Okay - here it is folks! The culmination of hundreds of hours of work and hundreds of thousands of words.

I want to thank nevertothethird for her amazing pinch-hitting beta at the last minute - and mysilverylining for all of her beta skills and support until until the end.

I'm humbled that people were actually interested in reading this thing, much less invested in the outcome. And I've gained invaluable writing experience and knowledge through the process - especially from those of you who have given me detailed and constructive praise/criticism. I appreciate is so much and it's definitely the reason I was able to reach this final milestone.

So, I promised fluff, smut and ridiculousness and - since I'm a woman who keeps my word - I'm giving it to you in spades! Try not to slip on the marshmallow on your way out!

Two and a half years later.

Veronica stood nervously at the top of the aisle, more nervous than she'd been at her own wedding. "Is it everything you dreamed it would be?"

A laugh, sandpaper-rough, came tumbling out of Weevil. "Nah, the real question is: is it everything you dreamed it would be?" He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, as they both surveyed the room.

"More." She smiled at him, then straightened the collar on his motorcycle jacket without asking. "So much more."

He tipped his head back and sighed, looking distinctly like a ten year old weathering his mother's preening. "I thought the purpose of this was to look at shitty as possible?"

"The room. The room needs to look shitty." She zipped his jacket up halfway, then all the way, frowning at the way it hung at his hips. "You need to look your best. It's still your wedding day, after all."

"My woman always thinks I look good."

Ignoring him completely, Veronica shook her head and unzipped the jacket again. "Better open. Better view of your wife-beater."

He pulled her arms away from his clothes. "Do me a favor and don't say 'wife beater' in front of the cameras. They can edit this shit however they want, make me look like Al Capone, if they wanted to."

"First of all, Al Capone gave a surprising amount of money to charity. And secondly, we kind of have this thing rigged, so I wouldn't lose any sleep over how you're going to be portrayed." She pulled her hand free of his and straightened his jacket collar. "There. Perfect."

"Yeah. Perfect." Weevil nodded stiffly, his tight smile a parody of the one reflected back at him. "This is exactly how I dreamed my wedding day would go."

"You dreamed about your wedding day when you were just a tiny cholo?" Veronica's eyes lit up with mirth, there was blood in the water. "Like, did you lay on top of one of the wrecked cars in Angel's lot, look up at the stars and wish for a future filled with black leather and white lace?"

He groaned, pulling away from her. "Sounds like you're describing a late 80's White Snake video."

"You should be flattered by all the attention, Eli," Keith said, appearing at the top of the aisle. "I doubt she spent more than ten minutes planning her own wedding, but she's been micromanaging this thing like it's the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel."

"You're never going to get over the fact that we had a courthouse wedding, are you?"

"Nope. Especially when you could have had something as grand as this for yourself."

The room attendants, dressed in green tartan kilts with shamrock print pocket squares in their jackets, sat the last of the straggling guests and took their seats.

"Well, I paid for it. So, it's kind of like it's mine?" She tipped her hand.

Where is the bagpipe player? He's late.

Weevil quirked a brow at her. "Thought you forced your old man to pay for it."

"Me?" Keith held his hands up. "I have nothing to do with this circus."

"Not you, old man. Her other 'old man'," he said, using air quotes.

"We have a joint bank account," Veronica said.

"Well," Weevil shifted on his feet, adorably nervous, "...thanks. Even if you did it for all the wrong reasons."

"Only some of them were the wrong reasons." Veronica took in the sight of the candy-colored donkey piñatas hanging high in the air above the end of every pew. "The pleasure is all mine Weevil. Believe me."

"On that selfless note, I believe I'm needed in the back." Keith squeezed through them, clapping Weevil on the shoulder as he passed. "Good luck, Eli."

Weevil turned to her. "You really okay with your dad walking Molly down the aisle?"

"I'm kind of the reason her own dad's not here to do it," she said, averting her eyes.

"Come on." Weevil balked. "Shooting somebody in the face in front of a cop and a federal agent is the reason Cormac ain't here. That, and the 500 pound book your dad threw at him. Guy's got more murder charges against him than Ted Bundy."

Veronica watched her own father shake hands with the priest and sent a silent thank you to the universe for having been born to a man like him. "Do you think she's okay with it?"

