I meant to get this put together properly yesterday but the sudden urge to sleep most of the day and part of the evening took over, so here it is, part two of my newest fic, Aftermath.
Rating: PG-13 for now
Spoilers: Up to Weapons of Class Destruction (ep 1.18)
Summary: What happens when Veronica finally decides to speak to Logan about what happened?
Feedback: Please 🙂
She was becoming the Queen of Avoidance City. Every time she saw Logan heading in her direction she would find an excuse to walk the other way.
She could see that Wallace was curious, and if it weren’t for the fact she knew Wallace had a distinct dislike for Logan, she might well tell him what happened. As it was, she had no one to confide in but the cold screen of her computer, and that was unsatisfactory when what she really needed was someone telling her that she wasn’t insane, that what had happened was a glitch, a mere blip on the insanity radar.
If he keeps on looking at me then I might well have to… she paused in her typing to take a swig from the steaming cup of coffee beside the keyboard, she then held her finger over the delete key and deleted the sentence. The last thing she needed right now was to think about that kiss again. She was trying to forget about that, not reminisce about it.
Looking at the clock she groaned, it was nearly 2am and she had classes in the morning. She had been procrastinating over completing an assignment, but right now she wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and pull the covers up over her head, and perhaps sleep away the next few uncomfortable weeks. That was how long she had given it to blow over. She was sure that all they both needed was some distance.
Dropping down onto her bed, pulling the cold covers over her heated skin, Veronica rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, images of Logan as his face had moved closer, the intense look in his eyes as he had kissed her, filling her mind. It was a long time before she drifted into a disturbed, dream-filled sleep.
It had been two days since the kiss but still, walking into the journalism classroom was probably the hardest thing that Veronica had had to do. She knew that Logan was in there, she had been watching as everyone entered the room, wondering if perhaps she shouldn’t just ditch the class and do a bit of snooping. Perhaps she should go and see what she could find out about Duncan’s disappearance, anything rather than face the one person she was currently trying to avoid like the plague.
The way he was staring at her, the half-smile on his face, made Veronica feel as though he were seeing right through her. She kept on trying to ignore him, but every once in a while she was drawn to him, watching his hands as he twirled a pencil, chatting with the person sitting behind him.
She turned her back on the rest of the students in the class and focused intently on the text appearing on her screen as she typed in the newest in a series of possibly scandal-provoking articles. She was absolutely desperate to ignore the fact that she wasn’t alone, that he was less than 2 metres away from her. She hated feeling uneasy, and hated even more that it was Logan making her feel this way. If he even had an inkling of an idea that he could make her feel so unsure of herself she was sure that she would never hear the end of it.
“We need to talk…” he said the words as he walked past her to leave the classroom, placing his hand on her shoulder briefly, brushing her hair away from the back of her neck, but he hadn’t even paused, just said the words and left. Even though she had known that the time would come at some point, the words sent a shiver down her spine; caused her stomach to churn uncomfortably.
It was nearly seven when Veronica finally pulled up outside the Echolls’ mansion, her hands were shaking and she hadn’t been able to eat a thing. Normally she thrived on confrontation, enjoying telling people what she had learned, but right now this was the last place she wanted to be. Doing a post mortem on something when she hadn’t had the chance to figure out the why or how just didn’t add up to fun.
Logan was playing a game on his computer, seemingly 100% involved in whatever was happening on the widescreen TV. An open bottle of vodka was on the floor beside his chair and it was easy to see that he had already had a few glasses. A deck of playing cards were open and laid out on the card table as though he was expecting some friends over for one of his famous games later, she couldn’t help but wonder which movie hunk of the week would be the latest target for Logan’s card shark act.
“So,” she stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, and a faint grin on her face – desperate to hide her minor anxiety, “I’m here. You wanted to talk…”
Logan hadn’t been completely honest. He didn’t actually think they needed to talk, to go over and over what had happened at the Camelot until it made sense to both of them. He knew what had happened. He had kissed Veronica Mars. A few days of going over and over the incident in his head had made it apparent that he had wanted that kiss. It’s possible he had wanted it for quite a while, and while that may seem completely left of centre, he knew that he was going to kiss her again.
Smirking in a way that reminded Veronica of the boy Logan used to be, before Lilly had been murdered and she had been ostracised, he dropped the gamepad in his hands and stood up, walking over to stand in front of her. “Talking is overrated,” he mumbled even as he lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers.
Veronica opened her mouth to protest, but whatever she might have said was lost to a sigh as Logan’s tongue brushed against hers, his hands curling around her hips even as she moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.