Present Tense, Past Perfect (MATURE, VM) D & B

[Applebylicious]

Title: Present Tense, Past Perfect
Author: Lindsay
Pairing/Character: Logan/Veronica
Rating: MATURE
Summary: “Nostalgia is like a grammar lesson: you find the present tense, but the past perfect”
Spoilers/Warnings: Everything up to Ain’t No Magic Mountain High Enough.
Author’s Note: Thanks to my betas for this fic: LadyD, Sarah P, and Saskia. And special thanks to Angel for reading over this despite the fact that she hasn’t read VM fic in months (loser). *loves special people*
Written for the “You Must Remember This” Challenge over at Loveathons
Feedback is yummy candy.




<center>What’s past is prologue.
—William Shakespeare</center>


NEPTUNE, CALIFORNIA
LATE JULY, 2005


His heart was pounding, a throbbing flurry of blood and muscle as every moment, every second, became a thrill of sick anticipation. A light sweat had broken out across his skin. His breathing had grown heavy.

He shouldn’t have been so surprised by the simplicity of it all, by the pull and tug of desire. He always prided himself on being a step ahead of the game, of knowing the rules and what ways to break them. This time, though, he’d given in and hadn’t realized what that meant until it had happened.

Judging by the wary pleasure lurking in her eyes, she was as helpless against the onslaught as he was. She allowed him to touch her, to hold her, but every sigh was laced with uncertainty and every moan was fraught with doubt.

Logan didn’t mind the hesitation, so long as he won the game in the end. The idea that he might not, that he had never been in the running to begin with, sent him into a desperate tailspin to prove otherwise to the both of them.

It couldn’t have been more than seconds since he’d last spoken; pouring out his darkest secret to his rival-cum-lover. Expecting…what? For her to echo his earnest sentiment? To finally allow him to breach the impenetrable barrier she’d erected against him and anyone else who wanted to reach her?

He’d obviously lost his mind. And the longer she stared at him, the more he wanted to shake her. To make her see things—make her feel things—the way he did. She was more dangerous to him than both his father and Lilly combined. Because she cared. Maybe not as much as he wanted her to, but more than anyone else ever had.

She started to speak, the corners of her eyes crinkling, her mouth curving into a slow smile that inexplicably left him more anxious than when he’d been imagining the worst only moments before.

“The things guys’ll say to get past second base.”

It was such a typical Veronica response: a carefully evasive manuever, but a response all the same. And it left him feeling as edgy and confused as always. Yes, he thought dimly, she was dangerous. And he was too far gone to pull himself out of the trouble he could sense looming on the horizon—not that he’d ever done so before.

With retaliation in mind, he dragged her up, catching her startled gaze before silencing any protest she might have made with his mouth. Punishing her in a different, sweeter, way than he ever had before, and damning himself in the process.

She melted into him, a puddle of liquid hormones, as he gathered her closer and began to lower her to the seat. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and flirty, beckoning to him while warning him away at the same time. He paused, lips separated by a breath as her arms came up around his neck.

What I’m trying to say is that I’m in love with you.

“Veronica.” He made no move to continue the seduction, just studied her features in the pale moonlight that streaked through the window as his words played over in his mind. “I’m not just trying.”

Her eyes widened. She must have understood how hard it was for him to further clarify, to even admit the truth in the first place. Her palm found his cheek. “Logan—”

A thousand different words could have followed, and he chose not to hear any of them. He crushed her against him, welcoming the rush of adrenaline, the sharp hunger that settled deep in his stomach.

He fit between her legs with ease; grinding against the center of her body with determined passion as she released a giddy moan of surprise. For the first time since they’d been together, he didn’t try and stop himself. He let go of his tightly leashed control; wallowing in sensation and arousal. She was small, but by no means fragile. She incited protection, but challenged it as well. He wondered how he’d ever lost sight of that.

When he would have pulled away, satisfied that his point had been well-proven, her grip tightened and his pulse answered. In her darkened eyes, he read mutual need, and confusion. Both body and heart swelled.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” he found himself breathing; broken, husky words pregnant with uncertainty and a sudden fear. Once they crossed this line, there was no going back. She still had a chance, a choice. He didn’t. Not anymore. It was all or nothing, and Logan had the distinct feeling that his fate would always be the nothing.

Brushing off the sense of foreboding, and echoes of mocking voices, he kissed her again. Waited for an answer.

She nodded, almost imperceptibly, but it was there, as was the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide. She never succeeded. It made him want to cuddle her close and never let her go, to beat his chest and roar at anyone who dared to bring her to harm. Himself included.

