Title: Back On Course

Characters: Logan Echolls, Veronica Mars

Pairings: Logan/Veronica,

Rating: Mature

Summary: Sequel to Absolute Bearing. After reconnecting in New York during Fleet Week, Logan and Veronica try to navigate their newly-rekindled friendship. Second in the Finding The Way Back series.

Author's Notes: Entry for both the July Summer Lovin' Challenge and the VMFicRecs July Veronica Mars Fic Prompt: 'Flowers in her hair'

New York City – May 2014

Veronica should be studying right now, she really should. Her Constitutional Law final is less than twelve hours away, and she still has to go over Judical Review and Judical Supremacy, not to mention Executive Power and Foreign Affairs. But the thing is, Logan's here, right beside her as she dips her toes in the cool water of the Columbus Circle fountains, regaling her with tales of flight school, and there's nowhere else she would rather be.

She was supposed to be on the subway back to Brooklyn thirty minutes ago, but when Logan spotted the fountains and grabbed her hand, dragging her over to them, she couldn't say no. Getting on the subway means saying goodbye, it means possibly not seeing him again, and she doesn't even want to think about that. She reasons that if she doesn't know the material for the final by now, she won't know it in 12 hours, and pushes thoughts of studying to the back of her mind, giving Logan her full attention.

"So, the landing should have been easy, right?" Logan's saying, hands moving animatedly. "It's a routine sortie, flying conditions are great; there's no reason at all for anything to go wrong."

"Right." Veronica nods.

"But of course, famous last words. I'm coming in to land and out of nowhere, the warning lights start flashing and Bitching Betty's going crazy."

"Bitching Betty?"

"Oh, uh…" He grins, rubbing the back of his neck. "That's what we call the warning system voice. You know…" He imitates a digitised voice, "Pull up. Pull up. Altitude. Altitude."

Veronica chuckles lightly.

"Anyway," he continues. "I'm only a few hundred feet off the ground and the controls are failing and there's nothing I can do. It's too risky to stay in the air, so I have to land the thing. Except there's no data on my screens and I have no idea what I'm supposed to do."

"Geez, Logan." Veronica feels a tug in her chest at the thought of him in danger, looking at him in stunned concern. "What happened?"

"Well, I made it. Just," he says. "I had a whole team on the ground talking me down, and they were great, but it was fucking close. My hands were shaking for, like, an hour." He runs a hand through his hair. "I was only a few months into flight training at that point and I'm telling you, Veronica, it freaked me the hell out for weeks afterward. I almost packed it in right there and then."

"I'll bet."

Veronica studies his profile, marvelling at the changes she can see in him compared with seven years ago. As a teenager, he was reckless and impulsive; in fact, that aspect of his personality more than likely played into his decision to become a fighter pilot. At 26 though, he seems calmer, more in control of himself. He doesn't fidget as much as he used to and the hunched, almost submissive stance has evolved into cool, calm confidence. He used to be all over the place with his elaborate hand gestures and wide range of facial expressions, but this Logan is composed and collected. It's fascinating to observe.

"What?" he asks, bringing her out of her thoughts.

Veronica blinks. He's looking at her curiously, lips curled up in a half-smile.

"Nothing." She shakes her head, then looks at her watch. "It's getting late…"

She leaves the sentence hanging, not wanting to be the one to bring the evening to an end.

"You have to get home." Logan nods in understanding.

"I really do," she says reluctantly, pulling her toes from the water and slipping her sandals back on before standing up, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder. "If it's any consolation, I kinda don't want to go."

He joins her, smile widening into a grin as he admits, "I kinda don't want you to go, either."

He holds out his arm, crooking the elbow.

"Walk you to the station, ma'am?"

"Why, thank you, Lt. JG Echolls," she replies, linking her arm through his.

They cross the traffic circle and head towards the subway station, coming to a stop just outside the entrance.

"Are you sure you'll be okay getting home?" asks Logan, turning to face her and shoving his hands in his pants pockets. "I can get you a cab, if you like."

Veronica shakes her head. "I'll be fine, Logan. I take the subway alone all the time."

"Even at ten p.m. on a Sunday night?" His expression is sceptical, one eyebrow raised and lips curling up slightly. He glances toward the station entrance, then back at her, jaw set and determined. "Look, I'll come with you; make sure you get home safe."

"No, you don't have to do that, Logan. Seriously."

"I want to," he insists. "Please?"

"Okay, fine." Veronica resists the urge to roll her eyes. Nice to see he hasn't lost that protective streak. She grins then. "You know what; I'm actually looking forward to this: Logan Echolls, slumming it on public transit."

"Oh, ha, ha," he mocks as he follows her into the station.

When they step onto the train and take a seat, Veronica smiles to herself, warmth spreading through her chest as she glances at him, still right here beside her. His insistence on getting her home safely is reassuring, not because she can't protect herself on the subway, but because the action implies he's not ready to say goodbye either.

