Quivering Member. I Like That.

“Quivering member.” I like that. 

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU (1999) dir. Gil Junger

endless favorites ♡ parker x alec hardison (leverage)

“i never would’ve made it through that without you. you know that, right, parker?”

Lamorne Morris photographed by Ian Maddox for Sharp Magazine (2020)

Nobody throws Hardison off a roof. Except maybe m e.

Fiona Apple wearing suit of armor on a subway by Joe McNally

Oh, hey. So. What about a continuation of Come Rain or Shine? “You’re Carrie’s Logan?” “Lilly’s Veronica?” Ummmm ya we need more of that world.

Title: Happy Together, Unhappy Together (a continuation from this fic I wrote five years ago, holy moly what is time??!!) Rating: PG-13 for some swears and kinda some smut glitter Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars (mentions of Lilly Kane/Carrie Bishop) Additional Tags: Logan and Veronica probably being schmoopier than acceptable, pillow talk and nonsense Word Count: 910   *** This one is dedicated both to @ayy-ohh​ and @jjmazzy because in a total brain meld they each requested it approximately 10-minutes apart from one another. It was very difficult to reacquaint myself w/ this little universe so I worry L/V are totally different people from the first fic, but *shrugs*. 

Also, there is a lot I left on the cutting room floor (approximately 2,000 words worth) because most of it was trash. I’ll post little snippets of the cuttings in my author room on the VM Fic Club discord if you’re interested.

Have I stalled enough?  *** Carrie and Lilly’s wedding ceremony begins at 5:00 PM. By 5:33 PM, vows are exchanged. The first platters of champagne make their rounds in the largest ballroom at the Neptune Grande at 6:30 PM. Right around 6:55 PM, Veronica Mars makes a terrible first impression (or, depending on who you ask, second impression) on Logan Echolls. And by 10:41 PM, her bra is off, her dress is hitched up around her waist, and Logan has her pressed up against the wall of his hotel suite. 

(Okay, so that leaves almost four hours unaccounted for. She realizes that. It’s just that Logan’s mouth is doing something pretty great at the juncture between her neck and shoulder and—holy shit did she just moan?—so she can’t really be expected to give an accurate accounting of every minute of the wedding reception. Can she?) 

She wakes up the following morning to the sight of Logan’s naked back, his limbs akimbo and cheek pressed into his pillow. It is painfully cute and Veronica has every intention of doing something about it but first, bathroom. She brushes her teeth, pulls her hair back into a messy top-knot, and helps herself to one of the bathrobes hanging on the door. Back in the suite, Logan hasn’t moved. She stands by her impulse from when she first woke up. The impulse that was something along the lines of again, now! 

It’s just—

She also wants breakfast. 

She’s perusing the room service breakfast menu when there’s a knock on the suite door. She ensures her robe is tied and by the time she makes it to the door, looks through the little peephole, there’s a breakfast cart waiting for her to collect. 

Well, she’s not going to say no to that. 

Logan wakes up as she pours herself coffee. 

“Morning,” he says. His voice is deliciously gruff and reminds her of the aforementioned again, now! thought. Then there’s the hair which sticks up ten different ways. He runs a hand through it, making it even more of a mess. 

(There was a moment last night, where he was propped up against the headboard, she was in his lap, fistfuls of his hair in her grip as he—)

She focuses on her coffee, stirring the cream and sugar until it’s the perfect color of brown. “When did you manage this?” she asks. 

“When you were in the shower last night.” 

“God, you’re good.” 

“I know.” 

“Conceited.” 

“Self-assured.” Logan gets out of bed and settles behind her. He rests one hand on her hip and uncovers the breakfast plates. “Sweet or savory?” 

“Sweet.” 

The hand on her hip bunches up her robe, and she feels Logan press his smile into the crook of her neck. God. This is going to be a problem. He is going to be a problem for her. 

Breakfast is a peculiar affair. Peculiar in that Veronica would never think to describe morning afters as easy. But this one is. 

She eats blueberry pancakes and bacon, all while she and Logan joke and jibe about the wedding the night before. They can’t joke about how happy both Lilly and Carrie looked, though. 

“They’re going to make it. Right?” 

Logan nods as he takes a sip of his coffee. “They’re going to make it.” 

“Speaking of couples—”

“—Oh, you already think of us as a couple?”

“Logan.” 

“Do I get a pin or a letterman’s jacket?” 

She pinches his nipple. 

“Ouch,” he says, batting her hand away. “You’re a pest.” 

She shrugs, not denying it. “Speaking of couples,” she tries again, “word is going to get back to Lilly and Carrie about what we told Duncan.” 

“Oh no, Sandy! Whatever will we do?” She goes to pinch him again and he smacks her hand away. “Be nice.” 

“You don’t think that is a problem? That our best-friends are going to hear we told my ex we were dating?” 

“We’ll explain it to them.” 

“Oh.” She runs a finger through the syrup on her plate. “Yeah, that’s logical.” 

“And you find logic to be disappointing?” 

She sighs. “I think I like you.” 

Logan moves the plate away from where it sits separating them and scoots closer. Their knees touch and he runs his hands over her bare thighs, up under her robe. “I would hope so.” He tucks a strand of hair that’s fallen from her top knot behind her ear. “Because if what you did to me last night is what you do to people you don’t like?” 

She pushes at his shoulder and he reaches up to keep her hand there. “Veronica.” She curls her fingers like a fist. Presses that fist into Logan’s skin. 

Her name on his lips is sotto voce. Like a secret. She leans forward and rests her forehead on his chest. “What?”

“Maybe let’s try?” 

“I live in San Francisco,” she tells his sternum.

“I know that.” 

“You live in San Diego.” 

“I also know that.” She looks up at him. “I also know that I am very rich.” 

“Why do I know so many rich people?” 

“It’s a 90 minute flight.” 

“Think of the greenhouse gas emissions.” 

“Veronica.” The way he says her name is part rebuke, part plea. It’s tempting to ignore it. Insist it’s a dumb idea to start a relationship with 500 miles between them. Only, she doesn’t want to. 

“Okay.” She kisses the space above his heart. “Maybe let’s try.”