A/N. I'm continuing to move my fics over here from LJ, so here's another old one. Veronica and Logan's summer between Season 2 and Season 3.

It was their third time. She liked how he didn't move her leg when she dragged it over his, even though it was too hot to be that close. He liked how they stuck together, slick with sweat and sex. And how she would rest her head on his chest and it would move up and then down with his lungs.

She liked how he would scream her name when he came and how it was more like "Oh, Verrr-onca". Their fifth time was rougher than the previous four. She left little half moon fingernail imprints in his arms, but he didn't mind. She slung her leg over his and rubbed her hand over the marks.

"You branded me."

"Sorry." Her face flushed.

"Don't be." He grabbed the hand she was brushing on his arm and entwined his fingers in it.

The seventh time was slow and melodic with lots of panting and moaning and slow movements and "yes, there". He stared at her naked body below him and she closed her eyes with the thrusts.

Her hands brushed up and down his arms, around his back, pushing him deeper. He brushed the hair off her face and sucked on her neck before rolling them over. He slid his hands up and down her arms, down her torso, down her thighs. She leaned over pushing her breasts against his chest and he grabbed her thighs, pushing her harder. They came and "Oh God. Yes. Logan!" escaped her lips.

She liked how he would do it anywhere. Cars, showers, pools, hot tubs, even public bathrooms didn't deter his passion. He liked how she wanted to do it everywhere.

"You can't keep your hands off me." He was brushing his teeth in the bathroom and she wrapped her arms around his waist, pushing her hands down his pajama pants.

"Oh, you like it."

He turned around and pressed her against the wall. "Truer words have never been spoken."

The sixteenth time was on their two month anniversary, dinner at Café De Blah Blah (his choice of words, not hers). She wore a strapless black dress, her hair pulled loosely in a chignon (she told him it wasn't a 'messy bun thing' on her head it was a chignon. Then she told him Lilly told her that) and he couldn't help but touch her. He felt electrified as his knee bumped hers and she rested her hands on it, rubbing circles, not in an "I want you, I need you, oh baby" way, but an "I care about you, I want you to be mine, oh yes" way.

Her sway as she walked to the bathroom magnetized him. He followed her and they jammed the door shut, kissing each other, hungry for each other (and dinner, they were taking an awfully long time). He propped her up on the counter and she gasped at the cold before wrapping her legs around him. His thrusts were eager and harder and they both came quickly. He muffled her moans with kisses and her body fell against his. The embrace, their arms draped around each other, lasted longer than the sex did. Her chignon fell out.

The best sex, they say, is make-up sex. Their whole relationship seemed as though it was one big make-up sex session, the anger and hurt they inflicted on each other the previous year being foreplay.

"So what are you going to do then?" She flung her arms out, her voice echoing throughout the living room. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"What I always do." He didn't look at her but knew his nonchalant attitude angered her.

"You don't do anything! Don't you want to get an education? Or a job? Don't you care? Don't you ever get bored?"

"I didn't before…I do now that you are busy all the time." He fell on the couch grabbing the video game controller.

"Oh no, we are not arguing about this again."

"You started it."

"Oh, real mature Logan." All he saw was blonde as she scoffed off and slammed his bedroom door. It took him fifteen minutes.

"Veronica? Can I come in?"

"It's your room." He opened the door and saw her curled on his bed; she didn't turn to face him. He climbed on the bed and it dropped with his weight. All he could hear was her biting her nails and his heart beating.

"Hey…" He nudged her but she didn't turn over. "Hey." He said more adamant this time. He rolled off the bed and walked over to her side. She silently slid over so he could lie next to her, but didn't look at him. He brushed his fingers down her arm.

"Why does this bother you so much?" he asked.

"I don't know," she sniffed. He pulled her into his arms and she could feel her hot breathe bounce off his chest. She brushed her hair off her warm face and pressed her lips to his and the passion ignited in them, the friction of their bodies causing fireworks.

"Do you love me?" he breathed. She looked up at him

She moved her head back down on his chest and inhaled the stale air that burned her lungs. "You're such a girl," she joked, but then her face turned serious. "You know I do."

"You've never said it."

Just like sex, their relationship climaxed. Her nineteenth birthday was their…well, they stopped counting somewhere around 20. When she asked him what he was planning he told her it was a secret. She insisted he tell her, asking how will I know what to wear? He answered that he preferred she wear nothing but casual would do.

