It was already late when Veronica turned up at the door of the Neptune Grand's presidential suite in pursuit of her mostly AWOL boyfriend. Unfortunately she only managed to find his best friend (a little drunk) playing video games, which he neglected long enough to tell her that said boyfriend was away and no he didn't have any idea when he would be back.

Veronica invited herself in, deciding to stay a while, see if she could catch Duncan on his way back. Logan shrugged, turning back to his digital catharsis—hammering at the buttons with an intensity that almost scared Veronica. A glass containing mostly soda sat next to him and a green and white striped straw was gripped tightly between Logan's teeth as he concentrated on the screen. When Veronica leaned past him to pick up the glass he flinched slightly—caught off guard by her proximity—and she brought the glass to her face, sniffing quickly before a grimace covered her features.

"Rum?" she asked, a hint of disappointment coloring her tone.

"Vodka," he corrected. "You need to learn your spirits."

Veronica's grimace returned as she replied, "I hope never to become that acquainted with them."

He shrugged, still refusing to turn his attention towards her. "Your loss," he decided dully.

Veronica rolled her eyes, not letting him rest, she continued, "You do know it's not even three p.m., right?"

"Sure, but it's night in England."

"Nice to know you abide by their time zone as well as their legal age limit."

Finally Logan turned his gaze on her, his eyes sparkling with nonchalance. "I'm all about consistency," he agreed with a smirk.

The air around the television set seemed to shimmer through her sleep-blurred vision and Veronica rubbed the back of her hand roughly across her eyes.

"You know, you could leave," Logan suggested, flicking the channels aimlessly.

"No." She nodded resolutely. "He's got to come home eventually."

"Unless he doesn't."

"Right," she agreed mindlessly. "Wait, huh?"

"Maybe he's being a stop-out." Logan shrugged at the glare Veronica directed toward him.

"He'll be back," she decided firmly.

"Why are you so set on seeing him anyway, call him."

"He's not taking my calls," she admitted quietly.

"But you guys are still dating, right?"

"Just as soon as he stops avoiding me."

Logan watched the determination on Veronica's face for a moment before rolling his eyes in opposition to all the teen angst in his hotel suite. "I'm going to bed."

"Wait," she called after him.

"What?" he asked, exasperated and irritated as he stopped half way to his room.

"You can't just leave me here."

"Because…" Logan prompted.

"I don't live here, for one."

"Then before you have to bother thinking of a second reason: go home."

"Just another hour," she asked sweetly.

"No," he dismissed. "You know where the door is."

Veronica's lips set into a tight line of annoyance as she threw back a tight, "fine," before letting herself fall back into the couch. Remote glued firmly between her fingers, Veronica changed the channel as she heard the shuffle and thus of Logan's door being closed. Sighing she looked to her cell phone in vain, considering another call to Duncan and wondering how many were required before she could be done for stalking.

It was thirty minutes before Logan's door creaked open and he padded out barefoot in pajama pants and a t-shirt, his hair a little mussed from undressing and his eyes bleary from lack of sleep.

Turning around on the couch Veronica greeted him brightly, "Hi!"

"Why are you still here?" He asked, heading for the fridge via the mini bar. At her disapproving look he defended, "Nightcap."

"Of vodka and O.J.?"

"Why are you still here?"

"Told you, I'm waiting for Duncan."

"Veronica," Logan spoke very slowly, "it's 2 a.m. I think it's safe to assume he won't be back tonight."

"Well, where is he then?"

Logan's eyes widened as he replied, "Again, I don't know."

"Maybe he just went to visit his parents for the weekend, is there a note?"

"Unless I'm blind, no." Logan gestured to the blank fridge in front of him.

"I'll check his room," she offered.

By the time Veronica got back Logan was plastered into the couch, drink in one hand, remote in the other, his feet resting heavily on the coffee table before him.

"I couldn't see anything, will you phone him?"

Logan looked round, lazily. "Are you crazy?"

"Please, Logan. He could be in trouble."

"Or he could be asleep because it's after two in the morning and most people turn their phones off so that people like you won't call them."

"Your phone was on."

"If I call him will you go home?"

There was a hesitation in her voice that made Logan suspicious when she agreed, "Sure, as long as we find out where he is."

Logan peeled himself off the couch with great effort and an exaggerated sigh, heading back to his bedroom to retrieve his cell.

Moving back through the door, brandishing the small object in the air for Veronica to see, he brought the cell to his ear with a quick tap of speed dial three.

After three rings the call cut to Duncan's voicemail.

"Hey, man, it's Logan. You disappeared, you okay? Gimme a call if you're still alive. Later, D."