Stunned realization dawned at the same moment her fingers found him. He let out a hiss of pleasure-edged-pain, dropping his forehead into the crook of her neck as she swallowed and let out a breathy sort of gasp, her fingertips brushing across his flesh. He adjusted for her, allowing more room for her quest as the faint sound of metal teeth accompanied ragged breathing.

Zipper undone, he groaned and reached down to curl her fingers around his painfully hard cock. “Fuck.” Short, succint, and to the point. The corners of her eyes crinkled again, and he could nearly see the wheels turning inside her mind. Knew she was analyzing and studying him now, the way she would a piece of important evidence.

“Stroke it,” he murmured softly, eyeing her through his lashes with bated breath. Wondering how she would react to his lewd command. Worried that she wouldn’t approve. Terrified she would.

It was so subtle that at first he wondered whether he was simply imagining it; a fevered result of muddled dreams that plagued him night after night. Then it happened again, a soft caress, and he was lost. His lips found the spot just under her ear, the sensitive patch of flesh that seemed to be directly connected to her clit. He’d often wondered if he could make her come by tonguing it, tracing the trail of goosebumps down her body until she begged him to fuck her senseless. Until she forgot that anyone else had ever existed.

Testing his theory, he laved the tender skin once, twice, and was rewarded when she stiffened in delirious pleasure, her fingers closing more tightly around his dick. Stroking. Seducing. She was panting in his ear now, a glazed look in her eyes as he continued to nuzzle her neck.

“Ohmygodyes…Logan…” she whimpered, hips undulating in time with every lick. The idea that he’d yet to even touch her and she was already near the edge made him feel more like a man than a thousand fucks with another girl.

“Damn, you’re gorgeous,” he managed, sitting up on one elbow and staring at her, jaw clenched. “Do you want my fingers, babe?”

She shook her head no, and whimpered, “Yes.” Always Veronica. Always two sides of the coin. Normally he would have conceded to the more rational voice, ended things and kept them both on safe ground. This time, the ground collapsed before he could catch either one of them.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, body and voice taut with passion as he slid his hand beneath her skirt. Smooth thighs. Silky underwear. Wetness and slick heat met his fingers and he drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, damn.”

She squirmed beneath him, making sounds he couldn’t recognize as she squeezed his cock again. Her legs tightened, trapping his hand between her thighs as she began to ride his fingers.

Things should have been perfect. He should have kissed her, deep and wet, fingers softening and spreading her for him. He should have tasted her breasts, tugged her nipples, suckled them.

Had things been perfect, he might have nudged himself between her thighs and sank deep inside. Found peace within her, for both of them. Fucked her. Loved her. Protected her. Cherished her. She might have made him perfect.

But in the end, perfection was ruined by shattered glass and gun powder. By his own reckless need to self-destroy. And as he protected her, covering her body with his own as her screams filled the air, he knew perfect had never even had a chance. And when he helped her up, caught the stunned hurt in her eyes, he knew the end was coming.

Sooner or later.


NEPTUNE, CALIFORNIA
FEBRUARY, 2006


Her eyes watched him now with measured coolness.

He approached with ease, hands in his pockets and a swagger in his step, even as nerves bunched in the pit of his stomach. As they did whenever he saw her.

He’d gotten better at hiding his feelings for her, and in truth, sometimes he forgot about them completely. She made it only too easy to do so, and in a way he supposed he was thankful. But it only took one look at her to bring it all back—every kiss, every touch. Every argument. Every curse. Every moment of pain. Of pleasure.

He was drawn to her like a goddamned moth to a flame, and no matter what he did, he inevitably found himself burned. He was beginning to enjoy the blisters, which only spoke of how tormented he really was.

“Ah,” he said, pausing a few feet away from her and making a show of looking around the semi-deserted parking lot. “Where’s your little black shadow?”

Her lips tightened at the veiled slur and she sent him a disdainful smile. “Balling, would be my guess.” Her teeth flashed. “And why aren't you off somewhere, tying defenseless women to train tracks?"

"I haven't found any defenseless women to tie up lately. I did cunningly stroke my handlebar moustache earlier, though."

Veronica's smile faltered. "What about the new girlfriend? You know, you’re supposed to throw the young ones back in the water.”

“I like to reel them in first,” he drawled nastily, wanting to provoke some kind of emotion from her. Something other than icy restraint.

This time, there was a distinct spark in her eyes, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. "Don't be a dick, Logan," she replied sweetly, her eyes focused somewhere over his shoulder as the snide smile returned. "You have enough of them as it is."

