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[FIC] Patent Loyalty - Veronica Mars - Logan/Veronica
So anyway, a few days ago I was in a hardcore writing mode. I wanted prompts, ideas, stories, which is why I posted that whole "LET ME WRITE YOU A DRABBLE" thing over at the other journal. In the midst of that schreibenlust (lol incorrect German) I signed up for a couple of challenge communities, and I just completed my first response.

This fic is a response to the challenge over at vmlyricfic. I'll give you my lyric and item at the end of the story. Don't be fooled by the premise of this one: there's nothing explicit in it at all. It was just an idea that I thought would fulfill the challenge requirements so I ran with it. It's more fluffy than anything else, although I tried for humour as well. Give it a go!

Title: Patent Loyalty
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Pairing: Logan/Veronica
Words: 3853
Rating/Warnings: I'd give it a R, just in case. Hardly any swearing, no violence, but the premise centres around S&M. There's no explicit activity, and nothing hard between our intrepid heroine and her boy. It's a non-spoileriffic fic as well, set in a summer of your choosing with the idea that Logan and Veronica are together as a couple.
Summary: Veronica gets an...unusual request, and Logan comes along for the ride.



Veronica sat back in her father's chair, resting a thumb under her chin in what she hoped came across as a considering manner. "So, let me get this straight," she said, eyeing the woman in front of her with some confusion. "You think your..."

"Slave," the woman supplied helpfully.

"Is cheating on you with another..."

"Master." Caroline Saunders nodded. "Jacob...he's been, so...well, willful lately. He's developed an attitude, a disdain for me and the arrangement we have together. I think he's found someone else."

Veronica nodded carefully, a calm smile masking her extreme non-handle of the situation. Not only did she have no idea of what this potential client was on about, the little that she could piece together was making her feel slightly perturbed.

"Forgive me, Mrs Saunders," she started.

"It's Ms," the woman corrected her, wringing her pale fingers together in visible alarm. "I'm not married."

"So your slave --"

"Perhaps it would be of help if I explained our lifestyle somewhat, Ms Mars?"

Yes, thought Veronica, clarification would be welcome at this point. She nodded and gave a careless little hand wave. "Go right ahead."

Caroline Saunders, as it turned out, led a far more interesting lifestyle than her straight brown hair and tasteful attire would have people believe. Veronica had discerned some of it, what with the whole comment about the slave, but it seemed Ms Saunders had a teensy-weensy kink.

She was into S&M.

Jacob Forrester, the man she was planning on paying Mars Investigations Gold rates to follow, was the M in the relationship. He and Caroline met at least three times a week for playtime and punishment, and the way Caroline explained it, they enjoyed equal servings of both. Their arrangement had been going on for the past six months, and there'd been no obvious sign of dissatisfaction, nor anything out of the ordinary until very recently.

Happy days seemed to be over now, and it had all started three weeks ago, after Jacob attended a party without his master's approval.

"He got a flier," Caroline explained tearfully, dabbing at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. Veronica tried to imagine non-threatening Caroline as the S in the equation, but failed spectacularly. She was just too darn...nice. "It was a coded invitation to a party in Westfield. We had plans to attend together, but a thing came up at work and he went without me even though I told not to go." Her lips thinned out into a hard line and Veronica conceded that maybe the woman had an edge after all.

"When did you see him next?"

Caroline sniffed. "Two days after. He showed up at my place a day late for our usual appointment. At first I thought he just wanted some extra punishment-" her hand fisted on her thigh and she seemed to flush a bit, "-but then he seemed a bit smug, like he had a secret, like he was keeping something from me."

Veronica picked up a pencil and tapped it against her cheek. "Did you immediately link his behaviour to the party?"

"No." Caroline shook her head. "I didn't find out that he'd gone until almost a week later, when Madame Montgomery called to say they'd missed me. He made it quite clear that Jacob attending alone had been quite the controversy, and that he'd been considered fair game."

Veronica spent a moment processing the intriguing notion of Madame Montgomery being a man. "Fair game, how?"

To her horror, Caroline started crying. "Don't you understand? Jacob is a masochist. He is drawn to strong men and women, almost against his will. It's in his nature to be dominated, he can't help but crave direction in some way. Alone in a house at least half-full of professional sadists?" She leaned forward and fixed Veronica with an angry, fearful glare. "No is not a safeword, Ms Mars. Someone at that party got their talons into my submissive. I want you to find out who, and fast."