Hanging up he turned his gaze back to Veronica, inquiring, "Satisfied?"

"Very," she replied happily. "Now we just have to wait."

"Are you kidding me?"

Apparently Veronica was not joking and was in fact completely serious about waiting with Logan in the hotel suite for Duncan to call them back. This was evidenced by her settling back down onto the couch and again changing the channel Logan had previously chosen.

"If you don't let me go to bed I'm going to fall asleep here," he grumbled.

"Don't worry," Veronica reassured. "I'll just kick you."

"Yeah, you're good at that," he mumbled beneath his breath.

"So…" she piped up when the awkward silence became just a little too awkward. "Got any food in this place? Or is it all just liquor and juice?"

"I think there are some stale chips in the kitchen, maybe a packet of crackers."

"Mmm, dry crackers. You guys sure know how to live."

"You know what the real trick is?" he asked sleepily, trying to quell a yawn.

"What's that?"

"You see that phone over there?" He gestured across the room and Veronica tilted her head in acknowledgement. "It calls room service."

"I left my wallet and willingness to pay for overpriced food in my other pants," she sighed, faux-disappointment clear.

"Lucky it all gets charged to Duncan's card then," he shook off a light smile, despite himself.

"And you don't feel guilty that Duncan is both housing and feeding you?"

Logan shrugged dismissively. "He can afford it."

"So can you," she pointed out.

"So charge it to mine. I'm sure you memorized at least one of my credit cards somewhere along the way."

"Black AmEx and Visa," she grinned.

"So go crazy. The more you're eating the less you're talking and the more I can sleep."

"You don't want anything?" she asked, heading toward the phone.

Logan shook his head before deciding, "Yeah, get them to restock the mini bar."

Veronica rolled her eyes at him in disgust as she quickly dialed the number next to the phone and Logan curled himself into a ball at the end of the couch, his eyes closing instantly.

Logan woke up to a catastrophe of dishes and cartons littered around him. Looking up he saw Veronica perched by his feet, licking the last dollop of chocolate sauce off the back of the spoon in her mouth. He groaned a little at the mere sight of food, feeling his face turn a pale green.

"Feeling a little rough?" she asked with faux-sweetness, instantly pissing Logan off.

"What time is it?" he grumbled.

Flicking a quick glance to her watch and back Veronica replied, "Four thirty-seven, a.m."

"Great," he grimaced. "Get me some water?" he asked, his voice pained.

"Get your own water. It's the clear liquid next to your vodka, not the rum."

Logan winced as he pulled himself off the couch awkwardly, stretching out his crushed limbs as he muttered, "Yeah, I know what water is, thanks. Luckily I passed kindergarten."

"First time? Wow, your parents must be so proud—" Veronica cut herself off, realizing too late what she had said.

"Yeah, we had a big party. Was great, no one died."

"Logan, I'm so sorry. It's just late and I…" she trailed off.

"Forgot? Lucky you." He nodded softly.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, a distressed note to her voice.

"Don't be, he's not, why should you?" Logan tried to keep the bitterness from his voice but it was difficult as his sleep-slurred words betrayed him.

A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by Veronica's fidgeting and Logan's soft slurps from the ice cold water bottle, the plastic sticking slightly to his lips with each gulp. The water burned too cold down his throat and eventually Veronica's voice floated over to him hesitantly.

"Want some?" she proffered a giant plate of chow mein in his direction.

"Water chestnuts?" he asked.

Veronica mad a face. "Ergh, I picked them out."

"Good," Logan affirmed as he reached forward to grab a fork from in front of him while Veronica shuffled around to sit next to him.

They sat quietly for a while, picking at the remaining Chinese food amicably before Logan asked, "You want a t-shirt or something? Those things don't look too comfortable." He gestured to her skin-tight jeans.

"Logan Echolls, trying to get me out of my pants again?" she stopped herself short, blushing as Logan averted his gaze from her. "I think I left some pajamas in Duncan's room, but thanks," she finished as Logan stabbed a bean sprout particularly viciously.

Veronica swallowed another mouthful of noodles as she decided, "I think I might just go change into them now."

"Okay," Logan nodded. "I'm going to bed."

"Logan—" she started warningly.

"Veronica, it's five in the morning, Duncan's not coming home."

"Fine," she sighed. "I'm just going to crash here if that's okay, I'm too tired to drive."

"And you would leave if it wasn't?"

"'Night, Logan."

"Good morning, Veronica."

"Smartass."

"Nice ass too," he smirked, ducking the cushion she threw in his direction as he stumbled sleepily toward his room.

A rustling sounded at the door, causing Logan to lift his head—curiosity getting the better of him. Veronica stood in the doorway, clutching to his door frame with one small hand, her body barely covered in tank top and sleep shorts.