"Tell you the truth..." Weevil ran one hand over the top of his head. "Even as a kid, I doubt she expected him to be out of jail long enough to walk her down the aisle. So - you know - no harm no foul."

Behind them, the nervous clacking of heels scraped the floor. Like a show poodle crossing linoleum.

"Two minutes for the groom," Madison barked, not bothering to conceal the sour look on her face.

Her stark black, tailored suit looked incongruous against the garish decor of the room.

"Plus," Weevil smirked, twirling a finger in the air between Madison and the environment around them, "Molly thinks all of this is fucking hilarious."

Determination bubbled in Veronica's chest, burning through her like heartburn. She leaned in close. "You ain't seen nothing yet."

At the sound of Veronica's voice, Madison's head spun around like Medusa's, all fangs and ire. "All of the NOT important people need to go."

"You're still here," Veronica shot back, sweetly, as she rearranged the giant ruffles on her kelly green bridesmaid's dress.

Madison took a deep breath, gearing up for a fight, but was derailed immediately by the presence of the television cameras, which trailed her everywhere. Instead, a pained smile seized her face. "We're about to start, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to please take your seat."

"Of course." Veronica leaned in and touched her fingers to Madison's forearm. "Just want to say, I think you're doing a fabulous job. The decorations are just...something. I think this is going to be an affair to remember."

Madison rolled her eyes and walked away without comment.

"Uh-oh." Veronica affected a pout. "I don't think she likes me very much, Weevil."

"That just means you're good people." He kissed her cheek, taking the opportunity to whisper in her ear. "Hope you're getting your money's worth with this."

She laughed inwardly as Madison tried unsuccessfully to communicate with Lettie, who was pretending valiantly not to understand a word of English. "So far, the ROI has been stellar."

"Just cue the goddamn music, already." Madison snapped at her put-upon, male-assistant, Brian.

He mumbled 'bitch' rather audibly under his breath as soon as she left, then cued the mariachi band huddled in the corner and shot Veronica a conspiratorial look.

Something tells me the ratings for this episode are going to be through the roof.

As soon as the strains of the Mexican hat dance song started up, Weevil took a deep breath and wiped his palms on the front of his jeans. "Guess that's me?"

"Via con dios, my friend." She straightened his collar one more time and gave him a little push toward the aisle before circling around to the front row, to get an unobstructed view of the action.

As the ceremony ended. guests filed out into the lobby for 'cocktails'.

Veronica lifted a shot glass filled with tequila and toasted the happy couple, then (as instructed by Molly's male cousins), dropped it into a frosty mug of ale and tried to pound it down in one go. She only made it about two sips in, before she had to set it down on a nearby table, beer foam tickling the end of her nose. "I don't understand how this is a thing that people drink willingly."

"You'll get the hang of it, small fry," Molly's beefy cousin Joey said, before picking up Veronica's beer and drowning himself with the rest.

"Sláinte mhaith!" Joey's older brother, Ciran, whom Veronica suspected was a cutting room floor character from 'Good Will Hunting', slapped her on the back so hard she skittered forward a few inches. "Go hard or go home, Mars!"

She held her hands up in surrender. "I'm going home."

The men booed her soundly as she retreated, but she didn't dare turn around. If she were lucky, she'd be able to avoid relatives from both sides of the wedding party - who seemed to be taking the 'open bar' policy as a personal dare – until the evening's end.

These people are so sloppy and unmanageable. I've never been prouder of myself.

A few feet away from Veronica, Celeste Kane slicked a lock of fire-engine red hair back into place and aimed a practiced smile at the roving camera man.

"Why am I here again?" she asked nobody in particular, through clenched teeth.

Upon noticing the socialite, one of Molly's coworkers at the Stix did a double-take, and wiped out in the middle of the floor, nearly taking a vase filled with green, plastic shamrocks with her. The room erupted in applause, drawing the cameras away.

CW let loose an uncharacteristic laugh. "I owed a favor to a friend. They wanted this event to get as much press as possible. Figured having a Kane at the party would ensure that people paid attention."

"I hope it was worth it," she said, exasperated, before wrinkling her nose at a tin cooler filled with various Mexican beer bottles. "Is that all there is to drink around here?"

Overhearing their exchange, Veronica grabbed two shots of tequila and two lemon wedges off a passed tray and handed one to Celeste. "Ask, and you shall receive."