She sat back and Veronica pretended that that hadn't just been an intense moment. "Talons, eh?" she joked, an attempt at lightening the air. "Some party."

"Yes," Caroline replied dismissively. "Down both shoulder blades, to the waist. That's why I say it's a professional. They knew just how hard to go so he wouldn't scar."

Veronica blanched. "Such...irrefutable proof," she said weakly, suddenly glad she'd never been exposed to this side of Neptune before. "So Jacob's lack of faithfulness is a given, but do you have any clear idea of who might have made a kitty scratchpost out of him?"

Caroline reached into the pocket of her suit jacket and withdrew a folded piece of paper. She pushed it across the desk. "I'm hoping you can tell me," she said.

Veronica picked it up and unfolded it, smoothing it out against the desk. "It's a picture."

"It's a code."

Even the 09er party fliers had more information on them than this. The paper was a photocopied sketch of a woman in Victorian costume, leading a large dog on a leash. They were walking up a small hill, a bigger one in the background with a clock tower perched precariously on the side. The minute hand was at the six, and the hour hand was missing entirely. A full moon hung over the scene, nine flying...things of some description spinning a lazy circle around the woman's head. Maybe they were bats. Veronica couldn't be sure.

And that was it.

"So, what does it all mean?" Maybe when the job was over, Veronica could add another skill to her repertoire. Interpreting Kinky Hookup Notices. That was a college course all in itself.

Caroline pushed some hair behind her ear. "It's a theme party, slave on a leash. Collars and bindings will be in full effect. The party will be held at Victoria's house in Westfield, Duhill Lane. It starts at nine-thirty." She gave Veronica an expectant look. "You'll be going, won't you? You'll figure it out?"

Veronica pushed the paper away. "Well, that depends. When's the party?"

"The night of the full moon," Caroline replied, her lips curling up into a small smile. "Tonight."

- - -

Veronica was still sitting at the desk in a sort of stupefaction when Logan arrived, knocking on the doorframe to announce his presence. "Earth to Mars," he called out wittily, sauntering into the room. "From the level of complete distraction, I simply must conclude you're thinking about me."

Veronica blinked, finally registering. "Huh? Oh, Logan."

He raised an eyebrow. "I think you mean a long oh, thus making it ooh. 'Ooh, Logan' is the correct response."

"Ooh, Logan--"

"That's more like it."

"--I need a favour."

He plonked back into a client's chair and rested his chin in his hand. "So I gathered from your message. You had your favour-voice on in full force."

That got her attention. "My...favour-voice?"

Logan nodded, smirking. "Yeah. You get a little breathy," he raised his voice slightly, "and kind of drag out the words. 'Loogan'," he mimicked, "'can you come right oover? I need to talk to you, aloone.'"

Veronica gaped. "I do not talk like that."

"I have proof, Deputy." He waggled his phone at her. "I save your messages. The needy strains of your dulcet voice will be my only solace for the long, lonely evening ahead." Pressing a hand to his chest, he affected a swoon. "Oh, the tragedy! Oh, the injustice! Despite her overprotective, gun-toting father being out of town for a whole week, my dearest girlfriend simply can't find time to spend with me as I wallow--"

"Are you free tonight?"

Logan snapped to his feet and sketched a salute. "Such sweet words are balm to my wounds!"

She grinned, pushing the invitation across the desk. "Well, here's the favour."

He picked it up, scrutinising the image. "You want my help looking at an ugly drawing. Professional opinion? It sucks. Can we go now?"

"Thank you, darling. My boyfriend, the art critic."

He tossed it back on the desk. "Seriously, what do you need help with?"

Veronica gave him what she hoped was a winning smile. "It's pretty simple, really."

"Mmm-hmm." He didn't sound convinced.

"I mean, what it all comes down to is just a shopping trip and a party. Nothing too difficult at all. It's for a case," she elaborated. "We're catching an unfaithful slave."

Logan wasn't one for extreme reactions - actually, he was, just not one for extreme surprise - but his lower lip dropped a little. "What was that last bit? My convenient deafness bust out on me and made it sound like you said 'slave'."

