|||||Matt Nathanson - Laid||]|
Disclaimer: I do not own Veronica Mars or any of its characters
Summary: Veronica. Logan. Almost sex.
Author’s Note: I’ve been wanting to write VM for a long time. With the shipper moment in ‘Weapons of Class Destruction,’ I felt it was time to get on with my lazy butt and write a darn fic. It’ll get steamier next time. Promise. So the summary stays. Eh, I totally felt the V/L.
This bed is on fire with passionate love
The neighbors complain about the noises above
But she only comes when she’s on top
Veronica Mars scanned the parking lot for a can’t-miss-it yellow Nissan. Seeing none, she walked (nearly) haughtily up the steps of Neptune High and approached another day at school.
She waved to Mac, who returned her laptop, and Wallace, being semi-carried by his fellow basketball players.
Feeling calmer by the minute, Veronica walked into her American History classroom more confident and cool than ever.
By the time she arrived in her Journalism classroom, Veronica had even had an (almost) happy conversation with Meg about the other girl’s missing boyfriend. She wouldn’t be referring him to Duncan. No, definitely not.
Walking with an extra perk in her step, Veronica didn’t even notice as she sat down that Logan Echolls was across the room staring at her tiny blonde head.
Headphones in her ears and with her iPod mini on shuffle, Veronica quickly went to work on her latest article; hopefully this written piece didn’t get the next substitute fired. In any case, she didn’t pay any attention to the surrounding area of the classroom.
As the bell rung, Veronica had just tossed her items into her messenger bag and walked out the door when suddenly a pair of lips was on her and she was being furiously kissed. By Logan Echolls. Again.
With his tongue in her mouth and hands in her hair and her bag slightly digging into her back, Veronica hit her head on the trophy case and gasped for needed air.
“What. The. Hell.”
Grinning sheepishly, Logan put his hands in his pockets and twiddled his thumbs about eagerly.
And then, “Don’t worry; no one saw us.”
And of course, he was right. They were hidden in the small alcove between a classroom and the trophies.
Then the bell rang. Shit, I have photography. Ah, well. Let’s go Emeril and kick this up another notch, shall we?
A smirk slowly found its way to Veronica’s lips before she looked up at Logan, hopefully not too cheekily for her own sake.
“What do you say we ditch? It’ll be just like old times.”
Except it wouldn’t, with Duncan missing and Lilly dead. But even she knew that Logan had more sense then to say anything.
He only nodded, taking her small hand into his as he led her out to his car, parked behind the football stands.
They found themselves at the door of his home, a place Veronica had been many times, but never alone. If alone meant being with Logan, that is. Still, she knew where to head (it had only been a year, after all) when she asked him to use the restroom.
When she came out, he was sitting atop the stairs, looking down at her. Now wasn’t this déjà vu?
Smiling ironically to herself, she paused when Logan questioned, “What’s so funny, Ronnie?”
And there was no contempt, no malice, just genuine questioning.
Semi-honestly, she replied, “I was just thinking, is all.”
Taking her answer, he led her upstairs, but not before asking her, “You sure you want to go up here, Ronnie?”
With his eyebrow furrowed and hand slightly touching her hip, Veronica nearly smiled at his almost caring.
She shrugged, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Chuckling for the first time in a long time, Logan replied, “And you haven’t even seen my ceiling yet.”
Veronica abruptly let go of Logan’s hand.
“What—I was just kidding, Ronnie. Calm down.”
She nodded, “I knew that. Definitely.”
And then she kissed him again. A small peck on the lips could apparently go a long way, because soon enough, his hands were again at her hips, clutching her with reckless abandon. Her hands tangled themselves into his smooth, well-conditioned hair and soon, they were on the floor, mindlessly groping and touching and feeling and all sorts of loveliness before a clearing of the throat startled them.
As Logan looked up from the ground, the smirking image of his half-sister greeted him. He didn’t smile.
Instead, she sarcastically greeted, “Well, well, Logan certainly has grown up,” then, with more perk than a cheerleader on sugar-free Red Bull, “hi Veronica. It’s so good to see you. You dirty little kids. Sex takes place in the bedroom.”
Trina pointed at the duo for good measure, “I knew you two always wanted to screw Duncan over,” and to herself, “me? I never much liked the Kanes. Celeste was a total bitch.”
Veronica wasn’t even able to utter a reply. Logan, unfortunately, was.
“Says the goddess of bitch herself. Good going, Trina. Hey, why don’t you go back to playing Russian Spy #1 on Alias. Or is that stint over?”
Logan grasped Veronica’s bottom against his as she tried to wriggle her way out of his grasp.
To Veronica, he added, “We weren’t finished,” and then to his ever annoying half-sibling, “Go away. We weren’t finished.”
Trina hmphed, “Well you don’t have to whine.”
As she sashayed her way out of the room, Logan responded, “Finally,” then, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she’d be here.”
To which Veronica retorted, “Sure. You probably knew she’d be here. I never wanted to screw Duncan over. Actually, I have a boyfriend. Oh, God. Leo.”
As she too ran off, Logan glanced down at his hard-on. This was going to be one long cold shower. Dear Lord.
Who the hell was Leo anyway? What. The. Fuck. That cop?
Logan smirked, feeling more and more like one Lex Luthor ever so instantly. Keith Mars was going to enjoy this one. And then his daughter was going to murder him. Logan couldn’t wait.