VM FIC: Childish Things (1/1)
25 Sep 2006 10:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kangeikoyeah, my first real attempt at getting into the head of any of the Neptune characters. So, um, probably not that successful. Not betaed either. Er. Concrit welcome.
TITLE: Childish Things
AUTHOR:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kangeiko
SUMMARY: She's got, like, a yo-yo of trauma. Dick POV, set post-S2 finale.
*
She's got, like, a yo-yo of trauma. At least, that's what he thinks Logan kept trying to say, and Dick was actually listening to him through his haze of alcohol. He was. Dude, like he'd come up with 'yo-yo of trauma' all by himself. Yeah, right. He's listened to Logan lecturing him, like it's all his fault - what to say, what not to say, and do not bring up Cassidy or That Night unless Veronica does so first. Her supreme blondeness still has her yo-yo to get through.
It's maybe wrong that Dick can figure out what that means. Logan has held off on punching his lights out for putting Beav- yeah, for That Other Night, the one that meant absolutely nothing to Dick and apparently meant a great deal to everyone else. Who fucking knew?
Logan hasn't asked him whether he's sorry, but then he hasn't kicked Dick out of his hotel room either, which is good news. Dick isn't really in the mood to head home right now and deal with the fucking empty house and his shit lying all over the place. All right; lying in his room like some neatness anal freak. What kinda man folds his pyjamas? Dude, that's just not right.
Also, thinking of his pyjamas when he should be going through the lot for Goodwill or whatever? So not a smart idea. He's supposed to be sobering up here - Logan's come up with some coffee and everything. There's also something that might or might not be pizza on the table, except that it's got Dick's sweatshirt sat in the middle of it. Still might be good to eat, though. Dick has never been particularly fussy about his food. He left all that OCD crap to - yeah.
He let his head hit the back of the couch again. Get it together. Get it fucking together, dude, 'cause any minute now Ronnie's gonna be walking through that door and he really doesn't have a fucking clue what to say. 'Sorry' seems to be hovering somewhere near the top, but that's somehow so fucking wrong he can't even wrap his tongue around it. What's he apologising for? I'm sorry I did what I did, even though I didn't know what the fuck I was doing? Yeah, that'd go over well. I'm sorry for what he did? Even better.
Also, there's this bit of him that just wants to pound her face into the pavement. No real reason. He just thinks that it might make him feel better, and he's not here to pound into the pavement so, dude, what the fuck? What the hell's he supposed to do instead?
The truth is, Dick is so mad he can barely breathe for it, and there's absolutely nothing he can do except get steaming drunk. I mean, Beav- shit! Cassidy did what he did, and he seriously fucked up and then fucked off, and Dick's left behind, mopping things up and trying to not let the muck reach him. Except that maybe it has already because it's been, like, a week, and who's been to see him?
Yeah.
He wants to call the Beav. Fuck it. He presses the palms of his hands against his face, pushing against the throbbing growing in his forehead. Fuck, dude, he so does not want to see Ronnie right now, 'cause he's got a fucking yo-yo all of his fucking own.
(There's a secret, horrible part of him that maybe sorta wishes that Cass had gotten away with it all; that Ronnie had gone face-first off the 'Grand, and then he'd come back down, and joined the party. He knows that he shouldn't think this. He knows its wrong.)
When he opens his eyes, Veronica Mars is standing in front of him, wrapped up in a thick black sweater and her hair scraped back. She's got horrible ugly shoes on, Dick notes, his gaze skimming down over her exposed calves before she flinches and he catches himself.
Yeah. That was one of the things he wasn't supposed to do.
Slowly, he rights himself on the sofa. He figures that he must look pretty unsavoury - covered in beer dregs and maybe a little bit of vomit, and bits of pizza, and basically not having moved or changed his clothes for the week. Veronica Mars, of course, looks fucking perfect, standing in front of him and looking at him like she doesn't expect anything at all but might burst into tears at any moment if he fails to deliver miracles.
(Beav had that same look every Christmas, Dick thinks, and wonders if he's got enough time to be sick again.)
"I don't have anything to wear," he says finally.
"That's okay. We'll figure something out," she says, and offers him a hand up from the sofa. It's small, and pale, and Dick only thinks about breaking it for half a second before the urge passes all by itself.
Logan's hovering over them both anxiously, practically wringing his hands, the big fucking mother hen, and Dick almost smiles before he takes Veronica's hand.
*
fin
TITLE: Childish Things
AUTHOR:
kangeikoSUMMARY: She's got, like, a yo-yo of trauma. Dick POV, set post-S2 finale.
*
She's got, like, a yo-yo of trauma. At least, that's what he thinks Logan kept trying to say, and Dick was actually listening to him through his haze of alcohol. He was. Dude, like he'd come up with 'yo-yo of trauma' all by himself. Yeah, right. He's listened to Logan lecturing him, like it's all his fault - what to say, what not to say, and do not bring up Cassidy or That Night unless Veronica does so first. Her supreme blondeness still has her yo-yo to get through.
It's maybe wrong that Dick can figure out what that means. Logan has held off on punching his lights out for putting Beav- yeah, for That Other Night, the one that meant absolutely nothing to Dick and apparently meant a great deal to everyone else. Who fucking knew?
Logan hasn't asked him whether he's sorry, but then he hasn't kicked Dick out of his hotel room either, which is good news. Dick isn't really in the mood to head home right now and deal with the fucking empty house and his shit lying all over the place. All right; lying in his room like some neatness anal freak. What kinda man folds his pyjamas? Dude, that's just not right.
