Title: "Five things that never happened to Veronica Mars"
Spoilers/Timeline: *rolls eyes*
A/N: Okay, so I know they were supposed to be 5 things that NEVER happened, but only one technically never happened. The other four are debatable. I suck with this kind of stuff. Enjoy!
i. I make believe that you are here it’s the only way I see clear
“It’s time to take your pill, honey.” Her mother’s voice breaks through the silence.
Automatic response now. Place the pill on her tongue, sip the tepid water (it’s always tepid), toss her head back a bit as she swallows. Lianne’s hand always strokes her hair-good girl, good girl.
When it’s all over and Lianne’s satisfied, she rolls back over. “Why don’t you tell me about your day?” her mother asks.
Sometimes it’s a shrug, sometimes bleak silence. On a good day a “Fine,” or “Okay.” Today it’s silence.
“Honey?” this time there is a break in Lianne’s voice. “Veronica, please.”
“Lianne?” and now Keith’s there too. “How is she?”
She can’t see her mother step into her father’s embrace. “She’s getting…she’s not getting better, Keith. It’s like she’s…” and then tears.
“I know, I know,” and then their words trail off and they’re gone, or maybe not-she just doesn’t hear them.
No supper again because she’s never hungry. They clean up and watch some TV and then tuck her in even though she hasn’t moved before they go to bed.
Isn’t until the moonlight falls over her bed that she digs out the picture she hid between her mattress and the wall.
And then the tears come.
ii. fascinating new thing you delight me and I know you’re speaking of me
“Well, well, what do we have here?” she figures she’ll spend the rest of her life attaching Clemmons’ voice with all things that are evil, slimy and generally no good.
“Absolutely nothing, sir,” and that’s Weevil, so the chances of this being something innocently mistaken are slim to none.
She peeks around the corner: Clemmons with arms crossed over his chest and that all-around ‘don’t fuck with me’ look, Weevil as always cocky and defiant and left hand clasped tightly around several bills of undetermined quantity. This cannot end well.
“Then you wouldn’t mind explaining why you have what looks like several thousand of dollars in your possession?” No, it certainly cannot end well if Clemmons sounds so triumphant.
“I’m thinking you won’t believe me if I tell you that it’s mine, sir,” Weevil cocks his head up. She can’t help but be amused at his arrogance and at the same time pissed off at his inability to defer to authority. All part of the charm.
A sigh and then “All right, Mr. Navarro, why don’t we continue this in my office?” and as Clemmons goes to grab Weevil’s arm, she jumps out from her not-so-hidden hiding place.
“Oh Mr. Clemmons, there you are! I have been looking everywhere for you,” she loves how she can give the man a cavity by the amount of sugar in her voice. There’s something about the way his lip curls that makes her smile wider.
“Miss Mars, this isn’t a good time at all.” Nice. Weevil gets the slimy smug voice and she gets the exasperated one.
“Oh but sir, I really need your opinion on something and I’m afraid it’s so important that it simply CAN’T wait.”
Clemmons sighs again, lets go of Weevil’s arm and turns to her. “Fine, Miss Mars. You have my complete attention.”
She’s practically screaming for Weevil to run as she turns her smile up another notch. “Vice Principal Clemmons, you’ve been a fine educator for so many years, and, well, there is this problem that I’ve been having, and I’m sure that you’re the only one that has the knowledge and experience to help me with it…” she waits until the vein on his temple is throbbing visibly to make her move.
She watches his face go white, then red, then purple, and his mouth flap open like a fish before cheerily thanking him and walking off. She’s hurrying away when a leather-clad arm pulls her into an alcove.
“Veronica Mars. Tell me you didn’t just flash the principal to get me out of detention.” He’s caught halfway between admiration and shock.
“I own you now, Navarro,” she winks.
iii. hold on tight the sky is breaking I don’t ever want to be alone with all my darkest dreaming
“What are the options?”
There’s a sickly smell and all the noise is muted and why do they paint all hospitals the same ugly beige anyway?
“At this stage, there aren’t any,” she hates that he’s hesitant and calm with her because damn it she’s not a child anymore she hasn’t been ever since this all started. “The main thing is keeping him comfortable until…”
He walks away when she doesn’t bother to listen anymore his stupid white coat swishing around him like it makes him a goddamned superhero or something.
And all she can do is watch through a window watch him sleep his thin chest rising and falling quickly to the timing of the machine his pale round fade hampered by the tubes and dark circles under his eyes.
Bullets knives runaway cars bail jumpers mobsters-he lived through them all and he’s brought down by a thing no one can control.
Standing awkwardly few feet away from her hands in his pockets and head bent in a way that could be shyly if he was ever shy in his life and she wants to smile except her knees give and she crumples instead.
This time it’s a corridor of a hospital instead of the fancy lobby of an upscale hotel. And he’s not bent uncomfortably to hold her to his shoulder because he’s taller and she fits against him better when she curls up and they fall together.
