


Community Service

by therentyoupay



Category: Zoey 101
Genre: Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-08-30
Updated: 2011-07-12
Packaged: 2014-04-24 05:53:21
Rating: T
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,701
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/6285511/1/
Author URL: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/432016/therentyoupay
Summary: IN PROGRESS.  Zoey intends to teach Logan a lesson, but it all goes terribly awry. Zoey/Logan. Created February 2008.  Note the rating change!





	1. Chapter 1

Title: Community Service  
Rating: PG  
Summary: Zoey intends to teach Logan a lesson, but it all goes terribly awry.  
AN: I wrote this first part in February of 2008... I remembered it all of a sudden last night, August 29, 2010, and decided to go see if I still had it saved on my computer. Obviously, I had, but I don't think it will make it any farther than this stage. Unless I'm hit with a sudden burst of inspiration to get back into Zoey 101 (not very likely, but eh?), this will probably remain dormant like so many of my other stories. :P Bummer. I figured I'd just put it out here for the sake of posting it though.

* * *

"What on Earth is going on now?"

"Just Logan's latest misguided attempt to _share _himself with the world," Chase said, taking a bite from his prematurely-picked apple with obvious disdain. Whether the expression was a result more from the sour fruit or from the mere mention of his supposed best friend was not clear. "It's another one of those auction things that schools are doing now. Apparently, it's some sort of fundraising trend." Another frown.

"Fundraising for what?" Lola, oblivious to Chase's dissatisfaction, checked the cuticles on one hand with mild interest.

"You didn't hear?" Michael scoffed with disbelief. "It's all he's been talking about. It's one of those 'Self Services for Starving Offspring' charities, where you auction yourself off for twenty-four hours to help feed hungry children."

"Basically," said Chase, finally surrendering his unwanted apple to the garbage can. "You sell yourself—which was, you know, illegal, last time I checked—as a slave—very illegal—for a whole day in order to feed a kid."

"Is it legit?" Zoey asked, her interest growing.

"I don't know," Chase shrugged with annoyance. "It has to be, I guess, what with the government funding and whatnot. Logan's just directing it here."

"Hey, I don't care who made it or why—I'm just excited about the free refreshments all of the participating slaves are given." Michael could always be trusted to have his mind on food, after all.

"What's that supposed to be for?" Quinn placed her hands on her hips, scandalized. "Some sort of weak compensation for what horrors await them?"

"Ahh, I'm sensing some negativity," Logan appeared behind Michael and Chase, placing a hand comfortably on each of their shoulders. "I assure you, all orders and demands of the servants must be appropriate as thoroughly explained in the contract that all participants must sign… quite a disappointment, I'm sure, to all of my lovely hopefuls, waiting to purchase my, ah… _services_. For a hefty price, that is."

"Logan, do you think you could possibly speak one sentence without being a completely gross jerk?" demanded Lola, finding time to break her gaze away from her perfectly manicured fingernails.

"But where, my dear Lola, would the fun be in that?" And so he left, quite haughtily, to oversee the proceedings of the fundraiser.

"Wow," Chase said, unsurprised. "Just when you think he can't get any more conceited." He shook his head pityingly.

"You know…" Zoey said, the formation of a plan slowly developing in her mind. "I _will _buy him."

A moment of silence.

"_What_?"

"You can't be serious, Zoey," Lola stared in utter disbelief. Chase still remained frozen at her side, mouth agape in unadulterated shock. "Think of what kind of person he is—why on earth would you want something like that following you around for a whole day?"

"I mean, really, Zoey," Michael added. "No amount of money is worth Logan's… _services_… whatever they, ah, may be." Everyone turned to him in disgust. "What? I didn't go into detail!"

"_Ew_, Michael, what are you thinking?" Zoey exclaimed, offended. "I wouldn't buy Logan for _that_."