It's no secret that there are a lot of unresolved issues between them, and a lot of that is her fault. She's the one who just up and left Neptune without a word all those years ago, not giving either of them a chance to work through their problems. It's been nice, though, just being able to spend time with him today, enjoying his company, laughing and joking without having to bring up the past, without their old problems resurfacing. Like they're normal people or something.

Veronica looks over at Logan. He's taking in his surroundings, eyes roaming the small car with interest, and she smiles, nudging his arm.

"You know, it's almost like you've never ridden the subway before."

"Uh, well…" He presses his lips together then and makes a face, giving a sheepish shrug.

"Seriously? You haven't?"

This shouldn't surprise her. He's the son of two movie stars, he grew up in a life of luxury; of course he wouldn't have taken the subway.

"Never needed to before," he admits. "We always had drivers when we came here."

He shrugs, looking down at his hands, his fingers twisting around each other in constant motion. Veronica frowns; it's a gesture he used all the time in high school, and given that only a few minutes ago she was marvelling over his lack of fidgeting, it's enough to make her realise he's uncomfortable now.

She reaches out, lets her hand rest over his, stilling the movement, then takes his hand in hers, squeezing lightly. He doesn't say anything, just returns the squeeze and then shifts his hand and links their fingers. They sit in comfortable silence for the remainder of the subway ride, just holding hands, Veronica making the most of the the small amount of time she has left with him.

When they get to her stop, Veronica tugs on his hand, pulling him up off the seat and out of the train car.

"So, this is Brooklyn, huh?" Logan observes during the five-minute walk from the subway station to her apartment. "I always wondered what it was like."

Veronica shoots him a bemused look, unsure whether he's joking or is genuinely curious.

"Yep. Home, sweet home for the last 18 months."

"You like it here?"

Veronica nods. "I do. I mean, it's so different from SoCal, but still, there's something about the atmosphere here that I really like."

"I'm glad."

They fall quiet for the next couple of blocks, until Veronica stops outside her apartment building and turns to him.

"So, this is me."

"Right." Logan glances up at the four-story building.

"Yeah…"

Logan's looking at her intently and she searches for something to say. Well, this isn't awkward at all…

Thankfully, he saves her from having to come up with anything witty. "It was great to see you again, Veronica."

"You too, Logan." She nods. "And thank you for dinner."

He gives a faint smile. "My pleasure."

"So, um…"

"Uh…"

With a self-conscious little bob, Veronica steps forward, fully aware that Logan's eyes are following her every move, and reaches out, rising up on her tiptoes so she can wrap her arms around his neck and pull him into a tight hug—something she's been itching to do all evening. Logan seems surprised for a moment, his body rigid against hers, before he relaxes, his arms coming around her, holding her close. His left hand is splayed flat across her upper back and she marvels at the warmth of his palm against her skin.

The hug seems to last forever, as if neither of them are willing to let go. Logan's embrace is comforting and safe, his arms strong, body solid, the scent of his aftershave familiar—still that same cedar and sandalwood—and maybe if Veronica closes her eyes, she can pretend she's nineteen again; that they're still together and happy, that none of the bad shit happened, that they don't live on opposite sides of the country from each other.

It's Logan who pulls away first and Veronica reluctantly loosens her grip, lowering her heels to the ground as her hands slide down over his shoulders to rest on his chest—his very defined chest, if the play of muscles under her fingers is any indication. She looks up to find him staring at her, his mouth slightly open, gaze searching hers. Her tongue slips out to wet her suddenly dry lips and Logan's eyes follow the movement.

His head starts to dip towards hers, his intent obvious, and for a moment, Veronica's tempted to let it happen, but a niggling thought pops up in the back of her mind—Don't start something you can't finish, Veronica. It's not a good idea—and causes her to push lightly against his chest. She takes a step back, extracting herself from his arms.

"Uh, I should go," she says softly.

"Right, yeah, okay." Logan straightens, shoving his hands back in his pockets, though to his credit, his expression gives nothing away. "Uh, good luck for your final tomorrow."

"Thanks." She nods. "And safe trip back to California."

"Thanks."

"I really enjoyed seeing you again, Logan."

"Me too."

"Well, okay." She lowers her head, digging in her bag for her keys—mostly as a distraction—and pulling them out. "I'm gonna…"

She tilts her head in the direction of the apartment building.

"All right."

"Bye, Logan."

He nods. "Goodbye, Veronica."

Turning from him, she moves to the door, unlocking it with shaking fingers. As she pulls it open, she has to force herself not to turn back to look at him, but as she closes it behind her, she can't help but sneak a quick glance. Logan in uniform, with that soft smile on his face, is a sight to behold. God, that image is going to be stuck in my head now.

"Oh my," she murmurs softly, turning back and heading up to her apartment.

New York City – late May 2014

Veronica holds out for almost ten days. Of course, five of those days are taken up with finals, so she doesn't have much time to dwell, but once exams are over and she's twiddling her thumbs for something to do, that's when it hits.

