zeegoeshere

I am in one of those moods where I rail and grouse at the universe for not giving me enough fic for a pairing I crave wildly. Not Bright/Ephram this time--Logan/Weevil.

I know, I know, I've ranted about this before. And I've begged for recs before. Just, damn--they have practically fucked onscreen, folks! I might say that it's just a symptom of VMars being more of a het fandom than a slash fandom--but you know, *Dick/Cassidy* gets fic. (And no, I will fucking *never* get the appeal of those two, together or separate.) And I realize that fandom is obsessed with Poor Little Rich Boys, but it is so frustrating to finally have a show that gives me wonderful black and latino characters, and then have the fandom be 99% obsessed with the rich white side of the cast. (Especially when, to me, s1 VMars's entire *point* was that all the 09ers were brainless jackasses. How is that interesting?)

Come on, fandom! Half of my OTP is a poor little rich boy--seriously, write your fic about how angsty and horrific and drug-filled Logan's life is, and just put in him sucking Weevil's cock in there somewhere. I don't ask for much!

Anyway--to put my money where my mouth is (but really, not so much, because I couldn't possibly write enough to make up for all the rants in my head), some--okay, two--unfinished Logan/Weevil snippets that I started way back when, and will never finish because they have probably been horribly jossed. And also because I'm lazy. I don't think these are the best ever, but eh.


***

Logan woke up with the acidic aftertaste of vomit sitting thickly on his tongue. He tried to swallow and couldn’t; his throat was too dry and he gagged instead, coughing and sputtering.

He began to sit up, but his head pounded and he saw stars, so he quickly laid down again. He could feel a scratchy, woollen blanket rubbing his body (everywhere, shit he was *naked*), and his skin felt clammy with sweat. He sniffed, and smelled... juevos rancheros?

The strong smell of salsa was too much, and he rolled out of bed, grabbing a trash can by the headboard and heaving until his stomach was empty.

He heard another voice groaning, and a muttered ‘What the fuck?’ There was someone else in that bed. He turned his voice, feeling dread pool in his gut.

He stared. “Please, please tell me this is just another one of those fucked up dreams I’ve been having.”

Weevil glared back at him. “If you’ve been dreaming about me, I don’t wanna know about it.”





Aaron Echolls was arrested sometime in May. Logan Echolls spent almost the entire following summer on Eli Navarro’s couch.

It started two days after the bridge. Weevil woke up around noon and wandered into the living room to get to the kitchen to get to the coffee and hangover remedies, stumbled over Logan’s feet and a variety of video game wires and fell on his face.

Logan beamed down at him. “Good morning, sunshine.”

Weevil got to his feet as gracefully as he could. “What the *fuck* are you doing here?”

“Your grandmommy let me in. Sweet lady, though she apparently puts a lot more effort into cleaning my house than yours.”

The only reason Weevil didn’t punch him was because he knew Logan wanted him to. “You didn’t answer my question, *bitch.* What the *fuck* are you doing here?”

“I’m not one of your bike lackies, you know. You can stop with the act.” Logan craned his neck to see the TV screen around Weevil, his hands moving quickly over the video game consul.

Weevil grabbed it out of his hands. “Get the hell out.”

Logan stared up at him, raising one eyebrow. “My house is swarming with policemen and reporters; same with my best friend’s house. I just found out that my dad killed my girlfriend after fucking her under my nose for who-knows-how-long. And *you* beat the shit out of me last night because you thought that *I* had killed Lilly.” He smirked. “So *you* are going to let me stay here for as long as I want, because not even you are enough of an asshole to kick me out right now.

Fuck. Weevil didn’t bother to answer him, just stomped into the kitchen, hoping that Logan will be gone when he gets back.

But Logan had only switched games when Weevil finished eating. “If you’re not gone by the time I get back, I’m calling the cops,” he snapped, grabbing his jacket and keys. Logan just saluted him.

Logan *was* gone when Weevil got back after dinner, but at three in the morning he was woken up by the sound of a truck’s engine and someone stumbling up to the door.

He was out of bed and yanking the front door open by the time Logan got to the porch. “Fuck off.”

Logan looked at him blearily. He had another black eye, matching the one Weevil gave him the night before, and plenty of fresh cuts and bruises. He *reeked* of alcohol.

“Your grandma’s mush nicer,” Logan slurred.

“Yeah, well, maybe she was cussing you out in spanish and you just didn’t *know* it.” Weevil didn’t move.

Logan just sighed. “Look, I stupidly went to a sketchy gay bar and nearly got my ass date-raped, okay? I’m not in the mood to fight with you, so drop the tough act and let me in.”

“You can sleep on the fucking porch.” Weevil closed the door in his face.

He hadn’t really expected Logan to *actually* sleep on the porch, but when his grandmother woke him up by yelling at him about hospitality and being an asshole in the morning, he figured out that that’s what must have happened.

And yup. Logan Echolls was curled up, fully clothed and snoring quietly, on his front porch.

Weevil kicked him. “Wake up.”

“God, you’re a really shitty host, you know that?”

“Yeah, I kind of *am* when people don’t *ask* before deciding to live at my house. What the fuck, man? You must have ten mansions in California alone.”

Logan looked like he wanted to hit him, but it would be too much effort. “Yes, because I *really want* to live off my father’s money right now.”

Weevil was *not* going to feel sorry for him. “Don’t you have other people to mooch off of? Like, actual *friends?*”

Logan stared back at him calmly. “If you *really* didn’t want me, you would have already kicked my ass to the curb.”

“I kind of thought you’d get the picture when I slammed the front door in your face.” Glaring or bitching any more was kind of pointless, though. Logan had already endeared himself to Weevil’s grandma, which meant the battle was lost.

Weevil turned around and went back into the house, not bothering to invite Logan in, and as expected Logan just followed him.


Seriously, if anyone has Logan/Weevil recs, gimme. Comment porn also hugely appreciated.

edit: okay, so this post prompted me to try and catch up on VMars s2; I'm in the middle of 2x11.

WOW. JUST WOW.

THAT WAS A BLATANT ADVERTISEMENT FOR A DOT MAC ACCOUNT, WASN'T IT.

Oh, TV. Your love affair with Apple is so adorable sometimes.