica to be right for the simple reason that it made hating her extremely hard.
And when he didn’t hate her, he remembered lips on skin, a small hand clutching tightly at his, blonde hair brushing against his chest. The way her eyes would flash when she got pissed at him or gleam when she had a particularly good comeback.
Funny how Veronica was the one thing he never seemed able to filter out.
*****
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid that I’m still not fully grasping this.”
Trevor groaned and leaned back further in his chair, pushing off against her desk. She winced and then glared at him but he didn’t seem to notice.
“I’ll break it down as simply as possible. Me Cupid. Him single. I set him up, and I’m one couple closer to that magic hundred and everyone goes home happy. Although depending on how hot she is, he’ll probably be the happiest. Oh, what am I saying? He’ll definitely be the happiest.”
Pointedly ignoring that last comment she repeated the central question. “Yes, I understand your ‘mission’ Trevor, what I don’t understand is why you have to go to California to set up Aaron Echolls’ son.”
The Echolls family was about as notorious as you could get these days. Hollywood’s tragedy family, with more suicides, scandals, and arrests in one year than should be physically possible. They weren’t exactly what came to mind when one thought of true love.
Trevor had to know their family history. Even if he’d been living on a rock, he had to know it. He continued, however, blithely and disingenuously, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Well, I don’t think it’s fair to make him fly to Chicago, just so it’ll be convenient for me.”
The day had already dragged on for a painfully long time despite the fact that she’d been in the office for no more than half an hour. She glared at her empty coffee cup as though it had injured her, but didn’t dare risk calling Jaclyn to bring them more. The last thing she needed was a caffeinated Trevor Hale.
He continued urgently, “Look, I don’t know why it’s him. I’ve explained before. Sometimes I just get a feeling and-”
“And you know a pair of perfect strangers are destined to be together,” she interrupted. “Right, I know that. But you’re telling me this works on photographs?”
“I don’t know - apparently!” Trevor almost sounded bewildered. Since his usual approach to his delusion was one of deep seated knowledge, she almost felt encouraged. He frowned. “I don’t know the rules down here. My method was simple and depended almost entirely on my archery skills. I don’t have a plan. All I know is that I’m getting that feeling about this kid and it’s not the kind of thing you can ignore.”
“So you need to go to California.”
“I need to go to California.”
*****
Three weeks after Duncan left, Veronica started to pull extra shifts at The Hut. A month after that she was practically working full time, alternating between school, work, and sleep with little else to fill out the remaining pockets of time.
It meant she’d all but stopped working for her dad, but he preferred that anyway, and took no pains to hide it.
The key difference between long hours at The Hut and long hours on a stakeout was that at least the boredom at The Hut was of the mind numbing variety. Hours spent in her LeBaron with nothing to do but wait for the money shot left far too much room for regrets, too much room for boys she couldn’t afford to think about anymore.
She preferred the numbness, even if it did come with an unflattering satin vest.
It wasn’t that she regretted helping Duncan. It had been the right thing to do, and she knew it - one of the few things she’d done recently that she could be unequivocally proud of. And hey, it let him be with his daughter; that was the important thing. She refused to be jealous of a three month old baby.
The first week after he’d left, she’d decided that it wasn’t as hard to lose Duncan as she’d expected. After all, they were never going to last forever anyway, what couples did? Better that he’d left her sooner rather than later when she might have been naive enough to think they had a future. He’d probably saved her just in time. Much longer and it might have actually hurt.
Love didn’t last. She knew that. She’d spent the past six months trying to ignore that fact, but there it was. She was always going to lose him. At least this way, it was on her own terms.
She repeated that over and over again for two weeks until she almost had herself believing it. Till the ache inside dulled to a minor twinge and she thought of Duncan only every other day instead of every five minutes.
But instead of freeing her to actually move on with her life, her mind seemed to have substituted one boy for another. Instead of moping about Duncan, she was worrying about Logan. Wondering if how he was coping without his friend, hoping he didn’t get into more trouble, knowing that hope was useless.