She ends up in front of her laptop, Googling things like 'how to become a navy pilot' and 'what's it like to fly a fighter jet?' and 'how fast does the F/A-18 fly?'. She tells herself it's just because she's curious about the navy, that it's something anyone else might do after meeting a pilot at Fleet Week, but she's lying to herself and she knows it.

Seeing Logan again last week has pushed everything off-kilter, turning her simple, Neptune-free life completely on its head. After they said goodbye, it should have been back to business as usual, after all, it was only a few hours of her life on a Sunday afternoon… so why does it feel like everything's changed now?

An Officer and a Gentleman is showing on TV one evening and Veronica is fascinated. Whereas before, she only really watched for Richard Gere, now she's paying attention to the details, trying to picture Logan in Zack Mayo's position, going through officer training to become a pilot.

It starts off with a casual text message, a simple query, really. A quick, 'So is OCS training really like in An Officer and A Gentleman?' sent to Logan's phone. She doesn't think much of it at the time. She had a question and she asked it… but it seems to get the ball rolling.

He replies a few minutes later: 'Kinda. The training structure has changed a bit since the 80s though', then follows up with, 'Why, you interested in joining up?'

She chuckles at that. Veronica Mars: Navy pilot? Not likely.

' No. The movie's on TV right now. Got me thinking.'

'Right. Okay.' Veronica shakes her head. How does he still manage to bring the sarcasm, even through a text message?

Another message comes through. 'How did your finals go?'

'They were tough, but I think I did okay.' She won't know her grades for a few more days, but Veronica is fairly confident she did well.

' I'm sure you aced them.'

She doesn't quite know how to respond to that, so she changes the subject. 'How's Fresno? Getting settled in?'

'Fresno is Fresno. Not much more to say about it, but the base is pretty decent.'

'Glad to hear it.' Veronica glances at the clock—it's after midnight—and regretfully sends another text. 'Sorry, I have to go. It's getting late and I have to be up early in the morning.'

' Okay. Night, Veronica.'

' Night, Logan.'

New York City - Mid-June 2014

As Logan predicted, Veronica does pretty much ace all her finals and at the beginning of June she starts a summer internship with a prestigious law firm in the city. Their communication continues in the same vein for the next few weeks, sending regular text messages, sometimes a few days apart if they're busy, but more often than not, long conversations, constant messages sent back and forth through the day. They don't discuss anything particularly serious, mostly just day-to-day life and interesting things they've seen or done lately.

It's on one Friday evening in mid-June when Veronica takes things up a notch and actually calls him. It's only for convenience purposes, she tells herself. They've been messaging for almost two hours, each text getting longer, and it's getting rather time-consuming, not to mention her fingers are starting to ache from all the typing. Rather than responding to his latest message, she impulsively clicks on his name and presses the call button.

"Veronica?" He picks up after two rings, sounding confused. "What's wrong?"

"What, a girl can't call the guy she's been messaging constantly for the last two hours?" she says playfully. "What is the world coming to?"

There's a pause, then he chuckles, the sound low and warm. "Of course you can."

"I just figured this was easier," she says. "You know, talking instead of typing."

"Yeah. It is." There's a smile in his voice. "So, where were we?"

"Hmm, I believe we were discussing the merits of the Air Force over the Navy," she replies. "Of course, I've always been an Air Force girl myself."

"Very funny," he says dryly. "And you don't know what you're talking about. Air Force pilots are a bunch of wimps."

"Real mature, Logan."

It's really good to hear his voice again, and to have fun, interesting conversations without all the emotional drama that plagued their relationship in high school and at Hearst. He starts listing all the reasons why the US Navy is head and shoulders above the USAF and with a smile, Veronica settles back against her couch cushions, content to just listen to his smooth tone in her ear.

New York City – Early August 2014

The text messages turn into regular phone calls, and then in July, he video-calls her on Skype. It's a little awkward at first, to be talking face-to-face, but not in person, but Veronica soon starts looking forward to their twice-weekly Skype dates. She's not stupid, she knows she's treading a fine line here, being friends with Logan again, talking to him so often, but not actually being in a relationship. Despite her vehement protests to the contrary, Sarah seems to think Veronica and Logan are back together again, or are at least well on their way, but Veronica is adamant that they are nothing more than friends.

Truth be told, she doesn't really know what they are right now. They haven't talked about the state of this new relationship of theirs and for her part, Veronica's content to keep it that way. She relishes the easy conversation between them now, how they can just talk about anything and everything without their old issues coming into it, whether they're bantering back and forth or discussing more serious affairs. There's no pressure, no expectation; it's just Veronica and Logan, enjoying each other's company.

It's Friday night at the beginning of August and she's eating Chinese take-out, relaxing on the couch with a glass of red wine when she hears the familiar chime of his incoming Skype call. With a grin, she drops the chopsticks into the carton and places it down on the coffee table, then grabs her laptop, propping it up on a cushion at the end of the couch, and accepts the call.

