Fic: 'Do It for the Scars and Stories' (Veronica Mars, gen, R, 1/1) Title: Do It for the Scars and Stories Fandom: Veronica Mars Characters: Logan, Weevil Word Count: 515 Rating: R (for language) Spoilers: N/A Challenge: Leap for Prompts (29/29): Veronica Mars, Logan Disclaimer: No one mentioned belongs to me. [Title from "Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends" by Fall Out Boy.] Summary: Logan goes looking for trouble. It's a bad idea, and he knows it, but it's already cemented.
Do It for the Scars and Stories
They say, "You want a war? You got a war" But who are you fighting for? - "Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends", Fall Out Boy
If Logan was ever going to write a travel guide, he'd call it Logan Echolls's Big-Ass Book of Places That Fucking Suck. Chapter one: Neptune High School. Oh, if these hallowed halls could talk... blah, blah, blah.
He's stuck in class, and he's maybe a little hungover, which isn't his usual M.O. on a Tuesday, but it was a long night last night, and anyway, he feels like shit and doesn't even remember what the hell class he's in. It's making him pissy. He's slumped in the back by the door and Dessen (if it's Dessen, it must be history) sounds like one of the adults from Charlie Brown.
Logan leans back in his seat a little bit, even though the rocking makes his stomach protest, and obtains the perfect vantage point for staring into the hallway. And catching Weevil saunter into the bathroom.
It's a bad idea, and he knows it, but it's already cemented. Logan waits until Dessen's back is turned, then in one surprisingly fluid motion, he's out of the chair and slipping out the door before anyone can say anything.
Weevil's washing his hands, alone, and Logan leans against the wall with a smirk. "Try all you want, Paco, I don't think substandard soap is going to help."
"Right, right, I'm dirty. Whatcha got for me this time, Echolls? I'm dirty 'cause I'm a spic? 'Cause I'm poor?"
"Hey now, don't limit yourself. You can be both."
"Nice of you to say. But really, it's just 'cause I've had my finger up your girlfriend's ass."
Lilly's been dead for almost forever now, it feels like, but Logan's hands curl into fists anyway. He doesn't know why he doesn't follow through.
"Shouldn't you be in class?" he asks snidely instead. It feels like a cop-out. "At least put in an appearance, it's good for the alibi."
"No alibi necessary. When your pretty face gets pounded in, I want everyone to know it was me."
"Aw, you think I'm pretty." He knows his smile is a nasty one.
"This isn't the gilded bathroom the 09ers usually use. You got a reason to be in here?"
"Well, I use the nice bathroom for number one, and your little shithole for..." he shrugs. "Seemed appropriate."
"I don't know what they're telling you at that fancy mansion of yours, but it isn't any better coming out of your ass than it is outta mine."
"Aren't we just fixated with my ass today," Logan retorts. Energy is humming down his skin, burrowing beneath it, and this is kinda the best he's felt all day. "Something you're not telling me?"
"Just encouraging you to enjoy your last few moments with it before I kick it."
"As if you could reach that high," says Logan. It lacks panache, but Weevil bristles. There's a moment where Logan wonders if Weevil's going to restrain himself and pussy out, but he must be having a shitty morning, too. He swings, cracks his knuckles off Logan's jaw, and Logan wipes the corner of his mouth with a grin. This is what he needs.