He’d been skipping classes more and more and she wanted to shake him for being such an idiot, but she couldn’t talk to Logan any more. He didn’t want to see her and she wasn’t sure she could face seeing him. Because seeing him led to memories. Hurled words and broken headlights, fingers in her hair, his forehead resting against hers. The broken look in his eyes that scared her more than his insults ever did.
She waited tables rather than be alone with her thoughts. The last thing she needed was to remember.
*****
The place was dark, the minimal lighting casting a blueish tinge over the sprawling chairs and couches. A perky brunette greeted them and led them to a table in a corner, assuring them their server would be right with them and wishing them a ‘super wonderful day’ with the kind of earnest pep that suggested the sentiment was more personal conviction than restaurant policy.
Trevor had been like a four year old on the plane, playing with his seat, the tray, calling the stewardesses over every five minutes to chat before turning in his seat and doing his best to unite Joanne Renolds, kindergarten teacher with Mark Black, computer sales rep.
Claire stared at the menu, her brows knit thoughtfully. Joanne and Mark had exchanged numbers before getting off the plane. Whatever his delusions, the man no uncertain knack for pairing people. Not that it made him any easier to deal with on a day to day basis.
“What are we doing here?” Trevor whispered as soon as they were seated. He’d gotten more and more anxious the closer they got to Neptune, like he was fighting some unknown deadline, and every delay made him nervous - and consequently, harder to deal with.
“I am getting coffee. You are annoying me.”
“I’m annoying you? I’m not the one who shoehorned herself into somebody else’s trip.”
“For the last time, I am not trying to shoehorn myself in. You are, ultimately, my responsibility, Trevor, okay? My job relies on you not doing any damage to yourself or others for the sake of your delusion. Since you insisted on pursuing this matter, I simply thought it would be prudent to come along, given the sensitive nature of the subject involved-”
“Sensitive nature?” Trevor snorted dismissively. “He’s an eighteen year old boy. He probably doesn’t understand the meaning of the word.”
Claire frowned. She wasn’t sure she was going to be able to handle several days of Trevor with no one to run interference for her.
“He’s an eighteen year old boy whose mom recently killed herself and whose dad is on trial for killing his girlfriend after first sleeping with her. You wouldn’t consider that sensitive?”
“No, you’re right. And you know what, I’m going to phrase it exactly like that when I talk to him. That’s a hell of a bedside manner you’ve got there.”
“Trevor.”
“Dr. Allen.”
“Trevor.”
“Dr. Allen.”
She sighed. “From everything I can tell Logan Echolls is a very unstable and unhappy young man, and honestly, who could blame him?”
“And what better way to make someone happy then finding their love?”
“See this is exactly the sort of cavalier attitude I was afraid of. This boy is fragile, Trevor. He’s experienced some very real trauma in the last year and that’s not the sort of thing you can simply discount.”
“I’m not discounting it; I’m just saying it doesn’t matter.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake-”
“Are you guys ready to order?”
Claire jumped slightly, turning in surprise. Their server was a petite blonde, whose smile, unlike her coworker’s, didn’t quite meet her eyes. She regarded them coolly, almost judgmentally from behind the manufactured smile. Startled and somewhat taken aback, Claire was momentarily unable to think of her order, which, unfortunately, gave Trevor the opportunity to jump in.
“What would you recommend,” he peered at her nametag, “Veronica?”
She rattled off the specials promptly and professionally and again with that slightly false cheerfulness, while those keen eyes raked them over and Claire wondered exactly it was she was suspicious of.
If Trevor found the girl’s attitude off-putting however, he showed no sign of it. He chatted merrily although the girl was never fully drawn into the conversation, simply answering his questions perfunctorily without further contributions.
When Claire was finally able to interrupt the constant stream of babble to ask for her latte, the girl seized the opportunity to break away, murmuring that she’d have it out shortly.
Trevor watched her head back to the counter with an unusually pleased expression on his face and she couldn’t help asking him what had him so excited.
He turned to her, still grinning broadly, as he explained. “She’s the one.”
“The one?” she asked blankly.
“The girl for Logan. I’d been wondering - you know it’s far harder to match-make when you don’t actually have a match available, but the second she introduced herself, I knew.”