"You are insane!"

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

"Fun? Falling off a bridge with only a cord wrapped around our feet is fun?"

"Well, yeah."

"This is kinda…weird…and, um, creepy, Logan."

They were already strapped together, people gathered around them securing everything for the thousandth time.

"Come on, Veronica." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. "I would never let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?"

She nodded her head and they walked to the edge. They clung to each other; she could hear his heart pounding.

"Count of three. One."

"I can't."

"Yes you can. Two…"

"Oh my god."

"Breathe Veronica." He looked into her eyes and she nodded.

"…Three!" They jumped off the bridge, clinging to each other, leaving bruises, Veronica screaming. After the whiplash, they bobbed and swung from side to side.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." Logan hugged her even tighter. "I can't believe we did that!" Her voice was shrill.

Upside down, she looked at him and they kissed each other, harder and harder, blood rushing to their heads. One of his arms wrapped around her waist, the other pushed them closer together. She pressed deep kisses all over him and he laughed. "I love you so much," she said into his neck. She couldn't see his eyes spark and his face flush and a smile that reached new heights.

He took her to the beach that night. It was dark, headlights and the moon the only light around them. He dropped the blanket he was carrying and turned to her. She stared at him and he breathed heavily.

"Happy Birthday, Toots," he said and pulled her closer to him. He snaked his arm around her back and grabbed her other hand.

"What're we doing?"

"This is what they call dancing. You know when you sway to music…"

"You're such a sap," she whispered. Etta James' voice drifted over from his car radio, the taste of salt water in the air. He held the hand that was in his close to his chest. The incline of the beach gave Veronica a little more height than usual and she tucked her face on his shoulder near his ear, breathing him in. She moved her hand from his and wrapped her arms around him, clutching at the back of his shirt. They fused together.

She slowly moved her face towards his and he instinctively did the same. He briefly glanced away and then focused his attention back at her. "God Veronica…"

She narrowed her brows and leaned back. "What?"

"How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Make me feel like this." She smiled, a slight breath trailing off her lips before she pushed them on his.

She would wake up trembling, cold and sweaty, bones aching. She would pad across the apartment to the living room and sit on the couch, a blanket spread across her lap. He would wake up and notice her sleeping on the couch, cartoons on the screen, her knees pressed up to her chest. It wasn't the first time.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked her, looking out the front windshield of the Xterra, and not at her; anywhere but at her.

"About what?" she shifted.

"Sleeping on the couch?"

"Oh, I've just been having trouble sleeping." She shrugged.

"You've been having nightmares." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah. So?" She said bluntly. His mouth agape, he stared at her. She waited for a response and when she didn't get one, opened the car door, slammed it shut and walked up to her apartment. He noticed the empty spot in front of the building where Keith's car seemed to be MIA.

"Do you still love me?" She could see the fire in his eyes when she said "love". She moved her head back down and he could feel her hot breath rolling down his stomach.

"You can be such a girl," he said. The sarcasm hung in the air but didn't take over. "You know I do."

"You don't say it anymore."

She fell asleep on his bed working on a case, her files spread out in front of her, laptop open next to her. He stretched out on the bed and waited.

When he woke up, the big red numbers displayed 3:40am. They both were still lying on the covers and Veronica's files were still on the bed. She was shivering, trembling and he could hear her crying. He looked over and she was still sleeping, her eyes scrunched closed. He shook her, placing his hand on her thigh.

"Veronica? Veronica? VERONICA!" She jumped and abruptly sat up.

"Logan?"

"I'm here." She looked at Logan, at the clock and her papers that were now scattered on the bed and the floor.

"I gotta get home. My…I gotta go." She rushed around, grabbing her papers and shoving them in her bag.

"Veronica, stop. Hey. Wait."

"I gotta go home Logan."

"Let me take you."

"I can drive myself." She shut her laptop, slipped her flip-flops on and headed towards the door.

"You need to talk about this." His voice was stern. She stopped.

"No, I don't."

"Talk to me…Talk to Wallace, talk to a therapist, I don't care who, just talk to someone!"

She stalked over to him, reaching out her hand, shaking his roughly. "Hello pot, the name's kettle." She turned on her heel and headed back towards the door.

"Don't walk out on me Veronica." His voice was flat and she paused before opening the door and leaving.

She remembered their first time. It was awkward, but not in an "I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing" way, it was more awkward in an "I-need-to-explore-your-body" way.