Also, thinking of his pyjamas when he should be going through the lot for Goodwill or whatever? So not a smart idea. He's supposed to be sobering up here - Logan's come up with some coffee and everything. There's also something that might or might not be pizza on the table, except that it's got Dick's sweatshirt sat in the middle of it. Still might be good to eat, though. Dick has never been particularly fussy about his food. He left all that OCD crap to - yeah.
He let his head hit the back of the couch again. Get it together. Get it fucking together, dude, 'cause any minute now Ronnie's gonna be walking through that door and he really doesn't have a fucking clue what to say. 'Sorry' seems to be hovering somewhere near the top, but that's somehow so fucking wrong he can't even wrap his tongue around it. What's he apologising for? I'm sorry I did what I did, even though I didn't know what the fuck I was doing? Yeah, that'd go over well. I'm sorry for what he did? Even better.
Also, there's this bit of him that just wants to pound her face into the pavement. No real reason. He just thinks that it might make him feel better, and he's not here to pound into the pavement so, dude, what the fuck? What the hell's he supposed to do instead?
The truth is, Dick is so mad he can barely breathe for it, and there's absolutely nothing he can do except get steaming drunk. I mean, Beav- shit! Cassidy did what he did, and he seriously fucked up and then fucked off, and Dick's left behind, mopping things up and trying to not let the muck reach him. Except that maybe it has already because it's been, like, a week, and who's been to see him?
Yeah.
He wants to call the Beav. Fuck it. He presses the palms of his hands against his face, pushing against the throbbing growing in his forehead. Fuck, dude, he so does not want to see Ronnie right now, 'cause he's got a fucking yo-yo all of his fucking own.
(There's a secret, horrible part of him that maybe sorta wishes that Cass had gotten away with it all; that Ronnie had gone face-first off the 'Grand, and then he'd come back down, and joined the party. He knows that he shouldn't think this. He knows its wrong.)
When he opens his eyes, Veronica Mars is standing in front of him, wrapped up in a thick black sweater and her hair scraped back. She's got horrible ugly shoes on, Dick notes, his gaze skimming down over her exposed calves before she flinches and he catches himself.
Yeah. That was one of the things he wasn't supposed to do.
Slowly, he rights himself on the sofa. He figures that he must look pretty unsavoury - covered in beer dregs and maybe a little bit of vomit, and bits of pizza, and basically not having moved or changed his clothes for the week. Veronica Mars, of course, looks fucking perfect, standing in front of him and looking at him like she doesn't expect anything at all but might burst into tears at any moment if he fails to deliver miracles.
(Beav had that same look every Christmas, Dick thinks, and wonders if he's got enough time to be sick again.)
"I don't have anything to wear," he says finally.
"That's okay. We'll figure something out," she says, and offers him a hand up from the sofa. It's small, and pale, and Dick only thinks about breaking it for half a second before the urge passes all by itself.
Logan's hovering over them both anxiously, practically wringing his hands, the big fucking mother hen, and Dick almost smiles before he takes Veronica's hand.
*
fin
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-10-07 05:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-08 12:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-07 05:56 pm (UTC)I really liked how you made Veronica and Dick see past their own pain and see each other. Even though, yes, Veronica does have her own shit to deal with Dick has his own stuff to deal with and they are both permenantly interlaced because of Logan.
I just, yeah, loved this.
Thank you!
Date: 2006-10-08 12:45 pm (UTC)Even though, yes, Veronica does have her own shit to deal with Dick has his own stuff to deal with and they are both permenantly interlaced because of Logan.
It's my secret fannish kink - Veronica and Dick actually sharing screen time and dealing. What're the odds that wemight actually get them some screen time in season 3??
no subject
Date: 2006-10-07 06:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-08 12:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-07 08:10 pm (UTC)And I think you did a really good job with this, making him human to me. Traumatized, but not suddenly all deep and tortured, as if he suddenly acquired extra brain cells through grief. He is still Dick, and he hasn't got a first clue about how to deal with any of it. And his anger at Veronica and a secret wish that things had gone differently on that rooftop rings so very true to me. And yet, he is relateable, regardless. Because it's easy to see that he loved Beaver, as much as he was capable of loving anyone.
And his inner monologue is so quintessentially Dick! LOL. I loved the "yo-yo of trauma," and how he admits that he didn't come up with it himself. And the "mother hen" reference to Logan is hysterical, and also very true.
I really like the details: the fact that Beaver folded his pajamas, that Veronica reverted to her militaristic style post that night (it would so be her way of coping), that Logan is walking a very tight rope of trying to keep them both sane and safe, and how it's almost impossible.
It's a lot to convey in a short fic, and you did an amazing job.
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2006-10-08 12:48 pm (UTC)Yeah, me too - I would have liked to see him actually dealing with the fall-out of that on the show, and am actually hoping that Veronica and Dick will share some screen time in S3.
It's a lot to convey in a short fic, and you did an amazing job.
Thank you so much for all the kind words - it's an amazing compliment to receive such lovely feedback!
no subject
Date: 2006-10-08 10:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-08 12:48 pm (UTC)Really great job is it ok if I add this to my memories?
That's the ultimate compliment - go right ahead! *loves*
no subject
Date: 2006-10-08 12:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-08 12:49 pm (UTC)