Their love is epic. And buttery.
Stephen King being Stephen King
He’s early so he decides to wait outside rather than call her. He doesn’t mind it. He likes the quiet before, the anticipation, the way his nerves skitter.
A gnat or a mosquito whines by his left ear and he swats the side of his neck. He looks at his hand, nothing. Except a long, thin scratch between his thumb and index finger that has nothing to do with insect bites and everything to do with Veronica’s unexpected (and unexpectedly delightful) drive-by last night. He smiles.
"I see someone’s in a good mood."
Shit. Fuck. Shit.
Keith Mars is standing on the sidewalk holding a bag of groceries, squinting at him with those I-see-everything-including-the-pornographic-thoughts-you-just-had-of-my-only-daughter eyes of his, dark and sharp as flint. Veronica said he still needed a cane to walk around but Logan notes that he is without and that he probably shouldn’t be. One of his legs is turned slightly inwards, the opposite shoulder tilts up to compensate and his mouth is tight in a way that probably has nothing to do with him. For once.
No one says his name like Keith Mars. It’s like he puts disappointment in the first vowel and suspicion in the second. When he was a teenager it used to make Logan want to prove him right, but now he only hears Veronica in it. Context, as they say, is everything.
Logan straightens up, squares his shoulders and extends his hand.
Keith takes it.
Jason Dohring (X)
made this forever ago and forgot to post it… found it in my drafts…
Just bull things.