After a moment, he drawled lazily, "You know there are two beds and a couch in this suite."

"Uh huh," she mumbled blankly, nodding while not really paying any attention to Logan.

"So…" he prompted, sitting up in bed.

"So, Duncan just called me."

"Yeah?"

Veronica moved from the door, coming to stand next to Logan's bed. After a moment she perched herself on the edge, staring at her own hands.

"He has flu," she stumbled over the words carefully with a numb tongue. "You're choking him with room service soup as we speak…"

His fingers drifted into her hair of their own accord. "Shame he didn't tell me about that."

"Check your phone."

Logan leaned across the bed, retrieving his cell from the table. Right there on the screen was a message proclaiming three missed calls, all with accompanying voicemail.

"You okay?" he asked obligingly.

"For once, really," she swallowed.

Logan seemed unmoved by her words. "You don't look great."

"Thanks," she bit out on a shuddering breath as she tried to calm her lungs to take small breaths.

"That's not what I—" Logan backtracked.

Veronica cut in, "He's with Meg."

"I heard she woke up," he admitted, his voice hoarse and quiet.

Veronica nodded very lightly.

Silence pervaded the space between them and suddenly it was very awkward for Logan to have Veronica on his bed. The foot of space between them was charged with potential and after a moment of watching her downward gaze and fidgeting fingers he cleared his throat deliberately, claiming, "There's a bottle of room service tequila with your name on it in the fridge," he nodded towards the door.

"I don't…" Veronica trailed off, shaking her head. He knew she would drink if she wanted to; it was just an automatic response to say she didn't. Too many things seemed to come to Veronica automatically these days.

"Come on." He pulled back the covers, thankfully clad in boxers, grabbing a t-shirt from the back of the chair next to his bed.

The bottle was heavy in her hand, the glass thick between her fingers as she accepted it from Logan, hesitatingly.

"Drinking away his money isn't going to make me feel better," she pointed out, resisting the shot glass he had placed in front of her.

"No," he agreed, "but either you'll drink yourself unconscious or fall asleep."

Veronica snorted, knotting and un-knotting her fingers around the bottle left in her grasp. "You're such a charmer."

"Come on, Veronica. I'm going to match you," he offered.

She shook her head disbelievingly. "You just wanted another excuse to drink."

He held her gaze. "I was asleep. And I don't need an excuse to drink." When Veronica's skeptical look did not slide from her face, Logan stood. "Fine," he huffed. "I'll go back to bed and you can sit here—sober—and think about your honest, wonderful boyfriend and Meg."

"I'm sorry," she stopped him with a soft voice. Logan waited for further apology or explanation before he was willing to sit down. "I'm just cranky; it's not your fault.

"A first," he exclaimed dully, not intending any real menace with her words. Before he could sit down, Logan caught himself asking, "Are you cold?"

Veronica's eyebrow automatically shot up in indignation, but she was surprised to find his attention not trained on her breasts, but rather the thin dusting of goose bumps running up her arm.

"A little," she nodded.

He disappeared for a long moment and Veronica was just beginning to think that he had left her for his bed again when Logan appeared behind the couch, his duvet wrapped loosely around his shoulders. Sinking down next to her, he threw most of the heavy fabric over Veronica.

"I couldn't find any blankets, I guess they don't leave linen when they make the beds," he paused, turning to her, "I could call room service."

Veronica merely snuggled deeper into the comforting warmth of the covers, feeling she should be somewhat unnerved, by his familiar smell tucked tight into the fibers, as she inhaled. She inched over, and handed some of the duvet back to him. "This is good," she replied with a quick shake of her head.

"You need anything else?"

"Yeah," she answered quietly, trying to keep her voice from becoming too harsh. "Stop, looking out for me, I know you want to be happy dancing that Duncan slipped up."

"Not really," he admitted.

"You should," she sighed. "I would."

"Difference is, Veronica," Logan kept his gaze pinned firmly before him, refusing to look at her as his clammy fingers grasped the duvet between them; "I really loved you."

The silence that lay thick in the air was almost peaceful, broken by Veronica's soft, anticipatory sighs—her lungs catching on breath as she tried not to cry. "Why couldn't you have just listened to me?" she asked without looking at him, her voice thick with tension.

"Could ask the same, you were too busy pretending that everything was alright—still are."

She swallowed, hard, her own hands now clinging to the fabric that was bringing her less and less comfort. "Things are better."

"For you, maybe."

Veronica didn't say anything else as she reached for and uncapped the forgotten bottle of tequila, taking a painful gulp—her lips wrapped too tightly around the neck—before passing it to Logan.

