“This is a five-hour-long plane ride, we’re sitting together and you’re deathly afraid of flying” AU !!!!!!!!!!
Now, stop me if you’ve heard this one before, but this one got WAY OUT OF HAND.
Also, be proud of me because I really tried something new: instead of idiots to lovers, I wrote strangers to shameless flirts, but I have every confidence these two would also prove themselves to be idiots given enough time.
Finally, I consider this the ending with the handsome man I met on my flight from Madrid to Glasgow who asked for my number and flirted with me HARD and then vanished from my life that I deserved. RIP ALEC. WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN?! *** Title: High-Yield Investments Rating: PG-13 for swears (don’t laugh, Jennie) Fandom: Veronica Mars Pairing: Logan/Veronica (mere mentions of Wallace and Mac...like their names appear only once; the first-class flight attendant plays a more significant role) Additional Tags: Airplane Seatmates (OR, are they AIRPLANE SOULMATES??!! you be the judge), Logan has some mild flight anxiety, and Veronica has a giant crush Word Count: 3,100 AO3 Link BECAUSE THIS IS TOO LONG *** First-class, with its ample leg space, and seats wide enough to prevent her from knocking her seatmate’s elbow, is as dreamy as Veronica imagined it would be. Mars Investigations wasn’t in the habit of courting the wealthy as clients, but the occasional all-expense paid trip to New York was a hell of a professional perk. There’s also the nice little amenity kit she has no intention of using but did squirrel away in her carry-on.
Oh! And the snacks! The first class snacks were another major bonus.
Which, speaking of, she could really go for something salty. Traffic on the way to the airport meant she had to sprint for her gate without time to stop for coffee or lunch. Once on the flight she devoured the snacks in her amenity pack. Meal service isn’t for another hour and she can feel the start of a hunger headache.
But maybe—
“Want my chips?”
—maybe her seatmate could reveal himself to be a mind-reading weirdo. She turns to look at tall, dark, and probably-paid-for-his-own-first-class-ticket. He holds his bag of chips out to her. She wants them, of course, but why doesn’t he?
“Not a fan of prawn chips?”
“Not a fan of asphyxiation.” She blinks at his not-quite-an answer. “Allergic to shrimp.”
She reaches for the bag, then pulls her hand back. “Do you have an EpiPen?”
“As long as you don’t rub the chip dust on my face, I should be fine.”
“Noted.” She takes the bag from him.
He holds his hand out. “I’m Logan.”
“Veronica.” His handshake grip is firm, but not in that gross male posturing way she’s come to expect.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Logan returns to his book. Veronica angles her body away to open the chip bag. Given she’s already eaten a bag of the chips and nothing happened to Logan’s airway, it’s probably silly. But she absolutely refuses to be the unnamed woman in an article written about an airline passenger dying of anaphylactic shock 10,000 feet in the air. Mars Investigations is in enough financial trouble without her killing someone.
Though, now that she thinks it through, would the airline be the one deemed negligent? She makes a mental note to text Amir, her study buddy from law school. She’s pretty sure he still works in corporate liability law; he’ll know.
Veronica folds the empty chip bag and tucks it into her seat pocket. She fishes the sanitizer wipe from her amenity bag out of her carry-on and uses it to wipe down her tray table, the armrests, and any other surface where prawn dust might have settled. Better safe than lawsuit – that’s her philosophy.