A couple of seconds later, Logan appears on the screen, a wide smile on his face. He's dressed in his green flight suit, white t-shirt peeking out from underneath and sunglasses tucked into the neck. He looks good.

"Hey," she greets happily. "You look like you're channelling Tom Cruise."

He glances down at himself, then back up at her, lips curling up into a suggestive smirk. "Pfft, Tom Cruise? Baby, I'm the real thing."

Veronica tries to ignore the rush of heat that flows through her at the words and instead widens her smile, keeping her response light.

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, JG." She reaches for the glass of wine and takes a sip, then switches it for the Chinese food, crossing her legs on the couch as she digs in.

"Eating dinner, huh?"

She nods, swallowing a mouthful of noodles. "Take-out for one."

"Sarah not around?"

Veronica shakes her head. "She's out of town for the weekend. Visiting her parents in Florida."

"So you're home alone?" She nods. "No night on the town or big date planned?"

"God no." She scoffs. "This internship's still kicking my ass. I'm surprised I'm still awake right now."

"You've only got a couple weeks left, right?"

"Yeah, two more weeks. Thank God." She reaches for the glass and takes another sip of wine. "Not that I'll have much time to recover, since classes start right after."

Logan studies her thoughtfully for a moment, then shakes his head slightly, expression sombre. "You need to stop working yourself so hard."

"I'm fine, Logan," she dismisses quickly, gathering up some noodles with her chopsticks. "It's just how law school is."

He purses his lips together, then looks down for a moment. When his gaze returns to her, there's hesitance in his eyes.

"Look, uh, what are you doing Labor Day weekend?" He doesn't wait for a response, just forges ahead. "There's a Families Day on base, you know, flyovers, displays, static aircraft, fairground rides. The whole shebang. Maybe you could come out for a visit?"

Shit, is Veronica's immediate reaction, quickly followed by, Don't do this, Logan. Don't make things complicated.

Aloud though, she says, "I think I'm gonna need all the study time I can get."

He looks at her with that disappointed, sad smile of his. "Veronica…"

She sighs. "Oh, don't start, Logan."

"You're gonna burn yourself out if you're not careful."

"I can handle it." She brings the noodle-filled chopsticks to her mouth, chewing quickly.

He sighs. "So, I take it that's a no to Labor Day weekend, then?"

"I'd love to, Logan, but I can't. I'm sorry."

"Well, it was just an idea."

The tone of his voice and that intense look in his eyes sets off warning bells. It's the look he always used to get before he took the conversation in a serious turn, and serious conversation is not something she wants to deal with right now.

"So, you've been flying today?"

"Huh?" He looks confused.

"The flight suit?" She gestures toward his outfit with her chopsticks.

"Oh." He looks down. "Yeah, training sortie this afternoon."

"How'd it go?"

"Yeah, it was good. I—" His eyes narrow suspiciously. "Wait, did you just deliberately change the subject?"

Veronica affects an innocent look, pointing to herself. "Who me?"

"Yeah, you. Don't forget, I know you, Veronica Mars." He studies her for a second before thankfully choosing to drop the subject, his mouth tugging into a half-smile as he nods toward the Chinese food. "So, what are you eating anyway?"

New York City – Early September 2014

It's been a couple of weeks since third year of law school started and although Veronica is quickly discovering that 3L is much less intense than she expected, she's determined not to let her grades drop because of it. She's always heard people say that third year is a breeze, with a much smaller workload than first and second years, but she wasn't sure if it was just talk, so she's been withholding judgement until she actually got to third year. Turns out those people were pretty much right, with a very reduced class-load and the encouragement to go out and work in the community or to take classes in other fields. She's thankful for it, but she's also heard horror stories of good students losing job offers because they think they can slack off and then get a rude awakening at the end of the year.

She lets herself into her apartment on the Friday of Labor Day weekend, the quiet emptiness even more stark than usual. Sarah's gone now, having moved out last week after securing a job with a tech company in DC, and Veronica's still trying to decide whether to find a new roommate or to end the lease and look for a smaller, studio apartment somewhere a bit cheaper.

She takes a quick shower, then tugs on sweats and a tank top and heads out to the kitchen. Her phone rings just as she's digging through the kitchen drawers for her varied selection of take-out menus.

"Logan, hey," she greets. "What's up?"

"Not much." His smooth voice comes through the line. "You?"

"Just got home," she says. "Right now, I'm trying to find the take-out menu for my favourite Italian place."

"Gino's, right?"

"Yeah." She grins. "Good memory."

"Good luck."

"Thanks." She pauses. "Look, I'm sorry about not making it out there this weekend."

"It's okay. I understand." His tone is light, airy, as if it doesn't bother him in the slightest, which makes her frown.

"Right," she replies. "So, what are you up to for the holiday?"

"Well, the Families' Day event is still happening on base. The jets are displaying."

"Yeah, of course."

"I was thinking though, maybe I could come out to New York again sometime?"

Veronica smiles, feeling a small flip in her chest. "Uh, sure. I'd like that. When were you thinking?"

There's a knock on the door. "Hang on a sec."