"She's pregnant," Veronica's voice was no louder than a whisper as the words passed her lips harshly.

"Meg's pregnant?" Logan looked at her incredulously, unable to believe what he had just heard. "You didn't tell me."

Veronica pulled the duvet tightly, defensively. "I don't know why you're surprised, Logan. We're hardly talking buddies anymore."

"You picked me up when I called you," he pointed out, referring to how she had found him in a ditch by the highway.

Veronica shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "You needed someone to pick you up."

"You needed someone to tell," he parried back.

Veronica faltered, desperately trying to avoid looking at Logan, which was difficult considering his proximity to her. "I—I had my own subconscious to mull it over with, thanks anyway."

"Is it Duncan's?" Logan asked suddenly, his face paling at the thought of his best friend as a teen dad—dependable, trustable, honest, reliable Duncan knocking up some girl and dumping her. It shook Logan a little to have his world-view skewed that way.

"Why do you think I'm here?" she asked quietly.

Logan swallowed down the lump in his throat, trying to ease the tension building through him. Clutching the duvet tightly he looked across at her. "I don't know since all of a sudden it seems pretty obvious where he is."

"Maybe you're right," she acknowledged, "maybe I needed someone to tell."

The silence crept back in before Logan let out a short, merciless laugh. "Sure beats the hell out of that plastic horror."

Veronica's eyes widened at the inappropriateness of his comment while Logan gestured to her plastic baby, discarded somewhere near the door.

"Hey," her brow knitted in curiosity, "why aren't you in health?"

"Opted out," he admitted. "Promised Clemmons and Moorehead that I was never, ever planning on passing on my faulty genes and Ms. James agreed that given my 'parental situation' the class might be 'traumatic'," Logan explained, complete with air quotes.

A look of distaste crossed Veronica's face as she asked, "You used that to get out of health class?"

"I'll take my perks where they come."

She was silent for a long time. Back to staring at her hands. Logan wondered if Veronica was thinking about wringing Duncan's neck. If maybe she was plotting however she was going to take him down. If it was a bong in a locker for a joke about her mom then what would she do to the boyfriend who left her for his pregnant ex-girlfriend? Logan wished he could be on Duncan's side about the issue—them against Veronica was so much easier than every man for him or her self.

"Are you okay?" he asked finally, just to cut through the silence.

Her voice was hoarse from disuse when she replied, "I don't know."

"Say something, Veronica. Bitch at me, you enjoy that, just say something."

She looked up plainly. "I did."

"You know what I mean," he argued.

Eventually Veronica spoke, "Even if it's not Duncan's, he knew. And he didn't tell me. And he's been going to see her every day."

"Are you going to break up with him?" Logan knew he shouldn't be asking, but it had never stopped him before.

"Maybe he's already broken up with me," Veronica reminded.

Logan's lips pursed as he agreed, "He's not a fan of confrontation."

"Well, tough luck—I am," Veronica bit out.

"Don't I know it?" Logan stifled a laugh as he shook his head.

She sighed heavily. "I need more tequila."

Logan looked over to the bottle, a small dribble running the sides. "All out," he announced. "Care for a change?"

"What you got in mind?" Veronica's head tilted in question and Logan tried to ignore how endearing it made her look. He had consumed way more than his fair share of alcohol for the night if he was thinking that heartbroken Veronica Mars, disheveled in pajamas looked cute.

"Vintage champagne," he decided. "Whatever's most expensive."

"You're not using your credit card this time are you?" Veronica questioned suspiciously, a small smile drawn across her lips.

"Nope," Logan grinned slyly. "Least he can do is fund your pity party."

"This isn't—okay." She looked over carefully. "Why are you doing this?"

"You're always there," he admitted slowly, much more slowly than he usually spoke, as if he was deliberating over the correct words. "Even when I'm being an ass," he added as an afterthought.

Veronica laughed humorlessly at that, "Usually I'm there being a pain in the ass."

"You're still there," he insisted. "More than I can say for most people… except those guys that keep trying to kill me, but it's not really the same." He shrugged, trying to keep the tone light in opposition to the events of his life—all their lives really.

"Come on, Logan," she argued disbelievingly.

"Hey, that's the truth. That and you interrupted mine."

"Your what?" she asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Pity party," he clarified.

There was a long beat of silence while Veronica huffed out a heavy sigh, trying to relieve some of the tension building in her chest.

"Champagne?" She looked up at him hopefully, trying to change the subject before the entire tone became too morose for her to lift.

Logan smiled down at her, offering, "Italian?"

"And you say you don't understand me," she scoffed.