Something was bothering her about their waitress and she refused to believe that it was simply that the girl wasn’t cheerful. She studied the girl as she prepared her latte and tried to think what it was but it wasn’t until Trevor mentioned her name - Veronica - again that it hit her.
“Oh my God, that’s Veronica Mars.”
“While I’m thrilled you’re finally addressing me properly, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She refused to be distracted. “The girl, our server, she’s Veronica Mars.”
“I like the name; Pops would be thrilled, really, but it’s still not ringing any bells.”
Claire turned to him exasperation. “The girl that Aaron Echolls attacked last spring? The prime witness against him in his upcoming trial? That’s her. And if I’m remembering correctly, she was actually dating Logan Echolls at the time of the attack and even for a short while afterwards.”
Trevor looked mildly stunned, and she reveled a bit in being able to surprise him for once. He certainly spent enough time making sure she was off balance; it felt good to return the favor.
He was still silent when Veronica came back and if the girl had looked suspicious of them before she was doubly so now, and after a minute Claire realized that Veronica could tell she’d been recognized. The child was bracing herself for some sort of comment and looked palpably relieved when Claire accepted her drink with a simple ‘thank you’, seizing the opportunity to slip away from them before Trevor could recover his powers of speech.
Claire took a sip of her latte, which was perfect - she mentally added a few more points in Veronica’s favor, as anyone who could make such a latte was clearly a force for good - and considered that the girl’s attitude made a lot more sense given this new information.
She’d read enough articles on the Echolls case to get a decent idea of the girl’s profile - broken home, ostracized from her peers, and a father who treated her more like an adult than like a developing and insecure adolescent. Add to that the distress of her ordeal with Aaron Echolls and the intense media scrutiny that followed and was a wonder she hadn’t shut down completely.
Trevor was talking again, and she directed herself to pay attention.
“Okay, so they have a prior relationship. That makes things even easier. They wanted each other once, but circumstances drove them apart, until, in the last five minutes of the movie, they find each other again! It’s a classic. It’ll run forever. Bring your tissues, cause it’s that touching.”
“Are you done?”
“Not really, no. You realize how perfect this is? I get him here, get them both talking, they reminisce. It’s ideal.”
She set her drink down and attempted to convey the seriousness of the situation. “Trevor, for once in your life could you just think things through? This girl is ultimately responsible for putting Logan’s father away for murder. Whether he knowingly blames her or not, that’s not the kind of thing people can just work through.”
Trevor shrugged. “They still love each other.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes. I do. I told you. I had a feeling.” Their greatest fear had always been that Trevor’s obsession with matchmaking would keep him from considering the interests of the people around him, and she was suddenly frightened that he was crossing that line. She cast about for another approach.
“Okay, you know what? Let’s say for a second that they do still love each other. That doesn’t change anything, Trevor. There’s only so much stress a relationship can take and those two have had more stress in the past year than anyone should have to face in a lifetime. An attempt at reconciliation at this juncture would likely be extremely painful.”
“Love is pain, baby.”
“You’re not listening. What you propose is only going to get these two hurt.”
“You’re wrong, Claire. And I’ll prove it to you. Yes. Love can hurt, but that’s not a reason not to experience it. I’m telling you, those two are hurting separately already. And just maybe if they get back together, they’ll start to heal.”
This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea, but outside of hospitalizing him there wasn’t exactly anything she could do. She missed Champ - she needed somebody with the ability to corral Trevor.
Looking blindly around for some sort of inspiration her eye caught some movement towards the hostess’s table.
“Well, it looks like you’ve got your chance.”
“What?”
“Logan Echolls just walked in the front door.”
*****
He should have suggested Starbucks. He should have asked for a rain check. He should have said he was washing his hair. He should have done anything else rather than agree to meet Hannah at Java The Hut.
He’d known, instinctively, that she’d be working there. He didn’t know her hours anymore, but it didn’t matter. She’d be there. And while a part of him almost relished the idea of parading Hannah in front of her, the rest of him balked at the thought. He didn’t know if he could bear more of her open scorn. If he was honest with himself he wasn’t sure he could handle a hurt look either.
