FIC: "12 Days of Veronica (A Dirty Dozen): Twelve Pictures" (Veronica/Lamb) PG-13
Last one! I can't quite decide if I'm sad or relieved. :)
Title: Twelve Days of Veronica (A Dirty Dozen): Twelve Pictures
Author: angel_grace
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Veronica/Lamb
Spoilers: Nothing specific
Summary: Veronica Mars knows her way around a camera, a talent that Sheriff Lamb decides to take full advantage of, with interesting results.
Disclaimer: Veronica Mars and its characters were created by Rob Thomas. I'm not him.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Veronica Fic Challenge. The prompt, "twelve pictures," was supplied by elleeveque.
Veronica stared across the desk at Sheriff Lamb, her mouth slightly agape. "You want me to what?"
"Take pictures. Of the deputies. For a charity calendar," he repeated slowly, overenunciating, which was annoying. She was incredulous, not stupid.
"Please tell me this isn't going to be some 'Neptune's Finest Beefcake Calendar,'" she practically begged.
He had the grace to blush, at least.
She covered her eyes with her hands. "Oh, God, you're serious. At least say you won't be in it."
His smile was smug, although she couldn't see it. "What, and deprive the ladies of Neptune of its finest piece of beef?"
"My eyes...they burn...." she moaned.
He reached across the desk and pulled her hands away from her face. "Come on, Veronica, be serious. We can't afford to hire a professional photographer, okay?"
A speculative gleam came into her eyes. "So...you need me."
Begrudgingly, he nodded. "I mean, we can pay you. Just not a lot."
She waved it off. "I'll do it for free...but you're going to owe me, Lamb."
"I'd really rather pay you," he protested weakly.
She flashed him a vicious smile. "No, no--I insist."
Veronica scrolled through the pictures on her camera, smiling at the images she had captured. The day had actually turned out to be a lot of fun--it wasn't exactly a hardship to look at hot cops out of uniform. Leo made a particularly delicious Cupid, and who knew that Sacks was hiding such a rockin' body underneath the ugly uniform and wretched mustache?
Now only one obstacle, er, subject remained--Lamb, who had made half a dozen smarmy comments about "saving the best for last." Truthfully, she hadn't minded delaying the inevitable, since the whole situation just screamed "awkward and uncomfortable."
She heard the door start to open and she looked up from her camera to watch Lamb walk in.
It should have been funny, with the clunky black boots, the fur-trimmed red hat, and the toy bag slung over his shoulder. It should have been no big deal, since she'd spent the last seven hours in a room with an attire array of attractive, mostly naked guys.
But somehow, it wasn't funny, and it was a disturbingly big deal. What it was, was ridiculously hot. And she wanted to sit on Santa's lap and let him do unspeakable things to her.
She couldn't help staring at the red silk boxers, the rock-hard abs, the thoroughly lickable chest. No question about it...he blew Sacks right out of the water.
"Veronica?" he said, annoyance evident in his voice. "Can we get this over with? It's not exactly warm in here."
"Oh, right. Sure. Just...vogue, or something. Whatever you want."
He struck a pose, one hand on his hip, his smile bright and cheesy, and rather than drooling over him some more, she burst into laughter. "This isn't the JC Penney catalog, Deputy. Try for something a little...sexier."
He adjusted his position slightly, adopting what she thought was supposed to be a pouty sneer.
She sighed. "I said sexy, not Satanic."
He dropped the bag to the floor in frustration. "I'm so glad you find this funny, Veronica. It's not like it's easy, you know."
She set down her camera and approached him carefully. "Okay, why don't you try something a little different..." She reached out, tentatively touching his shoulder. Pushing gently, she said, "Try turning like this..." She paused to pick up the bag and put it back in his hand. "...and hold the bag like this. And smile, but not too much." She took a step back and cast a critical eye on him. "Not quite," she murmured, moving closer. She touched his cheek, noting that he must have just shaved, and tried not to ponder his smooth skin too closely. "Just a little bit this way."
