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Missing scene during M.A.D. Logan meets Veronica's waterbed.



The sink was dripping, but at least the water was warm. There was an improvement if she ever saw one.

There were few things in Veronica Mars’ life that went well. Her best friend? Dead. Her first love? Quite possibly her brother. The only constant family in her life? Ripped from her fingertips. Her arch nemesis? Sort of hot. And combined with the APs next month and the financial state, or lack there of, she was enduring, the future was not looking much better.

Granted, there are always days when one wakes up to Comfortably Numb as an omen on the radio, or when their Starbucks card only has a buck seventy five on it and your wallet’s in the car. Or days when you’re out of socks when it’s snowing outside and you have ten thousand forks when all you need is a knife. Isn’t it ironic?

Veronica didn’t think so. And as she took a wrench to the dripping sink, she hoped that it would know better too.

Drip

Whack

Drip

Whack

Dr— whack.

There, that was better.

There had to be something said for being able to fix an appliance in much the same manner as Arthur Fonzerelli. Veronica smirked at this thought, extending her arms to the side. “Eeeh,” she grunted, simply because she knew no one was listening.

Backup lifted his chin from his paws and cocked his head curiously. Nobody, save one.

When there’s a knock on the door when you’re in full dork mode (a severe social disorder that comes about when your father is in Tijuana searching for your ex-boyfriend/half-brother so that you can go to college, leaving you alone with your dog and no intention of throwing any sort of alcohol promoting celebration) is it safe to answer? At night, Officer Skippy had lectured her that “No, it is not” would always be the answer. But, when you are in need of a formidable charades opponent, there are always exceptions.

Alright Backup, two words? First word, sounds like “huawmf?” You do know that talking is against the rules. Alright, you’re going back to sleep… sleep deprivation? Is it sleep deprivation? Yeah, let’s just pretend it is. Good game.

“Coming,” she called out desperately.

Perhaps Backup would challenge her to a rematch some other day.

Rushing to the door, she took a glimpse of her company from behind the woven blinds, nearly ripping the door open before she was struck with the distinct feeling of being watched.

If I was a private investigator father, with my baby girl home alone, where would I hide the cameras? Not that he didn’t trust her, of course he didn’t, what over protective father would? Especially if said daughter happened to be Veronica Mars.

Dragging her eyes across the room, she mused the thought: If I were a camera, where would I hide?

Since when did they have tissues?

Narrowing her eyes, she crept over to the foreign box, lifting it from an arms length. When Keith Mars was behind a plot, booby traps were always to be kept in consideration. Upon not being met with an ink bomb, Veronica took closer inspection.

Empty. He was onto her.

Veronica Mars, Neptune’s renowned teen private investigator extraordinaire, was on the case of the empty tissue box. Take that Nancy Drew.

A red flash caught her eye leading it to a tented newspaper on the bookshelf. Perhaps in his haste to procure a $50,000 reward, his bugging skills were momentarily forgotten. Flipping off the offending camera, Veronica made her way back to the door, opening it coyly.

“May I help you?” She asked, peeking her head innocently through the opening.

He was only slightly amused. The smirk on his face was too heavy with adoration to tell. He took a step forward to lean a shoulder against the frame. “You know, it’s proper etiquette to answer a door within an hour of acknowledging somebody’s presence on the other side of it.”

She arched a challenging brow and placed a hand on her hip for good measure. “I thought it was proper etiquette to call before venturing off on a… what do the kids call it again these days?” Cocking her head in a mocking ponder, she tapped her finger against her chin before plucking the word from the space between them. “Oh yes, a booty call.”

“And I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Veronica gave him a teasing shrug. “Guess again.”

Logan Echolls.

She never expected to care about him.

She recalled when she first heard that his mother was dead. She was struck with a momentarily weightless feeling, when the speed of sound is delayed as if trapped in an alternate reality, but then it had passed and it was business as usual. Of course the thought oh him did cross her mind. But only in the fleeting condolences you offer towards someone you’ve written out of your life because they have done the same to you.

But then he had to change his mind.

She never really considered him to be much of a human being. When he dated Lilly, he was essentially filling a guest spot. Of course this recurring role lasted for two years, but she never looked beyond the surface. She never imagined that Lilly’s death could affect him too.

But it had.

And what is so great about living?

Then she had to look beyond that sardonic glow in his eyes. Despite any evidence to the contrary, that she had been well privy to for the past year, there was no doubt in the newly discovered fact that Logan Echolls was in fact human.

And despite her greatest efforts, she sort of liked him… a lot.