"Then why bother b—b—_buying_ him?" Chase sputtered, suddenly regaining his mobility, as sporadic as it was. "You obviously can't want him, after all," his voice reached a whole new octave. "I mean, this is all a joke, right?" He turned to Michael, accusingly. "Right?"

"Guys, _think _about it." She smiled. "This is a great opportunity."

Chase looked faint.

"Look at this way," she continued, ignoring Chase's illness. "If we all pool our money together, we wouldn't have any problem beating the other contenders—"

"You have yet to convince me why this is an acceptable idea," Quinn interrupted.

"_Because_," Zoey said, exasperated. "Just think of what it'd be like to show Logan what it's _really _like to be someone's slave. To give him a taste of his own medicine. You know…. teach him a lesson." Chase, though slightly placated, looked frantic still. The rest, however, began to process the depth of what Zoey was implicating.

"What it's _really _like, eh?" Michael mused, rubbing his chin pensively.

"A taste of his own medicine?" Lola smiled deviously. "How about a whole gulp?"

"Really now," Quinn said. "Is it really such a ridiculous notion to donate to the needy through education? Why must there be all of this—this—nonsense about slavery—can't we just hold a science fair?"

"You know, Quinn," Zoey began. "You could consider this an experiment… you could create your very own hypothesis to see how long it will take for Logan to break down." She couldn't help but smile at the thought. Quinn, herself, began to consider the possibilities.

"I do suppose it wouldn't _hurt _to conduct an experiment on such a controversial topic… you know, to reinforce my argument that slavery is by no means tolerable, not even for the sake of thousands of hungry children."

"And just think, guys," Zoey said, her smile growing wider. "Logan can't possibly hope to complain. Not only does it say something about accepting one's duties _willingly_, I'm sure, but I'm positive that Logan wouldn't want his whole program to fall through… what with he, himself, failing to commit to his own rules."

It was as good as done.

"So," Zoey smiled victoriously. "let's feed some hungry children."

* * *

"Five dollars, five dollars, five dollars, five dollars, do I hear six dollars? Do I hear six? Going once, going twice, twice it goes, going twice now, going three times, and—_sold!_" Applause rang throughout the courtyard as a newly-purchased "servant" was escorted to their owner.

"Thank you, thank you everyone," the auctioneer spoke. "As you know we've had a lovely success here today at PCA, that's right now, what a lovely day at P. C. A. Remember, every servant and their owner _must _sign both the 'Servants' Rights Agreement' and the 'Owner Manual of Appropriateness' before they leave the vicinity, so be sure you folks head back over to the registration booth before you head on out. And now, without further ado, you good folks of PCA, we have our final servant to auction off—please welcome everyone, our fundraiser director and the man with the child-feeding plan—Logan!"

Cheers erupted from the audience as he appeared from behind a black curtain, dressed to impress in the finest suit his family could buy and the whitest teeth his dentist could supply. Zoey looked around the area nervously, taking in the number of girls obnoxiously sighing and giggling, calling out his name and whistling continuously. She hadn't realized that Logan would have so many fans.

"Don't worry, Zoe," Lola said reassuringly. "There's no way any of them could match _our _price." She leaned back in her chair contentedly. "We've got him for sure."

"Right… no worries." But it wasn't just the possibility of missing out on an opportunity to annoy Logan that bothered her… it was the possibility that, just possibly, there might be a chance that there were girls out there that actually… _liked,_ liked Logan for the perverted creep he was, despite his ceaseless arrogance and complete disregard for the feelings of others.

_I don't get it_, Zoey said, frowning. _I don't see what's so great about him… It's just Logan. _She shook her head. _They just don't know him as well as we do, that's all._

"And now everyone, we'll begin the auction!" the man's voice become almost unintelligible, so fast were his words. "What, shall we begin? Let's begin, let's start the bid at three dollars—do I hear three dollars? Three dollars, that's three dollars towards the food for a hungry child, I say, do I hear a taker?" Every servant-less female hand in the audience shot up instantly, but only one number was called. "I see number thirty-four is a fervent young gal, thirty-four will take him for three, that's three dollars, do I hear any more? Do I hear four or will thirty-four take home Mr. _ for three?"