Logan pulled himself out from under the duvet reluctantly, heading towards the phone. As he began to dial the number he leaned against the counter regarding Veronica. "You never answered me by the way."

"Huh?" she murmured sleepily, tucked under the soft downy fabric with her knees drawn up to her chest on the couch.

"I asked you if you were okay," he reminded.

Veronica nodded, ducking her head to break from his gaze. "And I told you I didn't know."

"So you do remember it." He raised his eyebrows in a self-deprecating expression, locked out from the inner workings of Veronica Mars' mind just like everyone else.

Sensing the tension rebuilding in the room Veronica took a deep gulp of air and continued, "Logan. I can't talk about it right now. Not before I speak to Duncan. It's just—"

Logan just nodded curtly, bringing the ringing phone to his ear to order.

He took a shallow gulp of the rapidly emptying liquor, letting the liquid linger and burn in his mouth before swallowing. Veronica watched carefully as the muscles of his throat contracted tightly around the foreign body of fluid. She closed her eyes for a second trying not to let a flush creep up her cheeks. The champagne was long finished and Logan had started on a new bottle of vodka, she was much more timidly helping.

Out of the blue Veronica spoke. "I want it to be," she admitted. "I want it to be better so that I know this whole past year wasn't a waste."

"I know," he acknowledged, taking another swig from his shallow glass. "Ignorance is bliss."

"So people keep telling me." Veronica was still under the cover, Logan sprawled out on the other end of the couch—now with pajama pants to accompany his boxers and t-shirt.

"Maybe you should start listening," he suggested, testing out the words like they were heavy in his mouth. He didn't feel drunk, but his tongue was tripping him constantly. Logan felt clumsy around Veronica. "Not everybody wants the truth."

"That's too bad." She sat up straighter, grabbing her glass from the coffee table and taking a large sip. It caught in her throat a little and Veronica's face blushed a raw red as she coughed against the sensation. "If the truth's out there I'm going to find it," she finished as she recovered.

Logan swirled the remaining liquid round and round in his glass, pushing the carton of orange juice toward Veronica as he mumbled, "Really looking to earn that 'dick' title?"

"Excuse me?" she looked up, eyes flared in anger.

Logan smiled to himself as he explained, "Private Dick."

"Logan—" She could hear the bitter edge to his tone and Veronica wasn't willing to go there right at that moment. She would much rather finish the rest of the vodka, fall asleep on the couch and take out all her aggression on Duncan when he finally came home—if he hadn't skipped the country with Meg by now.

Sucking in a deep anticipatory breath she braced herself as Logan started his tirade against her. His eyes burned with hurt and regret, glazed from the alcohol he had already consumed. Veronica swallowed tightly, she didn't really want to deal with the aftermath of Logan—ignoring that they had ever had a relationship was much easier.

She hadn't wanted to be his girlfriend when she broke up with him, but that didn't mean that she wanted to be his ex anymore than that. The fallout was too hard to swallow.

"No, really, Veronica. Does it make anything better? Knowing I had no alibi? We broke up. Knowing I burned down the pool? We broke up again. Knowing Duncan's with Meg right now? What's that gonna do, Veronica? Make you feel good? Gonna break up with him too? Do you just feel so damn vindicated—"

His words were cut off as Veronica's hand snaked up his neck, pulling Logan close as her lips covered his. His mouth opened in shock, Veronica's tongue pushing in to move over the tender flesh inside—her hands tilting his head up as she kneeled over him on the couch, the duvet pooled around her legs.

"At least I know," she breathed out as they broke apart.

"Sometimes knowing isn't all that fun."

"But it's real," she defended.

Logan breathed out audibly. "So what's this?" He gestured between them to where her hand still rested with a warm, solid pressure on his shoulder.

"It's… something," she answered vaguely.

"Something good or something bad?"

"That depends on whether or not you're going to kiss me again," she smiled, determined to keep the waver of rejected from her voice, trying to forget that they were both a little drunk and overwhelmed. Her eyes glowed with the possibility of tears and her bottom lip shook just before Logan touched his tongue to it, coaxing her mouth open as he tilted her head back.

"You can't just bounce between us," he argued with no real determination. His breath mimicked her actions as it blew back at him from her warm mouth, still scant centimeters from his own.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but I know what I'm doing."

"What you're doing or who you're doing?" he asked calmly.

"Logan? Let me have this, please," she let out on a shallow breath.

"What? Closure? Sympathy sex? What do you want, Veronica?"

Her eyes were cloudy as she pulled back. "You."

"Now I know that's a lie 'cause you already test drove this model and found it to be too bumpy a ride."

Her breath shuddered out painfully as Veronica tried not to cry. Logan noticed the tears welling in her eyes and automatically drew his hand out to touch her gently, by her shoulder.