Veronica crosses the room, her eyes widening in shock when she opens the door.

"How about right now?" He grins at her, snapping his phone closed with one hand. He has a take-out bag of food in the other hand and a camouflage duffle bag is slung over one shoulder.

"Logan? Oh my God." She hangs up the phone and shoves it onto the small table beside the door.

He's right here, in New York, standing at her door.

"Surprise."

She pulls him into a hug. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugs. "I figured since you couldn't come to California…"

"But I thought you had that Families Day thing?" She frowns, confused, as she steps back and gestures for him to come in. "Don't you need to be there... to, you know, fly the planes?"

"Oh, I'm not actually working it," he says casually, stepping over the threshold and dropping his duffle bag to the floor. "They only need two pilots to fly the display and a couple more manning the static aircraft." He grins. "I have the whole weekend free."

Veronica nods, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Ah, so the whole 'I'm flying my jet in the display so you have to come watch' thing was just an excuse to get me to California?"

He fakes an affronted look. "As if I would do that."

She just fixes him with a disbelieving expression.

He shrugs, "Besides, I never actually said I was flying, just that the event was on."

"Hmm." Veronica purses her lips, eyes narrowing. Logan fixes her with an innocent expression and she relaxes, giving a genuine smile. "It's good to see you, Logan."

He smiles, gives a nod as he drops the take-out bag onto the kitchen table. Veronica nods toward it, noticing the name on the side.

"You got food from Gino's?"

"Of course." He grins. "It's your favourite, right?"

"Thank you." She presses her lips together, trying not to grin stupidly. "So, you're in New York," she states. "For the weekend?"

"Until Monday." He nods. "If you don't mind."

"Of course not."

They stand together in the kitchen for a long moment, neither of them speaking, until Veronica can't take it anymore and awkwardly breaks the silence

"So…"

"So…?" he replies with a smirk, then gestures to the take-out bag. "You hungry?"

"Oh, yeah. Right. Food." Veronica shakes her head and moves past him to pull a couple of plates out of the cupboard and place them on the table.

Logan opens the bag and starts pulling out cartons, opening the lids while she grabs the cutlery. He dishes out two helpings of lasagne and garlic bread and Veronica goes on the hunt for something to drink.

"You want some wine? I have some leftover red." She opens the fridge and looks inside. "Or there's Skist in here."

"Wow, I haven't had Skist in years." Behind her, Logan sounds amused. She turns in time to see him snap his fingers and point toward the fridge. "I'll take one trip down memory lane, please."

"Skist it is."

Veronica grabs a couple of cans and reaches for two glasses. As she pours the drinks, Logan pushes the take-out cartons to one side and lays two place settings. She gestures for him to sit, then slides into her own chair.

"Well, bon appétit," he says, reaching for his fork.

"Uh, I think you mean buon appetito," Veronica corrects, pointing to the lasagne. "Italian."

"Whatever," he dismisses, giving a smirk as he digs into the food.

"Oh my God, this is amazing." She groans when the first bite hits her tongue. Beside her, Logan chuckles. "What?"

"Nothing, just… you and Italian food." He grins. "Lasagne and Skist. Nice to see some things never change."

Two hours later finds Veronica relaxing on her slightly threadbare sofa, legs pulled up, feet curled under her and Logan sitting beside her. Zoolander is playing on the TV and she's trying her best to give it her attention while simultaneously trying to ignore how close Logan is. She's extremely aware of his jean-clad thigh barely an inch from her knee. If she were to just shift a couple of inches, she could snuggle up next to him.

The movie cuts to a commercial break and Logan speaks up. "Hey, can I use your bathroom?"

"Sure." Veronica nods in the direction of the hallway. "Just down the hall. First door on the left."

While he's using the facilities, Veronica clears away their empty bowls of ice cream and grabs a couple more drinks. She's back on the couch by the time Logan reappears and adjusts her position to make room for him. He flops down beside her, his left arm resting along the back of the sofa. Veronica stays in the same position for a few seconds, very conscious of his bare forearm brushing against her shoulder blades, until she can't take it anymore.

With a resigned huff of air, she shifts on the cushions and moves closer, letting her head rest against his chest, just below his shoulder. His arm drops from the back of the couch and comes around her. She looks up to find him looking pleased with himself and realises she's been had.

"Subtle."

"Yeah, I thought so," he says, amusement in his tone.

She doesn't say anything more, but also doesn't move, content to stay right where she is, curled up next to him, feeling the warmth of his body against hers.

It's getting late when the movie finally ends and Veronica has already been yawning for about half an hour.

"I guess I should be getting going," says Logan, moving to slide off the couch.

Veronica sits up, puzzled. "Getting going?"

"Yeah." He nods. "I have a room booked at the Sheraton."

"Wait, you're not staying here?"

He shrugs, looking a little uncomfortable. "I didn't want to assume anything."

"Don't be an idiot. You're welcome to stay," she says, then adds, "In fact, I want you to."