He asked the hostess, as discretely as possible, not to be put in Veronica’s section. It probably wouldn’t do him a lot of good, but at least that way they could avoid direct contact.
Hannah wasn’t there yet. He took his seat in the overstuffed armchair and accepted the proffered menu, even though he’d memorized its contents months ago.
He could see her moving out of the corner of his eye, and part of him wanted to turn away completely, refuse to let her take up any of his focus, the rest hardly dared to breathe lest he lose that ephemeral contact.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” The guy sat down without waiting for an answer, forcing Logan to lose sight of Veronica as he turned to yell at him.
“Yeah, actually I do.”
“Trevor Hale.”
“Funny, I don’t remember asking.”
The man leaned back in his chair - Hannah’s chair. “I’ll be quick. You’ll hardly know I’m here, promise.”
“Look, dude, whatever you’re selling I can already get elsewhere, okay? So just f-“
“You love her, right?”
That got his attention. “What the hell?”
“The waitress, the blonde. Veronica.”
He snorted softly. “What are you, her pimp?”
“Cute.” The man grinned, neither offended nor amused. “I’m here to help you out, man.”
“Yeah, that’s great, dude, really, but I’m actually kinda meeting someone.”
The guy leaned forward suddenly serious, and this was weirding him the fuck out. “Look, you want her back, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Please. Your eye hasn’t stopped following her since you entered.”
Logan colored slightly at that. He hadn’t thought he’d been that obvious. He glanced at Veronica again. Had she noticed? The guy’s grin got broader, like who the hell did he think he was anyway.
“Yeah, so my eyes are open. You got a point?”
“My point, you idiot, is that she wants you back too.”
Involuntarily, his eyes went to Veronica again.
“And you know that how, exactly?”
“Well, I actually have the inside scoop on the whole thing, but if you want your proof, try the fact that she’s been looking over at you more or less constantly.” The guy stood, walking backward as he called in a slightly too loud tone. “Do us all a favor and tell her.” He then turned and left.
What the hell?
*****
Veronica leaned against the wall of the storage room that doubled as the employee break room. Bad enough that Logan Echolls violated the sanctity of her workplace for what she was queasily certain was going to wind up being his Valentine’s date, but now Karen was begging off sick - where sick could loosely be translated as “I’m going to hang out with my boyfriend. Suck it up, single girl.” - and she was going to have to cover her tables. Her tables, which happened to include the one that Logan was sitting at.
She wondered idly if she’d angered the gods, because there was no way this wasn’t punishment for some unnamed crime.
It was really a shame that she couldn’t hide in the closet forever, but she couldn’t exactly afford to be fired. Plus there was a draft coming in from somewhere and she didn’t have anywhere to sit down.
With a sigh she stepped out of the break room, plastering a smile on her face before heading over to Logan’s table.
“Are you ready to order?”
For a second, he didn’t say anything, just regarded her with a fixed gaze, and she couldn’t help feeling suddenly nervous. She quashed that firmly and let her ‘customer smile’ fade.
“Logan? Sometime today?”
His expression darkened as he glared at her, “What’s the matter Mars? Customer service too difficult a concept for you?”
“Apparently as difficult as reading a menu is for you. How’s that coming? You need me to help you with the big words?”
He smirked and she couldn’t tell whether he was amused or furious. She wondered wildly why she even cared.
“You know what, Veronica, I think I’ll wait. My date hasn’t shown up yet, wouldn’t want to order without her.”
“I’m sure she’ll be along as soon as she finds a sitter for the kids.”
“Aw. Bitter you couldn’t even keep your boyfriend in the country?”
She couldn’t help it, she flinched and his smile widened fractionally. She could see him gearing up to press his advantage further and suddenly she couldn’t be in the same room as him, couldn’t stand to hear the accusations that were bound to come forth, to see that bitter look come in his eyes.
“You know, what, I can’t do this. I can’t -”
She stumbled back, calling to Lisa that she had a sudden migraine, and she hated to leave her in the lurch like this, but she needed to go home.
She felt him following her as she ran to the parking lot, but she didn’t stop.
