Fic! Don't have a heartattack...

[jo_anne_storm]

Title: Stalking Rewrite
Author: Jo-Anne Storm
Rating: Teen
Pairing: LoVe
Word count: 960
Summary: Yet another rewrite to that scene.  This one done to distract tthjinni from her migraine.
Disclaimer: Only in my dreams do I own anything related to Veronica Mars.  Unfortunately, Rob Thomas owns them and he's ignored my offers to buy Logan.
Spoilers: 2.20: Look Who's Stalking
Notes: I can't snark.  So, the dialog between Veronica and Kendall is weak.
Warnings: None

Veronica had never given the key back.  She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t, other than an almost pathological need to be prepared.  Having a key card programmed to open the penthouse of the Neptune Grand was like having a key to a Vespa.  She may never need it, but it never hurt to have one.

 

Her preparedness had left her in good stead before.  She had three copies of every metal key in her possession, including the master key to the school.  One never knew when her massive keychain would get confiscated by some vice principal on a power trip.

 

Before dawn on the morning after the alterna-prom, she used the key to the penthouse for the first time since before Duncan had left.  She didn’t know what exactly to expect as she eased open the door, though the sight of Dick passed out on the white leather couch was no surprise.  Neither was the disastrous mess of bottles and cups scattered around the room.  She made a mental note to snark Logan into leaving a generous tip for the cleaning staff.

 

She bypassed Dick, who was snoring loud enough to wake the dead, and crept towards Logan’s room.  Really, she just wanted to check on him, nothing more.  Sneaking into the hotel had nothing to do with wanting to look at his face as she considered the implications of being epic.  

 

Logan was sprawled on his bed, still clad in the tuxedo he had worn so well.  If she were prone to flights of fancy, she would have said that there were tear tracks on his cheeks.  There was also a mostly empty bottle of champagne on the floor beside the bed, it’s contents long since spilled either on the floor or down a gullet.

 

She picked up the bottle and left the bedroom in order to deposit it in the trash.  Once she started cleaning, though, she couldn’t seem to stop.  She methodically cleaned the bedroom of any prom debris she found, casting frequent glances at the young man on the bed, both to assure herself that she wasn’t disturbing him and just to look at him.

 

She reluctantly moved into the main room of the suite once Logan’s room was picked up, the compulsion to clean too much for her to overcome.  No doubt if Dick woke up to see her, he’d treat her to a jibe about her future in domestic services, but luckily he snored on.

 

She had moved into Duncan’s former room, finding it empty but obviously used, when a loud knock sounded through the suite.  Dick’s snoring cut off midway and she could hear him stumble towards the door as she made her way to the main room.

 

She couldn’t control the sneer that graced her lips as Kendall— Pricilla— entered the suite, pushing past her still-drunk step son.  She looked perfectly coiffed and as beautiful as ever, making Veronica feel grungy in her own comfy clothes and eyes surely red from lack of sleep.

 

“What’s she doing here?” Kendall’s voice grated.  Dick grunted in response and fell back onto the couch.

 

“She,” Veronica answered, her own voice full of distain, is visiting a friend.”

 

“Oh, is Duncan back?”  The question was asked in a bright, false voice.

 

“Why, do you want to pass on another VD?” she returned in a voice just as bright. 

 

Kendall’s face froze.  “As if he didn’t enjoy every second he was with a real woman.  I taught him things you wouldn’t even dream about, little girl.”

 

“Do you ever get a burning sensation when you pee, Prissy?  Does Liam complain about an unpleasant itch?”

 

“Prissy?” Dick slurred.

 

“Well, she acts all prissy, don’t you think?  Like poor white trash that lied, cheated, and stole to get herself out of the gutter.  I bet she’s the kind of girl that would even steal another person’s identity.  Yeah, Prissy is the perfect nickname for her.”

 

Dick grunted in response as Kendall scowled at her.

 

“Go.  Away,” she enunciated, “Or I might be forced to call the good sheriff and tell him all about your name.  Wouldn’t want that to happen, would you, Prissy?”

 

Kendal growled, actually growled, as she turned away and stomped out of the suite, leaving Veronica alone with Dick.

 

“You too,” she said, ushering him to the door.  “Have the concierge call you a cab, or call Cassidy to pick you up.”

 

Dick found the wherewithal to answer just as she shut the door in his face, quickly flipping the lock to keep the world out.

 

Suddenly, her lack of sleep caught up with her, making her sway in the entryway.  Staying awake all night thinking of epic and bloodshed may not have been the best idea, but the thoughts had been whirling around her head to fast for her to sleep. 

 

She looked at the couch, considering its use as a place to nap.  The wet spot that she could only hope was drool was enough to rule it out.  The thought of sleeping in Duncan’s room, where who knew how many people had had sex the night before, was even more distasteful.  Sleeping in the Le Baron was out, since even her small frame would be uncomfortable in it and driving was quickly becoming impossible as the adrenalin rush from the past few hours finally left her.

 

Seeing no other options, and not looking too hard for any, she once again snuck into Logan’s room.  She kicked off her shoes before carefully climbing onto the bed and facing away from Logan.  She had just started to drift asleep when Logan shifted, slinging an arm around her stomach and pulling her close to his front.

 

With a content smile on her face, she fell asleep.