Current mood:	flirty
Entry tags:	fic, hiding, veronica mars

just a little fic
Voila. First in the "Hiding" series.

Title: Spoiled Rich Boys
Author: Meriwether
Series: Hiding
Ship: none
Rating: PG to PG-13 for thematic
Timeline: Set during "An Echolls Family Christmas"
Summary: Weevil sees something that makes him wonder.


He’s hated Logan for years now, long before Lilly – ever since his grandmother went to work for the Echolls family. Then, it was a matter of principle. While Lilly was still alive, it was because he couldn’t stand the thought of that rich boy’s hands all over his girl. After she died, it was because everyone gave their sympathy to Logan – no one knew what he, Weevil, had lost.

But now, seeing the miserable look on Logan’s face as the other poker players – Sean, Duncan, Connor – ogle Lynne Echolls, he starts to consider that maybe his grandmother was right. Back when he was younger, she used to tell him, “Eli, that boy – his family has more problems than you know.” Then Lilly came along, and it was impossible not to hate Logan. Now, though, with Lilly gone for more than a year, the hate’s started to fade and he wonders, what made Logan into such a horrible person?
“Come on, guys, I wanna win that money,” he says, and sees a hint of gratitude cross Logan’s face before the guy wipes it away and replaces it with his trademark smirk.
“Not a chance, Weevs,” the guy replies, and they start the game back up.

A few hours later, when his five grand goes missing, his hatred of Logan resurges just as strong as ever – jackass thinks he can cheat Weevil out of his money? Not a chance. So he orders them all to strip down.
“What? Why?” Logan demands.
Weevil walks over and jerks Logan’s sweater over his head. “Because I said, rich b—” The last word catches in his mouth as he sees sudden panic flash in Logan’s eyes. His eyes drop to Logan’s chest and he sees an even pattern of red welts and purple-blue bruises.
Connor whistles. “Dude, what happened to you?”
Weevil expects him to stammer out a lame explanation. Instead, Logan laughs and knocks a beer open, then takes a long drink. In that short span, Weevil catches sight of the fading yellow beneath the fresh bruises and realizes what’s going on. He’s suddenly a little sick, and it only gets worse as Logan says – his voice so casual, like it doesn’t matter at all – “Weevs here just doesn’t have control over his gang of maintenance men. A couple of them jumped me on my way home yesterday.”
“I didn’t see anybody at school who looked like that,” Sean pipes up.
Logan laughs. “Well, you wouldn’t, would you? I think I can handle a couple Mexican cue balls.”
All four of them laugh at that, and Weevil offers the sarcastic smile that has become his response to much of what Logan says. Underneath the smile though, he’s nauseated.

As they leave, Aaron Echolls, international movie star, walks in. “Leaving already, boys?” he asks. “I can get the cook to make you a snack, if you’d like.” He puts his arm around Logan’s shoulders, and Weevil sees something he’s never noticed before – Logan flinches the slightest bit, sinks down as though his dad’s arm is a burning weight around his shoulders.
“Nah, that’s okay, Mister Echolls,” Weevil says, and he tries to hide the hate boiling deep in his stomach. He doesn’t let this kind of thing happen in the PCHers, not ever. “Seems I need to go have a little talk with some of my boys.”
Logan flinches again, so slightly that if Weevil hadn’t expected it he wouldn’t have seen it, and says, “Careful, Weevs. Can’t trust anybody, not anymore.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” he says, and walks off.


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