They had dinner with her father that night. When Veronica was in the room Keith grilled Logan with questions about what he was planning on doing with his life; and then, when Veronica was in the bathroom, whispered to Logan that Veronica might have forgotten how he treated her after Lilly and during the summer they were together but he won't, and that he remembers the nights she would come home crying and if he ever did anything again to hurt her, he would... Logan's face flushed and Veronica walked in the room, cutting him off. Keith stopped, but the cold lingered.

In his apartment, they sat on the couch, close to each other but not touching. She turned to look at him, tucking her leg under.

"Thanks for being so great with my dad," she said. He turned towards her, still not touching, but not distanced either.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For what?"

"For how I treated you…before. I know I hurt you…bad. And the fact that you can be with me after all that, I just don't know how you can do it."

She scooted towards him, their knees bumping. "It did hurt. Really bad." He winced. "But, that was a long time ago. Things have changed so much since then. You'vemade up for it. Besides, I'd be dead if it wasn't for you." She lightly punched him and he gently grabbed her arm, pulling her in for a kiss.

He slowly lowered them down on the couch and kissed her neck; she tangled her hands in his hair and he brought his lips back to kiss her and she moaned. She could feel his erection between her legs and he slipped his hands under her shirt, massaging her breasts. She reached for his belt and he grabbed her hand.

"We don't have to do this." His eyes were dark with need and want, worry and apprehension.

"I want to," she said without a beat. He continued kissing down her collarbone, she held her breath as he trailed further and further down.

"Shit," he said, resting his head on her stomach.

"What?"

"I don't have any…thing…"

"Oh."

Logan jumped up, quickly walking through the apartment, opening and closing drawers, searching desperately for a condom.

She peered over the couch at him, placing a finger on her chin. "Logan Echolls, without a stash of condoms in his apartment? Did hell freeze over and I just didn't notice?"

He walked over to her, kissing her forehead. "I'm gonna run down to the store."

"I'll go with you." She smiled.

It was raining as they ran to his car. Water flooded the streets and splashed up to the windows when he turned into the gas station. He ran into the store and came out with a soaked paper bag.

By the time they got back to his apartment they were both drenched and grabbing each other, kissing, holding, touching; Logan closed the door with his foot.

They stopped in the middle of the room and he smiled at her, her clothes sticking to her body in all the right places and her hair slicked to her face. She laughed and he recognized it as her girly, nervous laugh that only he gets to hear. Water trickled from his hair into his eyes and she pulled off her shirt. She smiled at him and scrunched her nose, giving him a signature Veronica look. He took off his shirt, water running down his abs and then she quickly walked to him, grabbing his face, kissing his mouth as his arms wrapped around her.

Their mouths parted and they deepened the kiss. He lightly sucked on her bottom lip and then they were taking off their shoes, their pants, now almost naked, moving to the couch. His hand moved to the band of her underwear and he slipped his hand down.

"Oh god."

He kept his hand there, gently massaging but moved his face back up to look at her. "You okay?" Concerned etched his face.

"Yeah." She nodded, reassuring him. His hands moved to the sides of her underwear and she lifted her hips off the couch as he slid them down. He removed his boxers and continued rubbing, her hips bucked slightly and he rolled on the condom.

He propped himself above her, kissing her tenderly and rested his forehead on hers.

He rubbed his thumbs down her cheeks. "God, you're so beautiful."

"You're just saying that cause I'm naked."

He laughed, "Well, yeah, that doesn't hurt. But, I don't think you realize just how beautiful you are." He smiled and her face mirrored his.

"You know Logan, there's really no need for the sweet talk, I'm pretty much a sure thing." She smiled, her cheeks flushing as she pushed their lips together. She opened her legs wider allowing him better access and he took it as an invitation and slowly pushed himself inside of her, not removing his lips from hers. She moaned into his mouth as he pressed their bodies together.

He moved slowly in her and she grasped his shoulders, moaning as he moved out of her and then pushed back in. He wanted to go slow, even though his body told him to go faster and harder. He wanted her to feel like she was all that mattered, because really she was all that mattered. He trailed his hand up and down her body as she sucked on his neck; they groped, touched, pushed, moved as one. She moved her hips with his thrusts and he could tell she was close to climax because a slight flush trailed down her body and she tightened around him. He thrust in harder and deeper and she came around him; he pushed twice more to lengthen her orgasm and he came with a growl. His arms relaxed and he dropped to her.