"This is the friend," Celeste said flatly, before turning to look at her drink. "Who else in the world could get CW to drag me to this Mescal-induced nightmare come to life?"

"Come on, Celeste." Veronica nudged the other woman's glass with her own. "I would have figured if anybody could appreciate a good revenge story, it would have to be you."

A bemused expression crossed her face. "Who uses a wedding as a revenge tactic?"

"Got to hit 'em where they live."

Without a pause in her unimpressed look, Celeste drank the shot. "Remind me never to get married again in Neptune."

"Certainly, darling." With a sideways glance, CW lifted Veronica's glass from her fingers and handed it to Celeste. "Better keep these coming if you expect her to stay through hors d'oeuvres."

"Oh, but we're having BBQ chicken nachos!" Veronica said, appropriating a cheerleader's squeal. "The chef tells me they're a 'can't miss'."

I am actually excited for the nachos.

Celeste downed the fresh shot in her hand and pointed to the bar. "I need a real drink. 15 minutes until we leave, Clarence, or you're sleeping alone tonight."

Veronica stifled a snort as she watched Celeste trying to duck greetings from some of Weevil's more colorful relatives.

"Did you make them all dress like that?" CW asked, smirking around his beer.

"Make them?" She pretended to think, "No. Though I may have suggested that those who wore the loudest colors may get most airtime."

"Devious." He shook his head. "Still sure you don't want to do security work for me? You know you have an open invitation."

"You could always come work for me." Stealing the beer from his hand, she took a long swig. "With Weevil gone on his honeymoon, I'm booked solid for the next month. I couldn't really use a leg man."

"Thanks, but I'm not interested in being your 'leg man'. However, I am quite serious about throwing some work your way."

"Keep talking."

"There's an intellectual property theft I need you to look into." CW grabbed the bottle back from her and finished it off.

"For you, I'll clear my schedule."

"Yes you will." His eyes slid over to the bar where Celeste was nursing a glass of something amber. "I'm going to be paying for tonight for the next three days."

"Consider our accounts balanced." She winked at CW before turning to wander the room, checking on her progress.

Where the hell is Logan?

In the corner of the dance floor, Lettie Navarro was hysterically crying in the arms of Weevil's uncle Angel. Angel was pointing and yelling at a cowed Madison - in alternating Spanish and English - as the cameras took in the fight.

Keith and Alicia were too wrapped up in owning the dance floor to even notice the scuffle - or Veronica approaching.

She smiled, thinking of their covert dates together a decade ago, and how she'd followed them only to find out what they had been doing was totally innocent. She felt guilty having made things so difficult for them. If she'd only known what a disappointment Lianne would have turned out to be, she would have pushed Alicia and her dad together with both hands.

Keith pulled Alicia in dramatically, and dipped her low.

From over her step-mother's shoulder, Veronica caught her father's attention.

She flashed him a score of ten.

He did a bug-eyed tour around the room and grinned his approval, then immediately lost himself to the dance again.

Veronica was on the move. Logan had to be hiding somewhere nearby.

Golden coins littered the tops of every dining table, spilling out from giant cauldrons under the guardianship of tiny leprechaun figurines.

At one of those tables, Molly, clad in a too tight white dress ending at her mid-thigh, sat atop her new husband's lap, nuzzling his temple. Her arms were linked around his neck, as Weevil combed his fingers though the back of her flaxen hair. At one point, Molly whispered something into Weevil's ear and they both laughed with abandon.

Veronica had never seen them look happier.

"You outdid yourself," Wallace said, coming up from behind her, Dos Equiis bottle looped through the fingers of one hand and a margarita rocks in the other. "Thought you could probably use this."

Taking the drink, she wrapped her free arm around him. "Look at you, scoring points."

They clinked their drinks together.

"I aim to please."

Veronica sighed at the first taste of sweet and sour hitting the back of her tongue. It had been a long day, and she could finally start to relax. "Just come out with it. After a night like this, I'm already as buttered up as I can get."

Of course, Wallace chose that moment to take a long, leisurely sip. Just to torture her. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm pretty sure the favor ledger is tipped way the hell in your favor, so you may as well ask."