As if on cue, an exuberant voice shouted, "Logan! Dude!" and Dick Casablancas appeared, skanky blonde in tow. Logan had to cringe, meeting Veronica’s amused gaze and raising a brow, silently ceding the point.

“Veronica,” Dick said absently, and Logan waited, half-exasperated and half-expectant, for his friend to start in on her. But Dick quickly dismissed her and returned his attention to Logan.

“Dude. What’s up with you and the sophomore? You hittin’ that?”

Logan and Veronica both froze, eyes locking as Dick’s blonde slapped him on the arm and giggled in a high-pitched voice, “They used to date, you ass. Awkward, much?”

Immediately, Veronica snapped out of her trance, turning toward Dick and the unknown blonde with a blank expression. “Yeah, he’s breaking my heart,” she quipped sarcastically. “I better pick up some razor blades on the way home.”

She stormed away, the only hint that she was less-than-composed, and Logan’s heart skipped erratically, eyes trailing after her. He barely heard Dick reply in confusion, “Huh? She needs to shave her legs?” before starting after her.

“Veronica, wait up.”

She didn’t, of course, merely picking up speed as she twisted through the growing crowd like a petite blonde tornado.

“Veronica!” He managed to catch up with her as she turned a corner and broke into a run. “Damn it, Veronica…slow down. I want to talk to you.”

She spun around without warning, causing them to collide. Logan caught her, instinctively wrapping her into his arms to keep his balance. She shoved away from him, eyes flashing dangerously.

“You leave that poor girl alone,” she demanded, voice quivering with barely restrained hostility.

He stared at her, then let out a disbelieving chuckle. “Yeah, okay babe. Get real. And get over it.”

“Get over what?” she asked irritably, tossing her head in a move that was so unlike her he was momentarily speechless. She appeared the perfect image of female umbrage, and slowly, his anger began to melt into something more interesting.

“You sound jealous, Veronica,” he said quietly, with triumph.

It was her turn to laugh, but the sound was a little too over the top to be genuine. “Are you on crack now? Jealous, Logan? Is that what you think?”

“Then why do you care what I do with Hannah?”

“Because I know you, and I know her connection to you,” she bit out hastily. “And I know you’re not above using an innocent girl to get what you want. What if she ends up really liking you, Logan? What happens when this is all over?”

He grew angrier as she continued her tirade, forcing himself to keep from stalking over and yanking her up to the tips of her toes and…well, decking her crossed his mind. Not that he’d ever hit a woman, but the fantasy certainly held some appeal at the moment.

The stronger inclination was to wipe that sanctimonious expression from her gorgeous face with a kiss that would remind her exactly why she tried so hard not to touch him in any way, shape, or form. Remind her of the heat that still simmered between them, not far below the surface.

She could deny it all she wanted, but it was there. He knew it. It had to be – there was no way he was the only one feeling all of this misplaced lust and desire.

“And if I really care about her?” he retorted, wanting to lash out and wound her the way she so easily injured him. “She’s great! She doesn’t accuse me of orchestrating every damn thing that goes wrong in her life, and as you said, she actually likes me. She isn’t ashamed of me, like everyone else I know. She—”

“Oh, please!” Veronica interrupted, voice thick with something he didn’t recognize as tears. “You don’t know how to care about anyone, Logan! Not anymore. Not since—”

“Lilly?” he finished so quietly that she flinched. “Go ahead and say it, Veronica. Since Lilly, right?”

Veronica licked her lips slowly, but didn’t back down. “It’s like you’re trying to punish every female alive for what she did to you,” she whispered.

He made a disgusted sound, and felt like slamming his fist into something. “Oh, here we go.”

“You have to let it go, Logan.”

He lost it then, moving so quickly that she didn’t have time to cry out as his mouth came down on hers, and his body crowded her against the building. She succumbed immediately, wrapping a leg around his waist and matching the bruising heat of his lips.

They broke apart almost instantly. Their eyes locked.

“Last summer…I did let it go,” he managed, releasing his hold on her thigh. Her foot returned to the ground; she fell back against the wall and breathed heavily, meeting his frustrated gaze. “And you know what, Veronica? I’m just not trying anymore. Not for you.”

Her eyes widened in rememberance, then closed off in realization. He left her standing there, bleeding a little inside at the finality of their encounter as he walked away, spying Hannah’s smiling face in the distance. She was perfect.

And he knew, without a doubt, he’d lost the game.