Chapter Text
When Weevil gets to his apartment and sees the gang waiting for him, lying in wait for him, he snaps. He doesn’t have the energy or the inclination for going up full of bluster and cocksuredness to fight for his right to enter his own front door. This isn’t home. Truthfully, he doesn’t know the last time he had one. He’d like to think his grandmother’s house, but that is wrapped up in Chardo and Felix and Hector and Thumper. And he can’t show up like a stray and crash at her place, not when she is so much to him, has done so much for him. Not when she’s got his younger cousins to worry over.
So, she’s no longer where he can rest his hat, and for the most part he is good with the lone wolf existence. Is ok with not fitting into his neighborhood, because he’s no longer in the gang and he’s too bloody to fit in with the others who have never been in with the gang.
None of that helps when he wants to feel like he does belong, like he does have a place to go. Especially when he can’t get to the crappy place he’s overpaying for.
All he knows is that Veronica Mars is one of the only people who does feel like home, and she doesn’t say a word about the whys when she comes home and finds him on her couch.
“Door locks don’t mean much to you, do they?” She questions drily, pulling bedsheets from the hall closet. The hall closet he felt like he would be an asshole to explore without her.
“What are you going to do, Vee? Call the cops?” He waggles his eyebrows at her, and she laughs.
“What I’m going to do is get you set up here, and then go to bed. And, in the morning, we’ll talk about whatever it is that has brought you to my doorstep 3 months since I last saw you.” She gives him a look that he thinks could be significant, but he just nods; takes the sheets and blankets and makes himself up a bed.
“You moved,” he calls down the hall, after where she’d gone.
“I did,” the reply comes. No other information, but she’s Vee, so he figured that much.
“I don’t know who was more shocked tonight, me - or your dad when he found me on his couch.” He can hear her laughter tinkling down the corridor.
“So, he tell you where to find me?” She pops out again, this time in some pjs that make her look like she’s about twelve years old. Weevil hates this look, hates it because when she was twelve, she was innocent and chasing Lilly Kane and he was lifting bikes. Hates it, because it represents the path not followed. The path where he and Veronica Mars weren’t friends.
He could tell her that, but instead he nods. Grandiose pledges of death and love are better saved for Echolls. If the pictures around are any indication, he’s still an active part of her life. Weevil tries not to resent him so totally for it. “Tell you, though, I was surprised. Didn’t think you were ever going to be moving away from him.”
She looks at him, and then flops over next to him on his makeshift bed. “Yeah, well.” Looks at a point on a faraway wall. “I love him. Right? He’s one of the only people in my life I can fully say, without fear or worry of retribution, that I love. But as much as I love him, I also just needed - I wasn’t going to move on from being the old me surrounded by all those things. Plus, it’s easier for me if he and Logan don’t interact as much.”
“Things serious between you two?”
Veronica looks at him, serious and soft, and Weevil knows that the answer is yes. Has always been yes. Instead, she says, “Summer is our time.”
He has no idea what that means. She leans back and gives a groan. He laughs at her. “You look like you’re twelve and sound like you’re eighty. What gives?”
She punches him. “Stake outs. Not as sexy as they are on tv.” She smirks, like she’s said something clever. “Well, as much as I’d love to continue this, I’ve got to get to bed.”
He smiles at her. “Alright, Vee. I’ll be here in the morning.”