He breathed in heavily and looked at her beneath him, her body still a little wet from the rain and her hair splayed around her in clumps. He leaned on his arms and she put her hands on his biceps.

"Hi." She smiled, her thumbs rubbing soothingly.

"Hi."

He rolled over pulling her with him so that she was lying beside him. She absentmindedly swung her leg over his and when she started to move it he moved his hand to rest on it. "You're fine."

He remembered the first time he knew he really loved her, was in love with her, didn't want to spend one more minute without her. The afternoon was bright, sun shining through the trees, causing shadows to dance on the ground when the leaves blew in the breeze.

He didn't want to go. He couldn't see those people who still cared about him even after what he did. He couldn't look at them, at him, without disgust.

But somehow he still ended up there.

Trina had called once and he didn't answer; she left no message and didn't try back. He could see her just beyond the fence, in front of the casket, her head lowered. He could tell she was crying, but all he could think about was Lilly and leather belts and cigarette burns and his mom.

He wondered if, when he died, people would forget all his indiscretions and cry for him too.

He didn't hear them right away and by the time he saw the flashes, it was too late.

"Logan Echolls, how do you feel about your father's death?" A tall, thin man crinkled his brows and shoved a microphone in his face.

The anger flowed through his veins, to his heart, threatening to explode. "How do I feel? How do I fucking feel? I feel like you people need to get the hell away from me!"

He started to lunge towards the group when a small hand pulled his shoulder back and spun him around.

"C'mon Logan, let's go," she said, scowling at the reporters. He shrugged her hand off his shoulder but he followed her to her car and climbed in the passenger seat. He was quiet the whole ride to her apartment. She stopped in front of it and turned off the car.

"Why were you there?" he asked, head bowed down. He sounded angry and defeated.

"I don't know…" She shook her head, "No, that's a lie. Partly because I followed you; I could tell something was wrong. But I was also strangely drawn to it. Is that weird?" She questioned, a small grimace creeping in.

"No. I was too." She placed her hand on his knee and he could feel the warmth through his jeans. She waited for him to explain, but he left the conversation there, not wanting to talk about it. She ducked her head to look at him.

"It's okay, you know. He was still your dad." She left out the 'even though he was a murderer' part.

She opened her hand and he brushed his fingers over her palm. His index finger traced an 'I', then an 'L-O-V-E' and the letter 'U'. She let out a small gasp, almost a sob and he didn't look at her but her eyes watered as she leaned over pulling him in an embrace. He squeezed her and buried his head in her hair, the soft scent invading his nostrils.

He didn't realize that the loud noise he heard was not in his head or a dream, but was actually someone knocking on the door. He turned on his bedside lamp, squinting his eyes from the light. The knocking grew louder and he stumbled to the door.

He opened it and Veronica stared back at him, her disheveled hair framing her tired face. Her red rimmed eyes pleading something he couldn't quite make out. She had jeans and a crumpled white tank top on and he imagined her picking up the first thing she saw on the floor and throwing them on.

"I couldn't sleep. I mean, I had another dream." She breathed in heavily, her chest slightly heaving. "It was just flashes. Bright flashes. I could actually feel the pain, thephysical pain. I was on that bed and I wanted to move but couldn't…"

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, running his fingers through his hair. Her attention was on the door frame and she picked at the paint. He let her walk in on her own terms before he closed the door.

"The reason I couldn't…I didn't want to say anything was because I couldn't handle you knowing. I didn't want you to look at me differently. Or to think about it when we have sex, like I'm too fragile or something. I don't want you to not want me because…" She couldn't finish her sentence.

"Veronica, I want you more than anything I've ever wanted, nothing will change that. You are the most important person in my life. I can't stand to see you hurting like this."

"I thought that if I just didn't talk about it, it would go away." She blew her bangs off her face and her lip quivered.

"You don't need to talk to me about it, as long as you talk to someone. I just want you to be okay." He sat on the couch; it was a little too much for him to take standing up.

"Thank you. For being here, for pushing me. I needed that." She bit her bottom lip and he looped his fingers in her belt loop slowly pulling her towards him. She climbed on his lap where she rested her head on his shoulder. He pulled a blanket over them and placed his head on hers. He turned the TV on and changed it to the cartoon network. She fell asleep, dreamless, wrapped in comfort.