"Really?" He looks surprised.

"Sure." She shrugs, standing up. "I'll make up the bed in Sarah's… uh, in the spare room."

She hasn't quite got used to the fact that Sarah doesn't live here anymore.

"Right. Sure."

She gives him a quick smile, then heads down the hall to grab some bed linen. Veronica makes the bed quickly, fluffing up the pillows and laying out a couple of towels on it, before heading out to the living room again. Logan has retrieved his duffle bag from the kitchen and is sitting on the couch again, bag beside him and phone in hand.

He looks up when she walks in. "I called the hotel, cancelled the room."

"Great. Well, uh, bedroom's all yours," she tells him. "Second on the left, just past the bathroom."

He stands up, hoisting the bag onto his shoulder. "Thanks, Veronica."

She nods. "Feel free to use the bathroom first. I'm going to clean up in here."

He nods, then disappears down the hallway. Veronica watches his retreating back for a moment, before moving into the kitchen area to wash the dishes and wipe down the surfaces. When she's done, she turns out the lights and heads for her bedroom to get changed. As she passes the bathroom, the door opens and Logan walks out, dressed in a US Navy t-shirt and a pair of loose boxers. He shoots her a smile as he heads for the second bedroom.

"Night, Veronica."

"Goodnight, Logan."

Veronica wakes early in the morning. No, scratch that; it feels like she's barely slept at all, tossing and turning all night. No matter how much she tried to relax, her thoughts kept drifting to the fact that Logan was sleeping just across the hall. It hasn't really sunk in that he's actually here. In her apartment. For a whole weekend. She can't quite decide whether it's a good thing or a bad thing.

They've been getting a lot closer lately, re-learning each other's interests, talking about what they've been up to for the last few years, but she's been hesitant to give their relationship any other label than 'just friends'. However, now that they're in close, real proximity to each other, she has an awful feeling this weekend is going to end up blowing her carefully-constructed walls right down, leaving her exposed and vulnerable to him.

Unable to simply lie in bed and do nothing, she gets up, and by the time Logan appears from his room, rubbing sleep from one eye, his short hair sticking up in all directions, she's showered, dressed and making a breakfast of bacon and eggs.

"Morning," she greets with a smile. "Sleep well?"

"Uh huh." He nods. "You?"

"Not bad." She's not going to admit she tossed and turned all night because of him. "You wanna take a shower? The food will be a few more minutes."

"Sure." He looks a little more awake now. "I'll, uh, be back in a few."

Veronica serves up the bacon and eggs, and makes some coffee. It's instant, unfortunately, but she can't afford a coffee machine so she has to make do. Logan appears, freshly showered, his hair still damp, and dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. Damn, he looks good. Veronica's eyes rake over him involuntarily before she catches herself and looks away, gesturing to the table.

"Breakfast is served."

"Thanks." He nods, giving a smile as he slides onto one of the chairs.

Veronica joins him and they tuck in. All goes well until Logan reaches for his coffee mug, takes a sip and makes a disgusted face.

"Ew, what the hell is this?"

Veronica winces sheepishly. "Sorry. It's instant."

"Instant?" He looks bemused, staring at the contents of his mug. "What is this thing you call 'instant'?"

"It's all I can afford." She shrugs and nods toward the counter. "Plus, no coffee maker."

"Well, that just won't do." He looks up, expression serious. "First thing I'm doing today: buying you a coffee machine and some decent coffee."

Veronica stops, fork midway to her mouth. "No, Logan, I can't let you do that."

"Veronica, if I'm going to be staying here, I'm gonna need good coffee. Just think of it as a thank you for your hospitality."

Veronica almost chokes on her bacon.

"That's a bit much for a three-day visit." At his raised eyebrow, her eyes widen. "Wait, you're planning to stay here more often?"

He shrugs. "Well, I guess that's up to you… but I'm not opposed."

"I, uh…" Her mouth opens and closes in an ungainly manner. "Sure. Me neither."

"Great." He flashes a grin. "We'll go shopping this morning."

Later that afternoon, after having acquired a brand new, state-of-the-art coffee machine and a generous supply of Logan's favourite coffee (which Veronica refuses to admit to him that she loves too), and setting it up in her kitchen, they grab lunch from a small café near her apartment, then take the subway into Manhattan.

It's an unseasonably warm day for September with Indian summer temperatures sweeping across the East Coast, and after only a few minutes of walking through Central Park, beads of sweat start to form on Veronica's forehead. She wipes them away with the her forearm, glad she went with the loose tank-top and capri pants this morning instead of her usual fitted t-shirt and long pants, then glances over at Logan, who, she's annoyed to note, seems perfectly fine in his jeans.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah." She nods, fanning herself with her hand. "Just hot."

"How do you feel about ice cream?" He points out an ice cream cart a couple of hundred yards away.

"Please." She nods eagerly.

"Come on."

Logan grabs her hand, pulling her over to the cart, and buys two waffle cones, handing one to her. They walk a few hundred feet, towards a stone bench surrounded by shrubbery and take a seat.