The gods were definitely punishing her.
*****
Claire sighed as she watched the two go from civil to upset in less than thirty seconds. She turned to Trevor, who’d been keeping a running commentary along the lines of “Tell her how you feel now, you dimwit.” And “Don’t let her leave! Kiss her if you have to.” He looked tired.
“Well, Trevor, that went brilliantly.” She couldn’t help feeling a little smug. “I don’t know what I was worried about.”
“That boy is an idiot,” muttered Trevor as he watched the kid wander back in after trying to catch the girl he had just driven away.
“He’s eighteen. That pretty much goes with the territory. Now have we done enough damage, or is there anyone else you want to make cry?”
“Of course we’re not done. They’re not together, so I’m not done.”
“Trevor, you can’t just make people reconcile.”
“I used to be able to.”
“Fine, you used to. But in case you've forgotten, we aren’t on Olympus, you don’t have your magic bow, and in real life, people don’t just work through their differences because you want them to.”
“It’ll be fine. I just need another plan.”
“Trevor, just, let it go - please? For once could you let these people decide on their own?”
“They love each other,” he insisted.
She smiled sadly. “That’s not always enough.”
*****
He’d wound up canceling on Hannah. He could hear the edge of tears in her voice even as she’d brightly accepted his words, telling him that of course she understood and she hoped he felt better soon. He kept the call short, the last thing he’d needed was to make another girl cry.
He’d been driving for three hours, more or less aimlessly till it was full dark. He knew he shouldn’t be so unsettled - it wasn’t like either of them had said anything they hadn’t said a hundred times before. For that matter, he wasn’t sure why she’d gotten so upset. In the past few months she’d basically been regarding him as a necessary evil. Certainly she never bothered to show anything approaching real emotion, unless you could count pity.
So why had a few barbed words sent her running?
Her face kept flashing in front of him, stricken, angry and unable to deal and he couldn’t help remember the words of that guy from the coffee shop - “she wants you back.”
He realized that somewhere in his musings he’d ended up outside the Mars’ apartment. He heaved a sigh and cursed his subconscious, but pulled over to the side of the road nonetheless.
He fiddled with the stereo for a few minutes before giving up and turning the damn thing off.
“She wants you back.”
He groaned slightly and hit the steering wheel. The last thing he needed was to think of Veronica Mars again.
Images rose unbidden in his head as he remembered the feel of her against him, under him.
He needed to get out of there. He needed to get out of there before he went to her and made an idiot of himself. Make that a bigger idiot of himself. As he went to put the thing in drive he heard a soft tapping on the glass. He looked up, startled, expecting something - trouble of some kind.
What he saw was Veronica Mars looking tiny and fragile as she hugged her oversized coat tightly around herself. It wasn’t that cold outside but you’d never know it from the way she was shivering.
He rolled down the window without thinking. “Yeah?”
“You do know this qualifies as stalking right?”
Her tone was surprisingly light given her words. She didn’t sound accusatory, but rather almost apologetic.
He could feel himself turning red and he looked steadily at the dashboard in front of him. “I’m sorry, you know, about earlier. I wasn’t trying to… I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too.” Her words were almost a whisper and he tightened his hands on the steering wheel as he reminded himself that whatever random coffee shop dude thought, Veronica was still in love with his best friend.
“Can I - can I get in for a second?”
He blinked, but unlocked the door, and she climbed into the passenger’s seat silently. He could feel her eyes on him, studying him and he tensed.
“Why is it so hard?” She sounded almost angry, although whether at him, herself or the world he wasn’t certain.
“What do you mean, Veronica?”
She twisted to face him. “I mean between us. Why can’t we just go back to-“
“The way we were? It doesn’t work like that, Veronica. I loved you and you left me for Duncan. You’ve spent the past six months hating my guts. We can’t just pretend to be friends again.”
He could feel her wanting to object, to claim that Duncan had nothing to do with their breakup. She said nothing and he was grateful for her restraint. Minutes passed and he wished he’d left the radio on.
“I did hate you.” The words were muttered. She wasn’t looking at him anymore. “It was easier - easier to handle things if you were the bad guy.”