Veronica tried the winning smile again. "Know of a really good sex shop, by any chance?"

- - -

The LeBaron had been idling for five minutes before Logan reached over and pulled the keys from the ignition. Veronica turned to him slowly, a blank look barely visible on her painted face. She hadn't looked at him once on the drive over, and he was probably getting the wrong idea. She chanced a look, and yeah, it seemed that way. He was wearing a hurt expression.

And not much else.

She looked away again. "You know," she started conversationally, "maybe this was a bad idea. A colossal one. I can take you home and go in there by myself."

Logan made an incredulous noise. "You honestly think I'm letting you waltz in to a houseful of kinked-out strangers, dressed like that?"

She rounded on him. "Oh, so you think I can't take care of myself, is that it? You think that I would be overwhelmed by the sheer naughtiness of everything, and that I'd become weak against the little freakshow in there?"

His lower lip did the dropping thing again. "Last time I checked, Veronica, you were strapped up and zipped into a Dominatrix Barbie outfit. I don't think you will have a sudden attack of anything; I think some spineless little jelly-kicker will do whatever it takes to have you beat them till they're crying with joy." He looked furious.

"Well," she snapped less harshly, doused with cold logic, "I can't beat them anyway."

"Why not?" he countered defensively.

She held up the handle of her chosen accessory, leather strips pooling on the console between them. "I only brought a whip."

He looked incredulous for a moment, before letting out a bark of rueful laughter. "Veronica Mars, I don't know what to do with you. But like it or not, I'm coming with." He opened his door and got out of the car.

She sighed. "Fine. Can you get my boots out of the trunk?" She opened her own door, glancing down mournfully at the pair of flip-flops she'd worn for the drive over. They were old and they were comfy, and the boots that came with her outfit were anything but. Changing shoes would be like changing personality, and while props always helped her do her little acting thing, this was a bit bigger and a whole lot stranger than what she was used to doing on the job.

Logan appeared beside her, boots in hand. She kicked off the flip-flops and eased her feet into the leather, standing unsteadily and gripping the car roof for support. "You'll have to zip me into them."

Logan's face lit up. "That's an order, right? You want me to zip them up...with my teeth?"

She adjusted her bodice, moving the cords around for the camera hidden in one of the studs. "Time is of the essence, minion. If you're a very good boy, I'll let you take them off - later - however you want."

He knelt beside her ankles. "And if I'm really good," he said, sliding the zip up her calf, "will you keep them on?"

"Oh, Logan," she murmured, "You're so good at this acting thing. You can work for Dad any time you want."

He slid the other zip home and rose from his crouch. "And who said anything about acting, Mistress? Honestly," he leaned over, breath tickling her ear, "this is such a turn on." He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

"Mmm," said Veronica. "We should do this more often. Bend over so I can fix your collar."

Obligingly, Logan stooped, and she threaded the leather through metal until it was lying close to his neck. She reached into the car and pulled out the matching leash, attaching it to the collar ring before standing back and admiring her handiwork.

Logan had taken to the task very well, actually. Almost too well, if Veronica let herself dwell. He'd driven her to an adult store, helped her choose outfits for both of them and hadn't batted an eyelid at what she considered quite an outrageous request. Most boyfriends would probably object to being dressed in black leather boyshorts, a wristband, and nothing else.

She didn't know whether to be disturbed or relieved.

At the moment, she was just plain uncomfortable. Her ensemble was black leather too, but in her infinite wisdom (read: stupidity) she'd gone for the patent dominatrix look. What she hadn't factored in was that it was summer, and patent and skin made a by-product known as sweat. She was slipping dangerously in her bustier, and her panties were rubbing against her fishnets as well. The boots rode up over her thigh and she could feel the early hints of perspiration building up behind her knees.

She was supposed to be a sadistic bitch, and luckily, she felt like one. This wasn't going to require too much acting at all.

"Come on," she said, tugging at the leash. Like the slave he was portraying, Logan followed without complaint.

- - -

Veronica wasn't sure what she was expecting, but a cream stucco mansion was pretty much nothing like her inner ideal. Three levels of smooth walls and clear glass didn't rank highly on her list of places to hold a sex party.

She really hoped that they hadn't gotten the wrong house.