Wallace angled his head toward a group of Irish women loudly pounding shots by the bar. One of them, clearly the black sheep, kept surreptitiously tossing the contents of hers into a nearby potted fern. "The brunette. In the red dress."

She squinted in that direction. "Molly's cousin, Brigitte."

"Yeah."

She observed the woman for a moment. "Unlike the others, she has yet to break out into a drunken rendition of 'White Wedding'. I'd say, you've selected wisely."

Wallace knocked his hip into hers. "Just get me her number. Or give her mine."

"What? Did you use up all your 'game" at Carmen's charity event last year?"

"Please, girl, I'm not wasting my game here. No good can come of asking out a woman at a wedding that's rowdier than a Fat Tuesday parade. I'm gonna call her when she's sober and can fully appreciate the Fennell charm assault."

"You make it sound so pleasant."

"Come on. With your boring ass married life, you should be tripping over yourself to live vicariously through me."

"Fine. But you'd better share details this time or I'll tell Molly to give your number to the other three ladies at the bar, as well."

One of the women stood on a chair, attempting to river-dance, as the other three banged out a rhythm atop the bar.

Wallace pulled a face. "That's cold."

Veronica held her free hand up. "That's the deal, Romeo."

Wallace looked over again at the brunette and softened. "Yeah, okay deal. But don't call me next time you want to go on a date with your man and need a babysitter. Uncle Wallace is gonna be busy."

"Yeah yeah. Speaking of 'my man', is he around here anywhere?" She looked behind herself, just to make sure.

"There's some kind of high stakes gambling thing going on at one of those tables. I saw him over there for a while." He pointed toward the back of the room.

She bit nervously on the stirrer straw in her drink. "He's not supposed to be gambling without Lilly. That was the rule."

Wallace chuckled. "Get the digis for me. I'm gonna go make myself memorable, in the meantime," he called out, over his shoulder, as he walked toward the bar.

She cupped a hand around her mouth. "Thought you didn't want to waste your game, bro!"

His bright grin nearly lit up the place. "I got game to burn, sista. Game. To. Burn."

Squeezing himself in between the rowdy women to get to the bartender, Wallace was quickly penned in by the group, like a lamb, amongst a pack of starving wolves.

Brigitte looked up at him and blushed, backing up a few inches to make some space next to herself for him.

Wallace leaned over and said something which made her giggle, then signaled for the bartender.

Go get her, killer.

Veronica watched on with amusement as she crossed the room.

At one of the last tables in the corner, a large crowd had quickly gathered, and Dick Casablancas was causing a spectacle.

"Winning! Winning! I have tiger blood!" He stood up and did (what Veronica assumed to be) some sort of lude, victory dance, grinding against the shoulder of an unwilling Mac.

"Settle down, Charlie Sheen." Flushed with embarrassment, but still laughing, Mac grabbed onto the ends of Dick's loosened tie and dragged him back into his seat. "Stop making me look like I've made poor life choices!"

"Poor? Poor?" Dick forcefully pulled her out of her seat, twirling her around with one hand while waving a full house in Gory Sorokin's miffed face with the other. "I'm rich, beotch!"

She cocked an eyebrow at him and he immediately sank back down into his chair, bringing her with him. "I meant beotch in the vernacular...and not in the...you know...chick slur way."

"Be less ridiculous." Mac flicked his ear as punishment, but he just stared at her, dopey smile on his face. "You're exasperating."

"You're hot," he's shot back, like it was an insult.

She tried to keep a serious face, but it was futile, judging by the way Dick was looking at her. "Ugh. Just deal me in."

"No. You're just going to beat me."

She flicked the side of his head again, and then smoothed her fingers over the spot where it made contact. "Just do it, Richard."

"Fine, Cynthia." Dick said, exaggerating her given name like a tease. He then gathered up all of the cards from the players and performed an elaborate shuffle. "Sheesh."

"Your boyfriend is man-child, yes?" Katya asked, resting a new hand of cards on her heavily-pregnant stomach.

"Yes Katya, my boyfriend is a man-child," Mac said, fondly, as she buttoned up the shirt Dick had begun to shed in celebration of his last win.

Dick dealt the new cards with one hand and let his other one fall to Mac's knee. "I make up for it in other ways. Don't I, baby?"

"Yuck." Veronica scrunched up her face as she approached the table. She'd gotten used to the odd pairing over the years, but she'd never give up the pleasure of making them squirm.