A number fifty-two called out six dollars. The auctioneer repeated the bid, before continuing to ask for seven. Number sixteen shouted ten dollars. The man began to stutter, so great was his excitement in having reached the double digits—no one else had received such a high offer… a fact that Logan was obviously aware of, his smile hiding nothing of his rapidly-inflating ego. A number eighteen shouted out fifteen dollars while number forty-one called for twenty. Another girl raised the bar to twenty-five, but was topped by an offer of thirty-five dollars. The man became so overwhelmed the onslaught of proposals and the rapidity of them that he, himself, was having trouble keeping up. It was becoming clear that some girls had surpassed their budget a long time ago and thus stopped calling out higher offers… only a few were consistently bargaining now.

"Is that forty—do I hear—did I hear—forty?" the man, so calm before, was beginning to sweat quite profusely. Logan, meanwhile, stood smugly at the front of the stage, waiting for the highlight of his day take its course. The woman at the donation table was almost in tears, so overwrought with happiness was she.

"Are you serious," Chase muttered under his breath, as the race plowed on. "I can't believe we're going to waste our money on this!" His bushy brows knitted together furiously. "We didn't think it was actually going to get this high!"

"Neither did _I_," Zoey retorted through gritted teeth. "Just be quiet—I need to hear." She paused. "Besides, it will all be worth it, remember?"

"But—"

"That's fifty! I said fifty, _fifty _dollars!" A round of cheers erupted from the otherwise silent audience. The gatherers were so enraptured by the proceedings that most had forgotten to pay attention to their own newly-acquired servants. "That's fifty dollars, folks! Thank goodness for such kind-hearted souls—I tell you a whole village of children won't go hungry for—"

"Sixty dollars!" Screamed one of the two remaining contenders. "Sixty, I tell you!"

"Sixty-five!" Shouted the other. "I'll take sixty-five!"

"You filthy cow!" screeched the first. "You don't _deserve _him! Seventy dollars!"

The man looked as if it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. "Ah, _ladies_, I do believe we agreed that this would be a _civil _arrangement… there is no need for violence, just as there is no need for intolerable cruelty or abuse of the participants." An awkward laugh. The man was distinctly uncomfortable. Logan, meanwhile, merely watched with interest, taking delight in the uproarious turn of events. The woman at the booth sat counting the dollar bills in her cash box.

"You backstabbing liar! You don't have the money to back up your offer!"

"I beg to differ!" And so the first pulled out from her wallet the appropriate amount in cash, triumphantly displaying the bills for the crowd to see as the other shook with rage.

"Aha!" The second exclaimed. "But do you have five dollars _more_?" The girl produced eighty dollars, waving the valuable money through the air in the greatest sense of victory. The first looked as if tears were beginning to form. "I offer a total of _eighty_ dollars!" The crowd burst into applause once more. Logan smiled mischievously. The auctioneer looked as if speech was unthinkable.

"Eighty—that's eighty—we have eighty dollars, folks." He stumbled across the stage. "Well," the man coughed. "It looks like, like we found our highest bidder."

The audience burst into the ultimate measure of applause. The occupants of Zoey's table looked at her expectantly. She looked around quickly, taking in the cheering crowd, the ecstatic face of the donation lady… she didn't have to spend their money on something like this. It was obvious that the other two girls wanted this desperately, so much more than she did. Was it really fair to deny them of… _Logan_?

She turned toward the stage, examining the smirk playing at his lips, the smugness in his gleeful eyes, the small laugh of victory she knew existed but couldn't hear. Her eyes narrowed. She stood.

"I, number seven, am willing to pay _one hundred dollars_ for Mr. Logan and his services."