“Unbelievable,” he shook his head. Logan folded his arms across his chest, “I drive all the way across town to see you and this is the thanks I get. Do you know how much gas costs these days?”

She rolled her eyes, “I’m sure the allowance daddy is giving you has taken a real beating to it.”

“I did have to sell the pony,” he replied. “And that train that used to run around the living room,” he added, shooting his hand through the air to mimic the path of the forgotten train. “Besides, I didn’t come here for you. I wanted to know if you heard anything about Duncan.”

She lifted her brows curiously, “Really?” She said with that blend of disbelief and sarcasm only Veronica Mars could hit.

“Yeah,” he said. “Seeing you was an added bonus.”

“Now that’s what a girl wants to hear. That they’re second, tsk tsk Romeo.”

On the short list of obstacles (as juvenile as some of them were) between Logan, Veronica, and their relationship, Duncan Kane lurked very close to the top slot. A perfect buzz kill for any type of festivity. Next topic up for discussion, mass genocide anyone?

“My dad’s following a lead in Mexico, but there’s still no word.” Gauging his reaction, Veronica was suddenly curious as to whether Logan wasn’t much of a conversationalist or if he knew more about the ‘Case of the Missing Duncan’ than he let on. “Why? Have you heard from him?”

Logan dropped his gaze. “No.”

How can you tell if a liar is lying? Then again, how can you tell if a liar is a liar? Especially when Logan had never technically lied to her before.

“Anything else?” She prompted. “I mean it is a school night and I’ve got a date with a very lonely slab of chicken Kiev.”

“Your dad’s out of town?” Some things never miss the ears of a teenaged male, especially sentiments of parental free housing.

“And unless your father is taking classes in apartment complex maintenance, I doubt he’ll be making any appearances either,” she added.

“So can I come in?” He asked after a quick beat.

Veronica pressed her lips together, “Sounds a little risqué, don’t you think?”

He smirked, “Isn’t that how you like it?”

Tilting her head, her jaw dropped with amused shock as she said, “Are you propositioning me?”

“Veronica Mars?” He questioned. “Never.”

“Good then,” she nodded with satisfaction. It was then she noticed her newfound level of restraint. Not since he kissed her last week with veiled hopes of a future had she been able to resist him. Especially not in this close proximity.

“I just figured you’d be awfully lonely all by yourself in this…” he glanced past her shoulder into the living room, “quaint apartment.”

She rolled her eyes. “You were better off with the strongly promiscuous overtones.”

“You are being awfully fickle this evening.”

“You need at least one good cheesy love cliché before you pass through this door,” she shrugged. “House rules. And may I suggest, ‘let’s get making with the love?’”

“I want you to want me?” He suggested.

Veronica grabbed his hand with a devilish grin. “Adequate,” she said pulling him inside and closing the door behind him.

Almost immediately his lips found hers, his fingers tangled in her hair. They spun out of control across her living room crashing into the kitchen counter and leaving Veronica pinned against it.

Logan hoisted her onto surface, melting her neck with searing kisses leaving her head fallen back with desire. His hands ran up and down her sides catching the hem of her hoodie and burning the revealed skin beneath his touch.

Veronica locked her ankles around his waist, pulling her body flush against him. Bringing his lips back to hers, she lingered in a soft kiss before she traced his lower lip with the tip of her tongue, biting it between her teeth.

He grinned, dipping her back against the counter, his mouth moving over hers with an impassioned greed. Cupping her face in his hand, he gently skimmed his thumb along her cheek before breaking the kiss despite her inaudibly murmured protests.

Eyes still heavy with lust, Veronica dragged her tongue across her lips before pressing them tightly together to capture the final traces of his kiss. “That was nice,” she said, her mouth twisting into a crooked grin.

“Good,” he said capturing another kiss.

“Good,” she repeated kissing him thoroughly.

Logan lifted her from the counter, her legs still hooked around his waist as they stumbled down the short hallway and into her bedroom. With a thud they landed on her bed… or was it a splash?

Convinced that only moments ago they were on solid ground, Logan opened his eyes, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What’s wrong with your bed?” He asked carefully, his lips still firmly attached to hers.

She laughed, “Are you not feeling the Water World theme?”

“No,” he kissed her cheek, “I just never saw you as the 70’s paraphernalia type.”

Fisting his shirt between her fingers, she pulled him back against her, “Another one of my father’s mean tricks,” she said pressing her mouth to his, her tongue teasing his.

Her hands roamed up and down his chest before peeling off his tee shirt, her fingers fluttering against his heated skin. Pushing him onto his back, she straddled his stomach and pressed a kiss against his chest and setting a heated path back to his lips.