"Come on, Veronica. Don't cry, please."

She was pulled against his chest before he knew it, inhaling his shirt with each of her hiccupped sobs – her chest vibrating with pain against his. Once her tears were pooled and gone, the sobs subsided to sniffles all that was left was a warm body wrapped up beside him and soft hair tickling his face.

Logan pulled back slightly, prompting Veronica to look up. Her gaze was electric, her face flushed, eyes raw and open, lips pouting and swollen.

"Sorry," was squashed between them as she once again grasped his mouth with hers, pulling at him with her lips. A hint of desperation peppered her kisses. Her urgency building as Logan slipped a hand under her thin tank top, running up her ribcage to brush against her breast—unhindered by a bra. She gasped and the intake of breath made him dizzy with anticipation.

She was needy and he shouldn't but alcohol had dulled his—mostly faulty anyway—sense of reason and Logan relished the contented sigh that she released as he cupped her right breast fully, Veronica's nipple pressing against his palm like a plea.

"No." Logan pulled back; eyeing Veronica's flushed face and frustrated gaze.

"Logan," she breathed anxiously.

He swallowed tightly, his hands clenching into fists as he extracted himself from her, trying desperately not to grasp hold of her again. "Don't you dare use me, Veronica," he gritted out.

"I…" She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to gather her bearings against the feelings imprinted on her body by his hands.

She could feel the creeping ache soaking into her muscles from his insistent touch, for his part Logan looked as if he would cry if he didn't allow himself to touch her again. She swallowed—hard—grasping for a hand that was wrapped tightly around himself. Veronica sucked in a short breath, wanting to replace his arms with hers without talking about it.

She looked hurt and she didn't know why, because to be perfectly honest part of Veronica probably was using Logan. She had dumped him when it was convenient for her, and she was picking him up again—also at her convenience. Her whims were his cue to jump and not ask why. But she wanted him—right at that moment—and for once it seemed like enough.

When she kissed him again it was sweeter. She was insistent, a slow, treacly stroking of his tongue—the kiss deep and dark and thick. It was an achingly slow, sloe-black exploration of his mouth as she pushed closer and closer to him, trying to rid all the space between.

Her alcoholic gaze buzzed with his proximity and Veronica felt Logan's hands slide down her body again, pulling her too him—their movements a rocking, grinding compromise over clothing.

When she was gasping into his mouth, Logan panting heavily with his fingers hooked under the short-shorts she had intended to sleep in, Veronica's chest tightened. The alcohol and anticipation making her dizzy as the heat from her burned a groan from deep in his throat, eliciting a breathing moan from her own mouth—the sound falling against his tongue.

"Not here," she shuddered involuntarily as his fingers worked past her panties and pressed firmly against her slick flesh.

Letting his head fall back, Logan groaned loudly in frustration as he slowly withdrew his hand from her, gripping her hips as they panted into each other's mouths—Veronica momentarily unable to move from him and the solid warmth he provided.

The friction she caused—shimmying off of him—made Logan close his eyes and grit his teeth. Only opening them again when a small hand wrapped around one of his, disheveled Veronica Mars dragging him toward his bedroom with aching thighs and swollen lips.

The sheets felt weighted on her skin when he dragged them to cover her. Veronica's body tingled, lost in a heavy afterglow as she allowed her limbs to sink into the mattress—matted hair fanning out underneath her. On the other side of the bed Logan lay in a similar position and Veronica shivered down her spine at the same time as one of his hands snaked up to play through the ends of her damp hair.

A light breath escaped her mouth as Veronica shifted, turning so that she could see Logan properly. "You think if I sweat out all the alcohol I won't get a hangover."

"I wish," he muttered in response rolling his eyes.

"Was worth a try," she reasoned. Veronica smiled warmly, moving until she was pressed side to side against his body, her chin resting on his shoulder as the hand in her hair moved to anchor her around the waist.

"Are you—" he murmured.

Veronica cut off a laugh. "You ask me if I'm okay and we've officially entered an 80s teen movie."

Logan frowned good-naturedly, squeezing her waist lightly. "But they always cut before the good parts."

"And if you don't quit it with the clichés then so will I." She grinned beautifully, flashing white teeth at him as Logan rolled his eyes again.

"So this is how it's gonna be huh?" he asked wryly. "You calling the shots?"

"Pretty much," she nodded her agreement, "any complaints?"

He grinned back, "Hell no."

"Good." She moved to straddle him, mouth moving down to his neck. Her lips closed down over the sensitive skin, lavishing it with hot, sticky kisses as she worked her way up to his jaw, finally making it to his mouth. Logan moaned at the instant heat of her mouth opening for him, one hand twisting firmly into her hair.