The woman in the donation booth fainted.

The crowd was silent. Zoey became aware that everyone's undivided attention was completely focused on her and her painted number, the scrap of paper that she was sure was now her enemy. Even Chase, Quinn, and Lola were stunned by the silence. Zoey merely stared at the auctioneer… not daring to look at Logan's reaction.

…_this was a bad idea._

And out of nowhere, the multitude of cheers that exploded from the audience during the previous match was nothing compared to the ear-splitting clash of cheers that permeated the air now.

Zoey dared a glance at Logan, and instantly wished that she hadn't. Gone was the smug conceit... instead, Zoey found a fascinated kind of wonder and the smallest trace of an intrigued smile.

_This was _such _a bad idea_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Community Service  
**Rating: **PG-13  
**Summary:** Zoey intends to teach Logan a lesson, but it all goes terribly awry.  
**A/N:** _7/10/11 _Wow! Didn't expect this to happen! Let's just say that I got this scene in my head and I just had to get it down. Who knows how often I will update this... Not sure who even reads it anyway, but the inspiration is back, at least!

* * *

**Chapter 2**

With a jolt, Zoey was awake in an instant, senses on high alert and eyes roaming frantically across the familiar spaces of her room.

"Lola?" Zoey ventured. With a glance, she noticed that the girl in question was absent from her bed, as was Quinn. "Ladies? Are you there?"

"I'm sorry."

There was a voice from the darkness, but it didn't belong to either of her roommates. It was low... Low, husky and deep, and carried a tone which made Zoey believe that perhaps the voice wasn't _so _sorry after all, though for _what_ it could be sorry for was a mystery to her. The breeze of the near-summer air rustled the curtains of her open window, and Zoey desperately tried to make out the figure in the darkness. Her spine straightened as she felt a chill rush through her, as her heightened senses expanded around her and frayed the edges of her nerves. "Who's there?"

"I'm not entirely sure why I came here. But it couldn't wait until tomorrow morning." His voice rode across her body in waves and she shuddered, suddenly feeling dizzy. She could sense movement. "_I _couldn't wait."

"Lo-Logan?"

He moved forward, emerging from the shadows of the door and into the moonlight, caressed by its ethereal glow. She felt her breath hitch in her throat at the sight of him in his customary shorts and dark tank top, but couldn't produce any further sounds. Her eyes narrowed angrily at the intrusion, but she found herself unable to avert her eyes from his form, and unable to ignore the way the shadows played along the finely-toned muscles of his arms... Or the ridiculous way she somehow found herself captivated by his gaze. Something about the way he was looking at her almost seemed... _predatory._

Ignoring the fluttering in her stomach, she swallowed hard and mustered up enough of her voice to express her disapproval. "What are you doing in my room?" She hissed. She dared not raise her voice any further, lest she wake someone, or worse, lest her voice crack. Her eyes narrowed. "Logan, _get out_, you shouldn't be in here-"

"Tell me something, Zoey," he said in a whisper, his own voice taking on a stronger hint of the tension that permeated the air. He was moving closer. "Why did you leave your door open tonight?"

Zoey glared at him through the shadows. She hadn't done anything of the kind!

"For your information, I did _not _leave my door open... I don't know how you got in here, but even if I _had_, that doesn't give you the right to just come waltzing through the girls' dormitory." She tightened her grip on the covers around her waist. Her anger rose as he neared the side of her bed. "As habitual as your nightly visits to the rooms of _other _girls may be-"

"What are you so afraid of, Zoey?" He whispered. "You weren't afraid yesterday, when you _purchased_ me."

He was too close now, her mind shouted. _Too close. _He lowered his front over her slightly bent knees, encasing her lower half with a hand placed on either side of her hips. She felt herself drift back, her shoulders hitting the headboard with a soft thud as he leaned forward, his face now mere inches away from hers.