The doorbell was a gilded cherub, and the button was...well, in an original place, so she thought they'd probably gotten the right house after all. They waited on the steps as a gong echoed through the house, and Veronica's heart beat against her bustier the entire time. They'd come this far already, and she couldn't turn all soft now. She needed to be fearless and assertive. Yes, that's what she needed to do.

The door opened and a suited butler surveyed their ensemble without changing expression. Veronica swallowed, envying him his calm. This was it.

Tugging on Logan's leash, she stepped forward, invading the butler's personal space. "We're here for the party." She made her voice low and gravelly, tried to slip a hint of seduction in.

He just looked at her. "Do you have an invitation?"

She cracked a smile. "You know, that's what's wrong with this getup. No pockets! I'll have a stern talking to with my seamstress when I get home, if you know what I mean." She tapped the whip against her leg meaningfully.

The butler was unmoved. "Your invitation?"

She sighed theatrically. "Yeah, yeah." Clicking her fingers at Logan, she pushed her shoulders back as he fished inside her top. When he'd withdrawn the piece of paper, she snatched it off him and slapped the back of his hand for good measure. Passing it to the butler, she pushed past him into the house. "So, where to, Jeeves?"

The door closed with a soft click, and then he was leading them further inside. "The basement."

Of course that's where it was. Where else could the S&M kids go to play? Rolling her eyes at Logan, Veronica tugged on his leash, and they followed the stern-looking butler into the depths of the house.

It had looked pretty big from the outside, but the interior was like a maze. Veronica's five-inch heels sunk into the plush carpeting, and she was glad for Logan's presence as he worked unobtrusively at keeping her from stumbling around. She made a mental note to thank him later, but her mind was more occupied with the job for now.

They reached the end of a corridor and the butler pushed a switch. A section of panelling slid into itself, revealing a lift. Veronica tried not to look startled, but Logan seemed unimpressed. Of course, he was accustomed to ridiculous amounts of money. No doubt he was used to the ridiculous things people tended to spend it on, as well.

They stepped in and the door slid shut. Veronica could barely sense movement, but a moment later it opened again and she could finally confirm that they were in the right place.

If she didn't know better, Veronica would swear they'd just stepped into a club. Blacklights, neons and strobe lights threw scattered relief over the cinder block walls. Horror movie posters were slapped haphazardly all around, and a bar in the far corner had full shots lined up along the counter. Dance music blared from massive speakers in the corners and she could see a few long-shirted security men standing around, bouncer-like, at intervals throughout the room.

But it was the other people that proved it to her, the men leading women leading men in their leather and plastic and collars and restraints. One woman appeared to be wearing the exact same boots as Veronica, and she noted with a stab of jealousy that she seemed to be able to walk okay. A man in an executioner's mask - only an executioner's mask - stalked past confidently, assessing them quickly with a slide of blue eyes. She blinked and he was gone, and when she turned around, the butler was as well.

"Well," said Logan, wiping his hands on his pants. "Suddenly I feel overdressed."

"Time for work," she whispered. Feeling him nod, she ventured ahead.

Quite a few of the participants were masked, and Veronica cursed herself for not entertaining the possibility before. They were at a S&M party, for Christ's sake. These kind of people generally preferred anonymity. It didn't make finding Jacob Forrester impossible, but it would make it harder, and she didn't want to hang around all night.

Veronica tried to stalk. It was easier on the cool cement down here, and by the second rotation of the room she had a kind of bob-stomp thing going on. She could feel eyes on both her and Logan, and pretended she imagined the spike of attraction from the male members in particular each time she took a step. These boots - these heels - were not in the job description. She'd be billing Caroline Saunders' ass for the inconvenience of everything. Trying to remain calm, she smoothed down her creaseless bustier, and wished, not for the first time, for her flip-flops and shorts.

"H-Hi." A finger brushed over her elbow. She looked over to find a pale young man blinking at her, his other hand smoothing back his flat, blond hair.

"Hey-" she started, before remembering her role. "Unhand me," she commanded him icily, noting the flash in his eye with some dismay. "What makes you think you are worthy of touching, um..."

"The Snow Queen," Logan supplied helpfully.

She tapped him with the handle of her whip. "Yes, the Snow Queen."