"God, Veronica," he groaned lightly. "What the hell are we doing?"

Her lips left him and Logan mentally kicked himself as she pulled herself up, arms wrapping across her chest.

"Should I make a quip about that health class coming in handy now?" she asked trying to keep the waver out of her voice.

"How about you tell me what you're thinking instead?"

Veronica sighed as she lay back down on top of him, partly hiding her face in the crook of his neck as she relax into his grip. "I thought I was the girl," she mumbled.

"You wear the butch boots." He nudged her gently.

Veronica twisted so that he could see her face. "I'm tired of being hurt."

He deadpanned, "Not a fan myself."

"I'm serious, Logan. I'm sick of lies and accusations and secrets, I just want something to be easy."

"Let it be then. You're not exactly known for letting things go, Veronica."

"I…"

"Veronica," he kissed her, delaying the rest of his sentence, "what do you want?"

She hesitated. "It's that easy?" she smiled nervously. "I don't know… this. Just, not like summer, not just pretending." Veronica swallowed against the pressure building in her throat, blinking firmly to push back any tears that were threatening to gather. "I've tried so hard to be who I think people want me to be and I just… I can't anymore."

"I just want you to be you," he murmured, stroking her cheekbone, voice dazed with sex.

"I know," she breathed out awkwardly, nodding, "me too."

He leaned up to catch her lips sweetly with his, fuelling the soft ache throughout her body as she pressed closer to him.

"I missed you," she admitted into his mouth, softly.

"You won't fit your butch boots if you keep that up," he smiled against her, pulling back enough to brush the bangs from her face. Veronica's face was such a flurry of emotions that Logan blinked suddenly, running the pad of his thumb over her quivering bottom lip, comfortingly.

Biting her lip to stop the nervous movement, Veronica swallowed hard before she replied seriously, "My boots are not butch," her voice thick.

"I could get a second opinion." He raised one eyebrow disbelievingly, tucking his hands behind his head as he flopped back into the mattress.

Veronica's mouth opened in indignation as she pulled herself to sit straight, her legs still stretched across him. "Come up here and say that," she dared.

Logan merely chuckled, pulling her down for a kiss as he assured her, "I'll come any way you want me to."

Veronica blushed profusely, pressing her lips together tightly as she wiggled out of his grasp. "You're such an ass."

Logan rolled his eyes as Veronica tried not to laugh, her eyes brilliant with her amusement. "Why don't you come down here and say that," he retaliated.

Veronica cocked her head as she replied smartly, "If anyone's going down it's you."

Logan groaned a little as he caught the double meaning, slinging an arm across his face as Veronica grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it over herself. Veronica smirked in his direction as she groped around under the various pieces of clothing to find her underwear.

"Logan?"

"Uh huh?" he mumbled from under his arm, his other hand suspiciously absent from above the covers.

"Where's my underwear?"

"On the floor?" he hazarded a guess.

"Did you hide them?"

He sighed, finally opening his eyes and moving his arm to regard her properly. "Yes, they're stuffed in my pillow right now—later I'm going to try them on and sing show songs."

"Disturbing as that image is, I'd really like to find them so I can refrain from driving home commando."

Logan groaned again, burying his face in the pillow as he squirmed a little. "You come over here a while and I promise to help you find them," he swore.

She cocked an eyebrow at his request. "I go over there and I won't be driving home at all," she pointed out, all too aware of his plans for her—not that she would have been particularly opposed.

"Would that be such a crime? Come back to bed and I'll let you drive stick, it's much more fun."

"Is it now?" She refused to turn back to him, continuing her search around the bedroom.

"Come on, Veronica. You're forcing me to use really tired clichés here."

Veronica laughed—the sound warm and soft, so completely different to what Logan had become used to hearing from her mouth, it was comforting to have that back. "I'm not a blow-up doll, Logan."

He breathed out heavily. "Veronica—" his voice broke on the last vowel and finally finding her underwear stuffed under a chair, Veronica pulled them on, moving to the side of the bed to press a quick kiss to his face as her hand cradled his head.

Logan's arms automatically came out, grabbing her waist as he pulled her to straddle him—grinding up against her as she reciprocated, the soft fabric of her panties rasping against his dick in a torturous fashion.

Panting, he extracted her mouth from his. "If you're not going to finish this—" he gasped out, trying to deepen his shallow breathing.

Veronica's hot, moist hand moved quickly to wrap around him, squeezing tightly as Logan let out a strangled moan, almost choking himself. Before she knew it, Veronica was flat on her back beneath him, Logan's mouth heavy and insistent on her own before he pulled back, grabbing her hand and dragging her from the bed.