"L-Logan." Zoey whispered, searching for her lost anger. She spread her hands wider into the mattress, trying to push herself farther away from his mind-spinning proximity. He was so close that she could see the gleam of the chain around his neck, hanging in the expanse of his open collar. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words died on her tongue as her eyes traveled past the chain, beneath the hanging, loose cloth and to the beginning of what she knew to be a strong, smooth chest. Her stare lingered against her better judgment, a mistake which was confirmed the instant she heard the small, breathy laughter escape him.

She turned her irritated gaze upwards, feeling a furious blush creep over her features, but she was just as distracted by the amused movement of his lips. Of their own accord, her eyes traced the pattern of his smile and found it devoid of any smirk, of any smugness, but soft and parted in waiting. She inhaled a quick breath, suddenly very conscious of the goosebumps running across her bare arms and exposed shoulders.

"Logan, you should go," Zoey said breathlessly, her brows knitting together. And yet, her chin tilted slightly upward, baring her neck.

"I should," his voice rumbled, and Zoey shuddered again. His eyes bore into her own, digging for something so deeply that she couldn't even _think, _that she forgot how to breathe. Painfully aware of the pressure beside her hips and of his weight on the mattress, Zoey shivered as he reached his hand toward hers. Grazing his fingertips along her arms, he raised his hand up and over her shoulder to rest at her jaw, ghosting the space under her ear.

"Logan—"

"Do you want me to go?" His lips were even closer now, so close she could feel his hot breath on her skin, so close she could practically _taste _him. _Too close_. "Say the word and I'll leave." It was scant millimeters now and—_why _could she feel herself gravitating towards him? Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears and before she knew it, his body was even closer, nearly pressing against her—she could practically feel his skin burning through her camisole. "Now tell me, Zoey," he laughed, and she could _feel _the movement, feel the vibration of his chest and the curve of smile. His voice was strong... Confident. She was completely drawn by the intensity of his gaze. _Too close. _She could feel the space between their lips melting away."Do you _want_ me to go?"

Her mind protested even as she leaned forward, but by then it was too late because he was _right there _and all she needed was one more push, one more second and the kiss would be sealed and—

She bolted upright with a gasp, fully awake.

And it took her more than just a few moments to regain her bearings. It was already dawn, and she could already hear Quinn bustling in the next room, preparing her laboratory equipment. Birds were chirping their springtime songs, the maintenance crew was mowing the lawn, and one of her neighbors was singing a little _too_ loudly and poorly in the shower on the other side of her wall.

But Zoey couldn't concentrate on any of that. Her skin was still covered in a thin film of sweat, and her bangs were matted to the side of her face in total disarray. Her heart wouldn't calm for the life of her, and she noticed that her fingers were still shaking imperceptibly as she reach across her mattress to her alarm clock on her side table.

7:58.

In three hours and two minutes, it would be time to claim Logan as her personal slave.

"Holy _cow_."

This would not do.

She slammed the alarm clock back down on her table and plopped herself back against the pillows. _That's it_, she decided. _I can't do it. I should have known better than to play with fire, and I don't know what I was thinking by essentially _inviting_ the opportunity for trouble. Maybe I can pass him over to Chase or Michael and _they_ can deal with him all day… but it's _my _name in the contract. Shoot, why did I do that? I'll just tell Lola and Quinn that I'm sick in bed and that I can't be bothered to move around and that we'll just have to forfeit the sale—but they'll probably just send Logan up to fulfill his duties and to take care of me… doting on me all day, probably serving me breakfast in bed—stop it! Stop it right now, Zoey! _

She was going insane. Where were these thoughts even _coming _from? She couldn't believe that she had envisioned Logan in such a way—even subconsciously. She couldn't believe that she had stooped to such a level! She was acting no better than those vapid groupies at the auction…

_It wasn't_ me, Zoey's mind protested_. I just must have gotten caught up in the chaos of the auction, that's all. It's not like those are actually _my_ thoughts or feelings… I just had a lot on my mind as I was falling asleep, and this is probably just the result of all of that Logan-related stress. And besides… so what if I considered Logan a little differently during my first few months here at PCA during the play—I wizened up pretty quickly once I got to know how he really is! It was just a dream. That's all._

But something in the back of Zoey's mind told her that she wasn't going to be able to get off _that_ easily.