“Somebody is rather feisty,” he said gripping her lean waist.

Veronica arched a suggestive brow, “I’m full of surprises.”

“And I have nothing but gratitude for that.”

He gripped the tab of her zipper, sliding it open with a metallic rip and slipping the velour hoodie past her shoulders.

She smirked, discarding the offending material. Logan sat up onto his elbows to nibble on her shoulder, the ivory flesh sweet to his tongue. Veronica let her head fall back in delight as his kisses moved along her collarbone.

Pinning him back against the mattress they continued to slosh on the unstable bed. He ran his touch down the curve of her back, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of her tank top.

“Uh, uh, uh,” Veronica teased batting his hands away. “You’re my guest.”

He chuckled, “But I feel so exposed and vulnerable.”

“I knew Logan Echolls had an insecurity somewhere,” she said smothering him with another kiss.

“I always knew you were using me to feed off my weaknesses,” he mumbled against her lips, his fingers carefully tracing her spine. “I was always warned to beware the half-pints.”

She sat up, resting her hands on his chest for support, “Are you making fun of me for being small?”

He grinned and took a hold of her wrist to pull her flush against him. “No,” he said between kisses. “I’m making fun of you because you’re short.”

Veronica was far too stubborn to take an unoriginal joke like this, and using her obvious advantage in his current state of excitement, rolled her hips against his growing erection.

Logan let out a grunt, gripping onto her waist as his hips lifted off the bed towards her heat, falling back against the mattress with a heavy flop and sending a wave pulsing through the bed.

“And I was feeling guilty for avoiding the beach as of late,” he said, their bodies still rolling over the settling ripples.

“I’ll gladly call Dick and the Beav to set up a surf date for you,” she offered.

“I much rather ride these crazy waves with you,” he winked. “You don’t understand, I’m using great restraint to avoid a boat riding innuendo.”

She rolled her eyes. “When are you going to take this relationship seriously?”

“When you get a real bed.”

Veronica framed Logan’s face with her hands before thrusting them onto the water mattress, causing a severe undulation to roll through.

“Next time I’m bringing Dramamine,” he murmured.

“You’re lucky that out of all the drugs to bring in the bedroom, Dramamine only ranks as slightly offensive,” she warned.

“Now see, I thought that’s what I was supposed to say to you,” he joked.

Veronica scoffed, slapping weakly at his chest. “You better be careful, I know dozens of ways to kill a man.”

“I’m going to ignore all the short jokes that entails,” he said. “But that’s just because I like you.”

He likes me.

Not at all dorky or girly, but still, he said it and it mad her feel good.

Logan rolled his body against the water bed again sending another surge of swells beneath them causing Veronica to laugh. “Somebody’s beginning to warm up to Bill.”

He narrowed his eyes, “Who’s Bill?”

“The bed’s name,” she said dumbly. “You don’t think I’d give my father the last laugh, now every night I tell him how I’m going to go sleep with Bill. Sometimes those brief moments of discomfort in considering the wordplay is enough.”

Sitting up on his elbows again Logan caught her earlobe in his teeth before huskily whispering, “I must say I’m kind of jealous.”

“Of Bill?” She asked curiously, “And why is that?”

He elbowed the waterbed for another roll of waves. “He has a much better stamina.”

“You’re right,” she said with teasing blue eyes. “You’d never measure up.”

They flashed each other silly shocked faces, and again she was laughing, left only with the desire to kiss him again… and again. Which she did.

Logan sighed heavily, “I should get going, my dad may actually notice that I’m gone.”

She frowned, “I guess that’s the responsible thing to do.”

“That’s the kind of stand up guy I am. Do you need a ride tomorrow with the Le Barron out of service?”

Veronica pursed her lips, “That seems to be an awfully public appearance. Our cover would be easily blown.”

“I can drop you off a few blocks away,” he joked.

“I’d be better off walking.”

“Or,” he began, “you could hide in the trunk and sneak out second period.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the super sleuth!” She leaned in to kiss him again. “No, I’ll scale new heights of Mount Lame through the public transportation service. Don’t want to give people the wrong idea.”

Climbing off his lap she reclined against her pillow, watching hi as he retrieved his shirt and slipped it over his head. “I’ve been thinking about that normalcy thing,” he finally said.

Veronica raised a brow, “Yeah?”

“I think I kind of want that too.”

There were few things in Veronica Mars’ life that went right. Her mother? In rehab. Her possibly real father? Possibly a real killer. Joan of Arcadia? Canceled.

But suddenly the prospects for the future weren’t looking so bad, for Veronica Mars was quite possibly falling for a boy, left only with the question: Can he play charades?