"No!" Dick said, eyes blinking in alarm. "She is not allowed to play. Charlatan!"

Gory, clearly sensing an opportunity to rattle his friend, leaned back in his chair to look at her. "Pull up a seat, Mars. Might be nice to play against a real opponent."

"Dude!" Dick pursed his lips, disapprovingly. "She has bad sportsmanship."

"I do not!"

"You brought Duncan's daughter to the last game and had her counting cards."

You're just mad you didn't think of it first.

"Well, I never!" Veronica said with gusto, then smiled down at Mac, who was holding her cards - literally - to her chest.

"That girl is like the fucking Rainman from 'Rainman'. And who brings a nine year old to a poker game?"

"Let it go, broseph, we're at a wedding. You can horse-whip this thing all you want, some time when we're alone."

"That's what sh-"

Without looking up from her cards, Mac flicked Dick in the ear again, interrupting his words.

"I can't control it, okay?" Dick's bottom lip slid into a pout.

"Try." Mac sighed, heavily.

"He is good in bed, yes?" Katya asked Mac, as she arranged her cards. "It is only explanation."

Mac leaned back in Dick's lap. "He's aiight."

She turned around and muffled his squawk of protestation with a kiss before he could fully get it out. "Dick, you're too easy..."

"That's what she s-"

Mac kissed him again to stop him from talking.

Veronica took pity on her mortified best friend and changed the topic. "What's the buy in?"

"One K." Gory pulled Katya closer into his side and gestured to the open seat next to her. "If you play as badly as your husband does, I'm going to have a great night."

As always, Veronica's fingers itched with the desire to teach him a lesson- but it would have to wait. "Where is he, by the way? I haven't seen Logan in an hour."

Dick, who was busy organizing his cards by suit, gestured lazily over his head. "Said he wanted to go pay off the cameramen before he lost his shirt here."

"By the way," Gory lifted his chin. "Spectacular job, Mars. A drunken Australian couldn't possibly have made this wedding any tackier."

All eyes were drawn to the middle of the room, where Madison was engaged in a screaming fight with her assistant. Brian was crying, curled into a ball, as she tossed out gay slurs, expletives, and even the odd handful of gold coins from one of the nearby tables.

The cameramen caught every minute of it.

This is better than 'Cats'.

"How did you manage to swap out the decorations and change the food and band at the last minute, without that uptight chick realizing it?" Gory asked.

"I had an inside man."

Veronica remembered the ecstatic look on Brian's face as she slipped him an envelope full of money a month ago. He'd been dying to get out from under Madison's thorny thumb and relished the added bonus of publicly humiliating her.

It didn't hurt that he would emerge as a sympathetic figure when this was all through. After all of the public abuse, the network would have to replace Madison as host, and who better to step in for her than her much-beloved and long-suffering assistant, Brian?

You are killing it, Brian.

"I feel like I should probably take a victory lap or something." Veronica set her empty glass down on the table and waved goodbye as she went in search of Logan.

Veronica's motion through a stone-still crowd immediately drew Madison's attention.

"You!" She hissed, pointing both index fingers at Veronica.

Veronica touched her hand to her heart and faked confusion. "Me?"

"You did this!" She approached her, hair askew, practically foaming at the mouth. Gone was the familiar, well-manicured figure from her weekly show. In its place was a half-mad shrew. "It has to be you!"

Veronica crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. "Don't quote me, but I have a feeling this is going to be your best episode, yet."

"I will ruin you!"

"Maybe you should first finish ruining yourself? Go out in a blaze of glory." Veronica made eye contact with Brian, who was brushing himself off. "That's what I'd do, anyway."

Madison looked between Veronica and Brian and a high-pitched shriek escaped her lips. "You bitch!" She screamed, before lunging for the young man, fists-raised.

Before Madison could reach her target, Veronica kicked the woman's legs out from beneath her, toppling her to the floor.

"I hate you!" Madison kicked Veronica's shins, sending her down to the floor with her.

The two women were instantly locked in a struggle.

Oh God, I'm going to be on tv. I'm even giving myself schadenfreude.

"And I hate this dress!" Madison said, tearing the ruffled collar from the top of Veronica's frock.

