Title: Common Pleasure
Author: Marianna
Characters: Logan, Veronica, Dick.
Spoilers/Warnings: This is pretty spoilerific, so if you either haven't seen the premiere, or aren't spoiled and don't want to be, I wouldn't read it, even though there aren't HUGE plot points mentioned. It's vague stuff, but it's there.
Word Count: 1228
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Set around a week after the premiere. Veronica goes to visit Logan and finds something disturbing when she gets there.
Author's Notes: I've been writing SUPERangsty fic the past two days, and I wanted to do something fun. Hopefully funny, and yet still hot, and true to form. I hope this comes close to at least some of those goals.



So, Okay. When Logan gave you his room key, and you’d teased him about walking in on other women in the suite?



You were kidding.



Kid. Ding. There was no place in that statement where you expected him to take you seriously.



And sure, you don’t do commitment well, and sure, you’ve been likened to a cactus on more than a few occasions, but still.



You don’t expect to walk in-with the key card that he gave you, and with whipped cream in your purse-the kind in the bottle, not the tub, and you hear moaning on the couch.



In fact, you’re generally so freaked out that your dad is spying on you most of the time that you don’t even make out on the couch anymore.



It strikes you at this moment that maybe this is why Logan is making out-making out, you think, and you’re already throwing up a little bit in your mouth thinking about it, but if he’s making out on the couch with some bimbo, it has more to do with his missing the comfort and the contours of said couch, and nothing to do with you at all.



So, I know you like to watch, Mars, but could you shut the door? The little guy’s getting chilly, and he can’t operate when it’s cold out.



Dick? Dick is on the couch. Right. You flip the light switch and become exceedingly more uncomfortable, yet more and more relieved that it’s Dick and not your-Logan, with some girl you swear you’ve seen before, but can’t quite place.



Yeah. Sure. You slam the door and disappear into Logan’s room without sparing them a second glance.


Thanks for that, Mars; he calls out again, and you feel the pit in your stomach worsening. I like doing it with the lights on.



The girl with him giggles.



Veronica? Logan mumbles, sitting up in the bed and rubbing at his eyes. His hair is tousled, and he isn’t wearing a shirt.



You smile as brightly as you can, and desperately try to erase the past 6 minutes from your memory.



It’s proving to be kind of unsuccessful.



Did you know that Dick Casablancas was on your couch? You ask as you drop your bag to the floor, the canister of whipped cream clanging dully as it hits the carpet.


Oh yeah. He is. Did I not mention that? His face is the picture of innocence, and you snort as you pull your shirt up over your head, and tossing it to the chair beside you.


No, you seemed to have forgotten that during our 3-hour phone conversation this afternoon, and when we had lunch, and I definitely didn’t see him when I left this morning.


He’s very good at hiding, Dick is.


But apparently not as good at not, you know, sounding like a wounded animal that's mauling a bimbo on your couch.


Wait, there’s both a wounded animal and a bimbo on my couch? How did I get so lucky?


Nope, sorry to burst your bubble. It just sounds like a wounded animal.


And a bimbo. Don’t forget her, she makes the story more interesting. Because, you know, people like doing things with bimbos and wounded animals…



He laughs uncomfortably.



Please don’t make me finish that thought. I have no idea where I could take it, except for maybe that crazy episode of CSI last season, with that girl, who had the hair all over? She kinda looked like an animal, right? Or, or, or d’you remember that animal costume sex one? That might work here too.


Were you ever going to tell me? You ask him as you settle on the bed beside him and pull on the t-shirt he must have discarded at some point during the night.


It’s not like I was keeping him from you, Veronica. I didn’t get a pet pony and was hiding it in the bathroom so you wouldn’t notice. It just didn’t come up.


You wouldn’t tell me if you got a pet pony?


A pony? Maybe. A boa constrictor? No.


Because you know how much I hate snakes?


Because I know how much you hate Dick.


Right. I mean, no. I don’t hate-



You snuggle next to him, leaning your head against his chest. If you had your way you would never have to get out of this bed ever again.



It’s just-


Veronica.


What? I mean, you could’ve just-



His finger against your lips silences you, even though you wished it didn’t, and in a second, his lips are covering yours and you stop thinking entirely.



Don’t wreck the moment.



The words are softly whispered against the skin of your neck, and you arch up as his lips find your sensitive spot.



I just…I thought it was you.



You have no idea where that came from, or why the words chose to slip out of your mouth now, of all times, but they’re there, hanging groundless in the air, heavy and odd and he scoots away from you suddenly, the warmth of his hands gone from your skin.



You thought I was on the couch with Dick? And then you wonder why they call you Misguided Mars. I’m fairly certain ol’ Dick doesn’t swing that way, and I don’t swing away from you, so I don’t know what you could’ve been thinking.


You’re funny.


I know.


Logan.


Veronica.


I just-I don’t know what I thought, Okay? Maybe that, you know, you where there, with a girl and I know that you wouldn’t be. It doesn’t make sense for you to be, I mean, it’s not like we don’t do stuff. We do lots of stuff; I mean, yeah, there are things that I’m not ready to try yet, but that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t be willing, given the option, and so you don’t have pull a Hugh Grant and get the milk somewhere else. I mean, you’d have to, you know, pay for it somewhere else. You don’t have to pay for it with me.


I love that you’re likening our sex life to buying milk.


You know what they say about cows and milk buying. Maybe it’s goats.


Goats.


And milk buying.


Right.



You feel like the biggest idiot on the planet, and you can feel a hot blush scouring your cheeks. If there were ever a time for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, this would definitely be it.



I’m just going to go die now. You move to stand, but his fingers wrap around your wrist, and he drags you back down onto the bed, wrapping his arms around you from behind.


Veronica.


Yes, Logan?


Do you ever listen when I speak?


Huh? What was that you said?


You’re funny.


Hmm. Wasn’t that what I just said to you?


Veronica.



You sigh.



Yes, Logan?


Last week, when I gave you the key, and you made the joke about the other girls, what did I say to you?


That I’m the prettiest and they’re slow runners so you had to get rid of them?


That I don’t want anyone other than you.



You feel a giggle bubbling at your throat, and you close your eyes so he won’t be able to see the laughter in them.



I do remember something like that being mentioned.


I meant it.



And he leans down, and kisses you, and proves himself right.