They eat in silence for a moment, before Veronica says, "Thanks for coming to New York, Logan." She frowns. "Uh, why did you come?"

He smiles faintly, thoughtful gaze fixed on something in the distance for a moment before he turns back to her. "I wanted to see you."

She smiles, looking down for a moment as a familiar warmth spreads through her chest, then lifts her eyes up to him again. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too."

Her fingers are itching to reach out and touch him, to run through his hair and across the defined biceps peeking out from under his polo shirt. But she doesn't let them, afraid to step outside her comfort zone.

Logan glances at something to her left, his lips twitching up in a mischievous half-smile, one that means he's up to something. He leans forward, reaching across her, and Veronica smiles faintly as the scent of his cologne invades her senses. Then he's pulling back, holding a delicate pink flower in his hand. Reaching up, he slides it into her hair, tucking it behind her right ear.

What are you doing?" she asks softly, watching him in amusement; his mouth has fallen open slightly in concentration.

"Looks pretty." He grins, reaching for another flower, a purple one this time, and sliding it in just above the other.

"They're just gonna fall out, you know," she warns. "My hair's not thick enough."

Logan makes a show of rolling his eyes. "Ruin my fun, why don't you?"

"Fine." Veronica tuts, holding her cone out for him to hold. "Here."

He takes it from her and she lifts her bag into her lap, rummaging through it, careful not to jostle the flowers, until she finds a couple of stray bobby pins. She carefully pushes them into her hair, fixing the flowers more securely.

"There, that's better. Happy?"

"Very." He grins, catching his tongue between his teeth.

They finish the cones and wander around Central Park for a while longer, until Veronica notices how late it's getting and Logan promptly decides he's going to take her for dinner at one of his favourite restaurants in the city. Veronica's a little surprised he even has a favourite restaurant in New York, since he's barely spent any time here since he was a teenager, but apparently, when your parents are movie stars, you learn of the finer things in life at a young age.

Delmonico's is located in the Financial District, not far from Wall St., and has been around since the 1830's. It was the first fine-dining restaurant in the country, Logan informs her, and takes credit for inventing dishes like Eggs Benedict and Baked Alaska. Veronica takes one look at the prices and balks, but before she can suggest they go somewhere else, Logan stops her with a hand on her arm.

"Just sit back and enjoy the food, Veronica," he says. "I've got it; don't worry."

She shakes her head. "You can't keep spending your money on me, Logan."

"Why not?" He shrugs. "It's not like it's being used for much else these days."

She lets out a breath. "Because it makes me uncomfortable."

He studies her seriously for a moment, before nodding slowly. "Okay, fine. I'm still paying for dinner, though. But, after tonight, no more spending. Happy?"

"Yes." She exhales, giving a nod. "Thank you."

He's still watching her, so she dips her head to study the menu. She's still not completely comfortable with eating here, but the food does look delicious, and she practically salivates when she sees the dessert menu.

It turns out that the Filet Mignon is about the best thing she's ever eaten, and the Baked Alaska, which she and Logan share, is divine. At the end of the meal, Veronica gives a contented sigh, sitting back in her chair and finishing off her wine. She nods towards Logan's still full glass.

"You not gonna drink that?"

He shakes his head. "You want it?"

"Sure." She reaches across the table, lifting it from the coaster and taking a sip.

By the time they leave the restaurant, it's after nine p.m. and Veronica's feeling pleasantly buzzed. Upon Logan's insistence, they take a cab back to Brooklyn and she teases him about being above taking the subway again. They reach her apartment just before ten, and Veronica moves right into the kitchen, coming to stand in front of the shiny, new coffee machine.

"So, let's see if we can crank up this bad boy." She grabs the instruction leaflet in an attempt to figure out how to work the thing. "Okay, here goes…"

"Look at you, all technical." She stiffens slightly when she feels Logan step up behind her, fingers gently brushing her hair back over her shoulder, exposing her neck.

His finger traces a line along her neck and she shivers involuntarily at the contact, feeling the heat from his torso against her back.

"Logan…" She's not sure if it's a protest or a plea.

"You look gorgeous tonight." His fingers drift up to the flowers still in her hair. "Especially with these." Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him smile, before he quotes softly, "I love the way you wear, all the flowers in your hair tonight."

She clamps down on the feelings his proximity is causing in her and instead asks, "What's that from?"

He shrugs, catching a petal between his finger and thumb. "Just a song I heard the other day. Some Irish-country singer."

Inhaling deeply to steel herself, she turns to face him. He's so close that her arm brushes against his abdomen as she moves. She rests her hands on the kitchen counter behind her as she looks up at him. His eyes are dark, hooded with unconcealed desire, and she must have had too much wine, because God, that look is doing things to her she'd rather not think about.

His fingers slide down along her neck again, then slide around so his palm is cupping her jaw. His gaze is piercing, almost challenging. Fuck it, she thinks, as she rises up on her tiptoes, using the counter as leverage to push herself up, then grabs his face in her hands, kissing him urgently.