With a burst of energy, Veronica flipped Madison onto her stomach and pinned her arms down, pressing a sharp knee in-between the other woman's shoulder blades to subdue her. "Yeah, me too. That was kind of the point."

The jagged edges of Madison's laugh could probably have cut glass. "What are you gonna do, Veronica Mars? Arrest me?"

"Can't. Not anymore." Veronica said, learning her knee more heavily on Madison's back.

As Keith approached, Veronica nodded in his direction. "But he can."

Keith looked down on Veronica and sighed. "I can't take you anywhere, Pumpkin."

"Sorry, daddy." Veronica had the good sense to look contrite. Her dad would never have participated in the ruse, but it's not like he'd ever fail to have her back. "This crazy lady just attacked me out of nowhere."

"Nowhere, huh?"

"Yep." Veronica shot him a hopeful look and - as expected - he relented.

"Go find your husband, will you? Tell him I said not to leave you alone. I'll swing by later to get your statement, after I've booked this one for battery." Keith held his hand out to help her up, and she took it appreciatively.

"Thanks."

"No." He shook his head as he bent over to help Madison up.

She smiled sheepishly at him - then toward a horrified Alicia - and slid quietly through the watching crowd toward the bathrooms, to straighten herself up.

Upon reaching the far off corridor where the restrooms were, Veronica felt a pair of hands grab her around the waist and pull her through a broom closet door.

"Where have you been?" She asked, closing the door behind them. "I've looked everywhere."

"Oh, I was out there." Logan pressed her up against the wall and kissed her deeply. "Watching you light the world up with your smile."

You're certainly lighting up my world right now.

"Ha. Ha." She said, punctuating each word with a kiss. "I think Madison's career might be over."

He swept her hair to the side. "Wasn't that the point?"

"That, and public humiliation. Her getting herself charged with a hate crime was honestly a bonus I did not see coming. I might have to hire Brian to do freelance work for Mars Investigations." Heat pooled in her stomach as Logan mouthed the column of her neck.

"Your dress is ripped."

"Madison got a little grabby."

"Maybe the only kind act she performed tonight." Logan pulled the rest of the collar off and discarded it on the floor. "God, this thing is ugly."

"You said I looked sexy earlier, in the bathroom. When we were getting ready?"

He trailed a finger along her now-exposed clavicle. "That was before you got dressed."

Veronica mock-gasped. "I thought you were trying to get laid, here?"

"Is that what I was doing?" Logan grinned against her skin.

"It had better be." She leaned her head back to give him more room to work. "I've earned it."

"Hey," he nipped at her chin, "I helped."

She threaded her fingers through his hair and prodded him to keep going. "Making an old lady cry in front of the cameras, Logan? An inspired choice. I didn't know Lettie could weep on demand."

"I may have coached her a bit."

"A skill you picked up from our son?"

"Come on, I don't even deserve to be mentioned in the same breath with him. He's practically elevated emotional manipulation into an art form."

Veronica straightened, suddenly remembering it had been a while since she'd checked on their child. "Oh! Did you call Duncan?"

"Of course I did."

Her shoulders dropped, relieved. "How's he holding up?"

"With Carmen on bed rest...he possibly overestimated his abilities as a babysitter."

"Well, I'm sure he'd be fine if he were watching normal children." Veronica let out an extended sigh and girded herself for bad news. "What did Leo do?"

"Apparently, he and Lilly formed their own terrorist cell and took Duncan hostage for the better part of an hour."

"Sounds about right." Her head dropped forward onto his cheek and she rubbed her forehead against it. "The upshot?"

"They managed to negotiate four extra bags of animal crackers and a full 64 ounce bottle of concord grape juice."

Veronica and Logan shared a laugh. "At least they held out for the good stuff."

Logan painted the underside of her jaw with kisses, swirling each one together like a watercolor masterpiece.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she suddenly realized how much she didn't want to be talking about their son at that moment.

"God - right there - that's good."

"It's been a while." One hand cradled her face as he kissed her and the other drifted down the front of her dress, catching on pebbled nipples through the thin material. "Too long."

"Too right," she said, hissing as his fingertips retraced their steps. "I blame Weevil for getting married and leaving me with his case load. And Leo for getting the chicken pox. And your mom for giving it to him through her stupid shingles rash."