Slightly breathless she tried to stop the mild head rush she received from standing. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"Shower, we're sticking together," he laughed. He turned to face her, one hand sliding over her neck as he kissed her again. Veronica relented to the kiss but a hesitance spread over her features and her arms wrapped around herself over his t-shirt when Logan released her.

"I think we're officially past shy," he observed, stroking one hand through her hair comfortingly as Veronica smiled—grasping him to her as she buried her face in his chest.

"Soap does sound good about now."

Her skin was warm and damp from the shower, the cool air circulating from the conditioner drying her as the towel wrapped around her was pulled tighter—Logan's hands spanning her ribcage affectionately. She shivered as his warm breath cut through the chilly air around her shoulder, letting his head fall forward until lip tipped up against her. He mumbled, sending vibrations through her from the point of contact, "You cold?"

She hummed lightly in the back of her throat at the sensations he was sending through her as Logan's mouth opened against the base of her throat, a hot, wet tongue slicking against her pulse. After a moment Veronica's hands came up between them to push at his bare chest.

"Get off," she mumbled against his lips.

Logan cocked an eyebrow toward her, "I'm trying." He grinned as Veronica forcibly extracted herself from his grip, taking a step back. She watched him severely until her smile cracked unstoppably across her face.

"I don't have time for another round, Logan, my dad has no idea where I am…" trailing off she continued hesitantly, "I still need to talk to Duncan."

Logan's lips set into a tight line at the sound of his best friend's name, he nodded tensely.

"So what are we doi—"

"I don't know," she cut him off. At his accusatory look she finished, "I lied."

"But this—" He took a step forward, toward her. "—this is okay, right?"

"This is very okay." She nodded against him as his hands once more found their way to span her waist, comfortably. "Even if we don't know what this is."

"And that's okay?"

Veronica looked up to him slight adoration in her eyes before she ruined it with a punch to his arm. "I lied, Echolls. You are so the girl."

"Oh, well don't stop right before you strip me of all masculinity," he groused.

She patted his shoulder comfortingly. "I would love to stay and quell your raging insecurities, but reality calls."

"So I just have to sit here with my raging… insecurities until you get back?" he looked as if he might actually pout.

"You'll survive." She rolled her eyes.

The mood was broken as Logan watched her intently. "Shouldn't this be…?"

"Some big thing?" she finished for him, taking a deep calming breath.

Logan nodded. "Are you going to tell your dad?" he asked quietly, trying to keep the rejection out of his voice.

Veronica shifted uncomfortably as she replied, "Are you going to tell Duncan?"

"Are you going to tell Duncan?" Logan shot back.

She tensed automatically, drawing away from him. "It's none of his business," she decided firmly, throwing Duncan's sentiment back at him.

"You're still his girlfriend, Veronica."

"Not really." She shrugged self-deprecatingly. "I was just a replacement—which is nice if you like irony."

"Never been a fan," Logan responded, unable to wipe off the remains of his wry smile.

"You don't seem to be a fan of much."

He grinned smugly as he replied, "I can think of a few things."

"Things… positions…?"

"People," he clarified.

"Really?" she arched an eyebrow as she bit her lip to keep from smiling.

Logan's head tilted a little as he corrected, "Well, 'person' really."

Veronica smiled, hiding her face from him as she proceeded to collect her sleep clothes from the floor and quickly made moves toward Duncan's room to change into street clothes. When she reappeared Logan was fully dressed, lounging on the couch again.

She nodded quietly, heading toward the door of the suite. "Well, I'll see you around, okay?"

He seemed a little hesitant but nodded his agreement all the same, moving from his position to meet her in the middle of the room.

Sensing his reluctance to the arrangement she tried to keep her voice soft. Logan had been used by a lot of people but it didn't make her feel guilty enough to jump from one relationship into another. It was Veronica's New Year's resolution to stop that. "I just don't want this to be like summer. A lot of the summer sucked," she reminded him.

"Not the parts with you."

"Now you're just sweet-talking," she teased, a palm pressing against the side of his face as she reached up for a quick kiss. "And I really have to go, find—"

Just as Veronica opened her mouth to finish the sentence the front door clicked green and swung open, a disheveled, exhausted figure appearing on the other side.

"—Duncan," she gasped.

He took in the sight of Logan's hand resting on the curve of Veronica's waist, the way her hand pulled back from the boy hastily, flushed cheeks paling quickly.

There was thick silence throughout the room as Duncan closed the door behind him and the three stood, alignments chosen, soaking in the situation.

"We need to talk," Duncan finally decided.

Veronica nodded dully. "Yeah, we do."