He doesn't waste even a second, his hand sliding up into her hair, tugging her close. It's desperate and eager, the sound of their ragged breathing harsh in the quiet of the apartment. His hands slide down to her waist, then curve over her butt, and she jumps up, wrapping her legs around his hips as he eases her up onto the counter.

"God, Logan," she murmurs when his mouth leaves hers and kisses a trail along her jaw, her hands cradling the back of his neck. "What are we doing?"

He lifts his head, looks into her eyes with such a tender expression it makes her chest ache. "Uh, what I've wanted to do since I first saw you that day at the Pier?"

"Really?" She smiles, tracing her fingers along his jaw. "Me too."

"Yeah?"

Veronica nods.

"But I didn't want to rush into anything," she says softly, letting her fingertips drift up to his temple, then along his cheek. "I was scared to. You know, there's a lot of history here."

"Yeah, there is," he replies softly, understanding.

"But talking to you the last few months has been so great," she adds. "And today… I mean, you came all the way out here, for me."

"I did," he agrees solemnly.

"I don't want to lose you from my life, Logan," admits Veronica, repeating the words she said to him one morning so many years ago. "I want to keep talking to you, and spending time with you, and—"

He cuts her off with a kiss, one that makes her toes curl and causes warmth to pool in her belly.

"I want that too," he says, when he pulls away. "It's always been you, Veronica."

She smiles widely, happiness bubbling up in her chest. Tightening her legs around his waist, she tugs him even closer, her eyes sliding closed and a soft sigh escaping her lips at the feel of him pressing against her intimately. He kisses her again, sliding his hands under her thighs and lifting her up off the counter.

There's a little stumbling around furniture and fumbling for light switches, but he manages to manoeuvre them down the hallway toward her bedroom, opening the door and carrying her inside. When he reaches the bed, he releases his grip on her thighs, setting her down on the end. She rises up into a kneeling position, pulls her tank top over her head, then reaches for the hem of his polo shirt and tugs it upwards. He helps her get it over his head and then he's standing shirtless before her. She gapes at the sight of his torso and, reaching out a hand, runs her fingers across the well-defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, feeling them contract beneath her touch.

She looks up at him with a smirk. "When did this happen?"

He shrugs, though he returns her smile. "Navy training."

"I like," she declares, grinning. "I definitely like."

He reaches out, slips his arms around her waist, hands cradling her lower back, and pulls her close. "You're pretty fucking gorgeous yourself, you know."

He gently brushes his lips against hers, then darts his tongue out, tracing her lower lip. Slipping her hands around his neck, she tugs him down to the bed, shifting so she's lying beneath him. He kisses her eagerly, his tongue slipping between her parted lips as he settles between her legs.

He spends several long moments kissing her, brushing his mouth over hers, nibbling gently at her bottom lip, dipping his tongue inside, before trailing his lips down her neck and over her collarbone, his hand coming up to cup her breast through the soft material of her bra. His hard length is pressing against her through the denim of his jeans, and Veronica shifts her hips in an attempt to ease some of the tension thrumming through her.

"Patience," he murmurs against her skin, glancing up at her with a smile. "It's been seven years. I plan to take my time here."

Veronica lets out a frustrated huff, tightening her fingers in his short hair. "Well, don't take too long. It's been seven fucking years."

He chuckles against her chest, his breath tickling her skin and sending tingles along her nerves.

"Oh, I'll make it worth your while. I promise."

Yeah, okay, he wasn't lying. At all, Veronica concedes an hour later, when she's lying boneless and breathless beside him on the bed. He certainly did make it worth my while. I'm not sure I can even stand up now.

She hasn't felt this satisfied after sex since… well, since the last time she and Logan were together. Sure, there have been a few other guys over the years, but none of them came anywhere close to this.

Six fucking orgasms. Six. And that was before they even got to the actual sex.

If she thought eighteen-year-old Logan was skilled in bed, twenty-six-year-old, Navy Officer Logan is a Goddamn expert.

"You good?" Logan asks from beside her, propping his hand behind his head and tugging the sheet a little further up over them.

"Fuck, yeah," she says, exhaling heavily, her heart still beating fast in her chest. "Best fucking sex ever."

He grins, turning his head toward her and lifting his thumb to her bottom lip, tracing it lightly. "Where did the dirty mouth come from?"

She breathes out a small laugh. "Oh, it's always been here, I was just suppressing it. Now seemed like an appropriate time to stop."

She turns onto her side to face him, and he does the same. They lock gazes for a moment, before Logan smiles tenderly and reaches out to touch the flowers that are now clinging to her hair for dear life.

"How I love all the flowers in your hair," he quotes again. "As you're lying here in my arms."

Veronica covers her hand with his, then retrieves one of the flowers and with a mischievous grin, pushes it behind his ear.

"Thanks a lot." He scowls.

"Well, I can't be the only one with flowers in my hair," she says. "That wouldn't be fair."

End