"It gets me really hot when you talk about shingles rashes." Logan lifted her up and promptly dropped her on top of a filing cabinet.

Okay, I deserved that.

"Sorry. Sometimes I just can't turn it off." She pointed to her brain.

Logan pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'm not interested in turning you off right now."

She eyed the door nervously. "Wait - here? Seriously?"

"We've already abused the babysitting hospitality of nearly everybody who loves us, and our son likes to sleep next to you more than I do. This may be our only chance to be alone in the foreseeable future." He spread her knees and pushed one hand under her skirt.

Veronica stopped him midway. "We're in a public closet."

"Is this the part where you pretend to be scandalized and then rip my clothes off with very little prompting?"

"You're the only one around here ripping clothes off."

He smiled infuriatingly at her as his fingers crept back under her dress. "I don't mind prompting you, bobcat. In fact, I rather enjoy it."

A soft sigh escaped her chest as he flattened two fingers against her core and began to rub slow, torturous circles there.

"I don't think I'm going to require a lot of prompting tonight." All of her senses woke up at once forcing her head against the wall. "In fact, let's save the foreplay for later."

"It's not foreplay if it's after."

"Afterplay, then."

The sound of Logan's low chuckle made her ache between her thighs. "Are you really afraid of getting caught?"

"I think we both know I'm no stranger to hiding in closets. In fact, I vividly remember hiding in a closet with you not so many years ago."

His expression softened like it always did whenever they reminisced about their reconciliation.

"How could I forget? It was the night you came back into my life." Two of Logan's fingers slid inside of her. "You have no idea how badly I wanted to kiss you."

"I have a pretty good idea." Veronica leaned forward and kissed him with everything she had. He parted his lips and let her take the lead, as always. "I was dying to kiss you, too."

As his fingers pumped in and out of her, she ground her pelvis down to meet his hand on each upstroke.

"I wanted to do more than kiss you." His breath sped up with the movement as he worked her closer to the edge. "You were so beautiful. So tough. I'd almost forgotten the effect you had on me. I'd been without you for so long...seeing you again...was like a fever dream."

Veronica's breathing grew short and she began to pant. "Jesus, Logan. If I weren't already a sure thing, that little speech would have definitely sealed the deal."

"I'm a man of limited skills. I've got to put the ones I have to use where I can." His gaze was hot and heavy against her skin.

"You - you're so coy. You have a lot of skills, Logan. So many many skills. All the skills. God." Without any further preamble, she reached for his zipper. "Why are your pants still on?"

With the help of Logan's other hand, Veronica freed him from his pants and wrapped her legs around his waist to urge him closer. "Come on!"

"You're so lucky I find your bossiness in bed a turn on." He grabbed her ass with both hands and tugged her to the edge of the cabinet, then yanked aside her underwear and pressed slowly into her.

As their lips met for a kiss, Logan bottomed out, pulling a groan from both of them.

He felt amazing, and before she realized it, she was laughing against his open mouth.

Revenge. Subterfuge. Sex. There are very few perfect moments in life, but I'm pretty sure this is one of them.

"The sound every man longs to hear while they're plowing their wife in a broom closet." He pulled back slowly and then rammed into her so hard her head hit the wall again.

"Fuck!" She gasped, still smiling. "Keep going."

He slammed into her again, over and over.

She grabbed the metal frame of the door to keep herself upright as he built to a punishing pace.

Through the gap in his shirt, she caressed the deep V of Logan's pelvis. She'd always admired the way his abdominal muscles clenched and twitched in tandem when he was inside of her.

A fine sheen of sweat dusted his brow and upper lip. "God, I love you. So much."

His fingers were on her again, thumb nudging above her entrance as he moved in and out, dragging her closer to the knife's edge.

His eyes were closed - messy and pinched with effort - yet placid at the same time.

Maybe that was them? Their lives together. So much effort was required, but the payoff...pure bliss.

They might never be ordinary people, but they were happy. And that was enough for her.

A/N: Whelp! That's all folks. I hope it ended the way you wanted it to.

If you have any questions about loose ends or head canons - or you just want to stop by and say hi - you can find me on Tumblr at happilyshanghaied

Once again, Thank you for all of your comments and favorites, and most of all for sticking with me and actually reading this! I really do think you all are the most supportive people ever xox