The pain, however, always remains the same.
iv. when you’re around I’m always laughing I wanna make you mine
“Veronica, Veronica, slow down, okay?” Wallace is pushing through the crowd to keep up with her. “Is it the end of the world if we don’t get that one table for lunch?”
She turns and grasps his shoulders, eyes gleaming almost manically. “This? You do not want to miss.”
They sit and Wallace digs into his meal, but she’s too excited to eat. He’s halfway through his sandwich and she’s nearing insanity with every passing second when the loudspeaker crackles, “Attention Neptune High. Prepare for the performance of a lifetime!”
The entire student body on hand is fully attentive and they do not have long to wait. The opening strains of The Divinyls “I Touch Myself” replace the voice over the speakers and then a squeal draws everyone’s eyes to the far right corner.
Wallace’s mouth drops open. “Holy. Shit.”
Logan Echolls, hair slicked back, dances his way along the low wall that divides the courtyard. As the song picks up momentum, his fingers find the collar of his shirt and flip it up before trailing down to the buttons at the front. He gyrates as one by one the buttons are flicked open to reveal smooth tanned skin.
There are catcalls and whistles from the guys, while the majority of the girls are moaning in appreciation as he slides the shirt down his shoulders and tosses it into the crowd. He’s smirking and winking at the multitude of shocked and amused students when he draws the leather belt from his hips and with a flick, lets it join the shirt.
“I am not seeing this,” Wallace mumbles in horror.
“Just wait,” Veronica smiles.
There are more envious sighs when he slowly undoes the fly of his khakis and shimmies his hips to the deafening throb of the music so the pants fall a little off his hips. He shakes until they pool around his ankles and the sighs are now shrieks as hundreds of hormonal teenage girls get a glimpse of Logan Echolls filling out a pair of Union Jack Speedos.
When the song goes into the bridge, he jumps down and moves himself among the crowd, seemingly oblivious to the hands that grab frantically at the last piece of clothing that keeps him covered. He sways through the throng until he’s shaking his hips in front of her and Wallace, his eyes watching her carefully.
She sits back and smirks until he turns and sits on her lap before continuing to move his hips to the beat. She shoves him off in wide-eyed surprise but he grabs her hands and gives her a devious little smile.
As the song draws to an end and the crowd starts to cheer, he’s grabbed by two faculty members and an irate Vice Principal Clemmons. This doesn’t deter him; he blows kisses and winks out as he’s hauled away for whatever punishment stripping and lap dancing incur at Neptune High.
“I never, EVER, want to see that again,” Wallace chokes, and it seems that 50% of the population around him agrees, while the other half takes up a collection for an encore.
Veronica just smiles at him and then opens the paper he’d palmed her before he was taken away.
You owe me a private performance. 10 PM, pool house. Don’t be late.-
v. and now I think it’s kinda funny that you say you love me you tell me that I’m crazy then you smile
Champagne and silk sheets.
It’s clichéd, of course, and overdone and really, she should be scoffing at the whole thing.
But it’s always the way that Veronica Mars pictured losing her virginity and besides, nothing else she pictured for herself has gone the way it was supposed to. She should be allowed this one thing.
Even if it isn’t as perfect as it’s supposed to be, either.
When she wakes up, still sleepy, the sun is streaming through the windows and basks the room in a warm morning glow. He had gotten them the five star answer to the honeymoon suite and it’s large and beautifully decorated. The bucket with the champagne sits sweating next to a table of-yes-chocolate dipped strawberries, most of them gone.
The man in question is sprawled next to her, his arm loosely draped over her stomach, the soft sheets tangled in his legs. She marvels at the way sleep relaxes the tension of his features and how even when rumpled and unconscious he can look sarcastic and smirky, like it’s natural to him.
“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” he murmurs into the pillow without opening his eyes. She just giggles.
He tugs her closer with his arm. “I’m flattered you can’t take your eyes off of me,” he breathes against her lips. Kisses deepen as he rolls her over and slides his leg between hers, drawing a moan from her. He pulls away. “Oh, hey, I’m sorry, Vee. You okay?”
She wraps her arms around his neck. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “It’s supposed to hurt a little…the first time.”
Their foreheads touch as he smiles, brushes her face with light fingertips, takes a moment to breathe her in. He didn’t want to play the charade and pretend like the past wasn’t still there. He didn’t want to make her believe that he didn’t care what had happened.
She had cradled his face in her hands and forced him to meet her eyes. “That…it doesn’t count to me, Logan. This is the one that really matters because I chose you…to be my first.”
And as she had always believed, it was and is perfect. Stretch limousines and dancing under the stars and then the room-she knows that it’s trite and cheesy and in a few years she’ll look back and roll her eyes at it all.
But right now he’s kissing her and holding her so tenderly the past fades and the future isn’t important, because for now only the moment exists.