The young man - boy, really, he seemed very young - licked his lips. "I-I'm sorry, Your Highness. I was just - I hadn't seen you here before, and I was emboldened by your beauty, so I dared to approach."

Veronica found herself mouthing emboldened, and knew that if she checked, she'd find Logan doing the same.

"You can punish me, if you so desire." He dropped his eyes and she saw his adam's apple move.

Yeesh.

"Surely that would be a matter for your own master," Veronica said carefully. "As you can see, I have a slave of my own. It's not my place to chasten you personally."

The boy looked up again and there was resentment in his eyes. "My master," he spat, slipping out of character for a moment, "seems pretty busy with someone else's slave."

Dropping Logan's leash, Veronica stepped forward, slipping a hand under the boy's chin. "Is that true?" she murmured, sliding her booted toe up the inside of the boy's calf. "You mean they've left you here, all alone, to fend for yourself?"

Logan hissed behind her, but she ignored him, focusing on the boy. He gasped as she moved her leg higher, nodding against her neck. "Yes," he groaned. "She's over there, in the corner. Making out with Jacob Forrester."

Veronica risked a glance over her shoulder, winking at Logan. He gave her a surprised sort of smile, his frown fading away.

"Let's go on over, shall we?" She patted the boy, feeling a rush of maternal affection. Maybe she could mend some bridges and get the money shot.

Hey, a girl had to have hopes in life.

- - -

"So I'm hoping we'll keep these costumes for another time," Logan said later as she eased the LeBaron back in to her parking spot at home. "Seems to me I didn't reap any benefits, and we both know that's not how it's supposed to go down."

"Always about you," Veronica chided, turning the ignition off and getting out of the car. "Did you ever stop to consider my feelings on the matter?"

Logan unfolded from his side and worked the collar off his neck. "Ah, that's better." He rubbed his shoulders. "Why don't you tell me your feelings? And then show me. We can interact!"

She sighed, rolling her eyes at him as she made her way to the stairs. "Well, for starters, these boots hurt like-- omph!"

The world spun for a moment as Logan swung her up over his shoulder into a fireman's carry, jogging up the steps two at a time. Veronica eyed his lower back and in the privacy of the moment, let her eyes drift lower as well. Mmm. "How very chivalrous caveman of you," she drawled to the leather near her lips.

"Just a little something I've been working on. Key." She handed it over and waited as he jiggled it around in the lock. "Aha, victory!" He opened the door and manoevered them in carefully, lifting her off and settling her back on her feet. He rested his hands on her shoulders for a moment, sliding his fingers up over her collarbone until they rested behind her ear. Leaning in, she met him halfway, pressing their lips together in a gesture of appreciation and love.

After a moment, Logan pulled back, resting his forehead against her own.

"Thank you," Veronica said, remembering her thought from before.

His eyes widened. "What for?"

She socked his arm, the whip having been left in the car. "For agreeing to this. For helping me out. I'm a lucky girl to have you and sometimes I don't tell you that as often as I should."

He smiled softly, pressing another kiss to her lips. "Well, I've never been a man swayed by words. Actions, dear Snow Queen, actions are what shall prove your love to me. We can start in the kitchen, work our way into the lounge room, move down the hallway, dally in the bathroom and then, only then, will we reach the pinnacle, the holy land known as Yore Oom."

Veronica grinned. "Or we could cut the journey and just go straight to my bedroom."

"I like that idea, too."

She held her arms out. "You're going to have to carry me. I can't walk another step in these boots."

"Is that an order, Mistress?" He eyed her smugly, but with a question on his face as well.

Veronica nodded, and smiled. "That it is."

And, just like always, he did as she asked and obeyed.

- - -
FIN

*The whole idea behind vmlyricfic is that you write a fic of over 1000 words in response to a particular lyric, but you also must include a specific item as well. My item was "flip-flops", which I assume are things you put on your feet. We call them thongs here, but that's a whole other road I could have taken with this fic. My lyric - loosely interpreted, but you should still notice it there - was from Lady Marmalade, "Wear high heel shoes/gettin' love from the dudes". It was Moulin Rouge month at the comm, and my two items seemed to cancel each other out.

Oh well, please let me know what you think of this one. It's my first time at Logan/Veronica, and I tried to play up the dialogue and interaction more than anything else.



Yay for challenges!