"Zoey?" Lola's voice called from the hallway. "I thought I heard you waking up—oh good, you _are _awake! Ready for the—whoah… Zoe, you look awful."

Zoey glared at her, feeling ridiculous as a piece of her hair dangled to the side. Lola just stared good-naturedly, tapping her long fingers over her crossed arms. "Thanks, Lola," Zoey huffed. "Can always count on you for an ego boost." Lola laughed.

"Goodness, Zoey, rough night?"

"What?" Zoey started, pausing in her attempt to comb through her hair with her fingers. "No! Never slept better. Really." She looked up at her friend in dread, wondering if she'd already given herself away with her sudden bout of awkwardness. _Come on, Zoey! What are you doing? It was just a dream! A nightmare, in fact!_

But Lola was already distracted by her reflection in Zoey's mirror and didn't seem to notice Zoey's inner turmoil. "So," Lola began, rearranging a single strand of hair in multiple ways. "I don't know about you, but I am _so_ excited to finally put this plan into action! We're finally going to make him put his money where his mouth is!"

"Put his—um, Lola, I'm not sure that turn of phrase applies to this situation. It was actually _our_ money, and we actually spent it. And we don't want it anywhere near where his mouth is, figuratively or literally." But all too soon, Zoey's mind was clouded of images of other interesting places where his mouth _could _be.

_Shut up, shut up_!

"Oh, whatever," Lola dismissed, unconcerned. "Either way, he's going to get a piece of our minds!" Zoey suddenly felt sick, and clutched her stomach as she thought of the oncoming day. She _refused_ to believe that what was swimming around in her stomach were butterflies—she must simply have a parasite or something. Which reminded her of the faking an illness escape plan she had just conjured (and rejected), and she realized that if she was going to do something about this day, it was going to have to be soon.

"Lola, you know, I was thinking. Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all."

"What?" Lola exclaimed, finally turning away from the mirror to look at the disheveled girl on the bed. "Nonsense! We spent forever coming up with that list last night! You were so ready for payback when you were brainstorming with us—don't get cold feet on us now! And besides," Lola said as a devilish smile crept across her features. "I can't wait until he performs _my _task."

"But," Zoey tried. "Don't you think we might have been a bit… petty? I mean, is it really all worth it?" Next thing she knew, Lola was at her side, and feeling her forehead with the back of one hand.

"Zoey, are you all right? This is _Logan_, we're talking about. You know, Campus Jerk Numero Uno? P.C.A. Womanizer Extraordinaire? He deserves this! This is not petty!" Lola stood up with dignity. "This is justice!"

Zoey looked up into her friends determined features, and felt her bangs go limp against the side of her face with a pathetic flop. Her resolve was breaking, and she suddenly felt silly for her moment of weakness. It had all been her idea, anyway! Who was she to let her friends down now, after they had made it this far? She was Zoey _, for goodness' sake! No way was she going to back down now… Not just because of a stupid dream.

_Nightmare_, she corrected again.

Lola seemed to notice the change in her friend's demeanor, and smiled broadly when Zoey stood. "That's better," she said proudly. "Now… let's get you ready. I wasn't kidding when I said you look terrible."

"Splendid," Zoey said with an incredulous shake of her head. "Take me away!"

"Oh, just wait! In a few hours, you'll be able to take _Logan _away. I'm literally shaking with excitement!"

And with a sinking feeling in her stomach, Zoey realized that _she _was shaking ever-so-slightly too.

"Yeah… can't wait."

_Kill me now_.


End file.