He’d been waiting for the admission for months but now that it had come all he could think of was how horrible he’d been to her.
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure I was easy to hate.”
“Ah yes, without your help, I don’t know that I would have had it in me.” He could feel her striving for playful as she tried to make the tension dissipate a bit, but he felt the truth behind her words.
“I’m no saint, Veronica.”
“Color me stunned,” she deadpanned, and he knew that was his cue to grin, but he couldn't. Apparently when she wasn't accusing him, he felt it necessary to accuse himself.
”I’m fucked up, all right?”
“It’s okay." Her hand made an abortive move toward his. "Logan? It’s okay.” She looked worried and he berated himself for scaring her. He took a deep breath and forced himself to grin at her as he tweaked a pigtail.
“You won’t say that the next time I bait you about something stupid.”
She brightened, but he was willing to bet she knew he was deliberately lightening the conversation, leading it away from their danger points. “You don’t have to do it you know, you could restrain yourself every once in a blue moon. Take a night off, play poker, watch TV.”
“Yeah well you’re just so easy to bait, what can I say?”
She gasped, a look of mock outrage settling over her features as she smacked him lightly in the arm. “Did you just call me easy?”
He shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips, “Well if the shoe fits-”
“That’s rich, coming from the Manslut of the year.”
“Hey, I worked hard for that title.”
“So they tell me.”
“You could always see for yourself.”
She went to smack him again but he caught her wrist before she connected. The atmosphere shifted as she stared first at his hand over hers then at his face. He could feel her gearing up to make a decision, and he maintained his hold lest she opt to run.
Instead she surged forward, seizing his lips with hers as she leaned over almost on his lap. The hand that wasn’t holding her instinctively went to her waist, pulling her closer to him while his other hand drifted up her arm before settling at the back of the neck.
Her kisses were urgent, desperate, and he felt himself responding in kind, his breath shortening as they plundered each other’s mouths.
It was so damn good. He’d forgotten exactly how good she felt as he tangled his fingers through her hair and pulled her in for another searing kiss.
Her heavy coat had disappeared a while ago and he traced his fingers under her thin tank top, relishing the gasp she made as he moved his way up toward her breast, his thumb stroking lightly over her nipple. Her head fell back as he continued his ministrations and he attached his lips to her neck, trailing wet kisses down her throat as his finger worked over her nipple. He clamped down momentarily and she moaned, grinding herself against him.
“Fuck, Veronica.”
She looked up at him, her eyes heavily lidded, her breath coming out in disjointed gasps, her gaze serious as she deliberately ground herself against him again.
Somehow they made it to the back seat, clothing was flung off, limbs arranged themselves, and then he was inside her and God he’d never thought - it was so good. She was so good.
She pushed up over him, twisting her hips slightly as she slammed back down and he couldn’t stop kissing her. His hand worked its way between her thighs, earning him a breathy moan and a choked out ‘yes’ before he kissed her again.
He was close and he sped his fingers, wanting her to come over with him. Her eyes were glassy and unfocussed and her breath hitched as his fingers tightened one last time and she came. Her muscles clenched around him and he was done, crying out her name before falling back against the seat, utterly spent with barely the energy to pull her against him.
He woke an hour later, cramped and uncomfortable, his skin sticking to the leather seat - and Veronica was curled up against him, her head resting on his chest. He ran his fingers lightly through her hair, careful not to wake her. Her face was set in stern lines when she slept, softened only by the occasional sigh.
He wasn’t sure how long he watched her, probably no more than five minutes before she was burrowing her face in his chest because she didn’t want to move. When they finally reclothed, he pulled her to him, examining her face for signs that this was a rebound thing and catching her doing the same. She grinned, told him he’d better call her and made her farewell.
He drove back to the Grand, noting with pleasure that thoughts of Veronica pretty much trumped all other preoccupations. It was nice to have a drive that was just a drive for once.
As he made his way through the lobby, he caught sight of the guy from the coffee shop, chatting with some woman in the hotel bar. He went up to him.
“Hey, man, I wanted to thank you, for before.”
The man smiled broadly.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s my job.”