He was staring down at her, and had his eyes always been so blue? "You about finished?" he asked softly, and she was close enough to feel his breath on her cheek.
She swallowed hard, and backed away quickly, suddenly hyper aware of just how close they were standing and how incredibly little he was wearing. "Yeah, I think that's good."
He held the pose, and Veronica took refuge behind her camera. There was security in looking through the lens, and she clung to it, because otherwise she was going to do something really, really stupid. "Okay, why don't you try something on your own again," she suggested.
Lamb walked over to a chair, and put one foot up on the seat. Leaning forward, he rested his elbow on his leg, and his chin on his hand.
She couldn't help it. The man was the worst model in history, and she started laughing again. "Are you supposed to be Santa Claus or Captain Morgan?" she asked between guffaws.
"Has anyone ever told you that sarcasm isn't productive?"
"This coming from you?" She approached a second time, and told herself to just keep breathing. Sure, he was pretty, but he was an ass. A big, stupid ass who mocked her. A big, stupid, pretty, mostly naked ass who smelled really, really yummy.
God, she hated herself. And him. Mostly him. And his damn cologne.
In all, it took nearly an hour before she was confident she had enough decent shots to work with. It had been an arduous process, with most of the time spent posing him like a living, breathing Ken doll.
Finally, she put down her camera and said, "Okay, I think we're done."
"Finally!" he replied, dropping the toy bag with a groan. "How come no one else took this long?"
"Because none of them sucked as much as you did," she told him bluntly.
"Nice," he growled. "Do you always have to be such a bitch, Veronica?"
"Only when you're being a pompous ass." Her smile was acid. "So I guess that's a yes."
He crossed the room, invading her personal space. "You don't fool me," he said smugly. "I saw you checking out this pompous ass more than once today."
She rolled her eyes. "And you've never ogled me, I suppose?"
"Guilty as charged," he grinned. "Is that really so bad?"
She looked up at him, and reminded herself that it wasn't actually possible to drown in someone's eyes. That was just silly. Still, a life preserver wouldn't have been inappropriate at the moment. "I guess not," she conceded.
"So should I stay here, or should I go get out of this outfit?"
"I think you should get out of that outfit," she replied quietly, and watched as his expression changed, his eyes closed off. He took a step back, and she watched and waited as he turned and started to walk away. "But I don't think you should put anything else on," she added when he was halfway to the door.
He froze, and turned back around. "What are you saying, Veronica?"
It was her turn to invade his space, to move close enough that she could feel the heat off of his skin. "Remember how I said you were going to owe me for these pictures?"
He nodded, barely breathing.
She dipped one small finger into the waistband of his boxers. Going up on her tiptoes, she whispered, "Just promise me you'll leave the hat on."
Title: Twelve Days of Veronica (A Dirty Dozen): Twelve Pictures
Author: angel_grace
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Veronica/Lamb
Spoilers: Nothing specific
Summary: Veronica Mars knows her way around a camera, a talent that Sheriff Lamb decides to take full advantage of, with interesting results.
Disclaimer: Veronica Mars and its characters were created by Rob Thomas. I'm not him.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Veronica Fic Challenge. The prompt, "twelve pictures," was supplied by elleeveque.
Veronica stared across the desk at Sheriff Lamb, her mouth slightly agape. "You want me to what?"
"Take pictures. Of the deputies. For a charity calendar," he repeated slowly, overenunciating, which was annoying. She was incredulous, not stupid.
"Please tell me this isn't going to be some 'Neptune's Finest Beefcake Calendar,'" she practically begged.
He had the grace to blush, at least.
She covered her eyes with her hands. "Oh, God, you're serious. At least say you won't be in it."
His smile was smug, although she couldn't see it. "What, and deprive the ladies of Neptune of its finest piece of beef?"
"My eyes...they burn...." she moaned.
He reached across the desk and pulled her hands away from her face. "Come on, Veronica, be serious. We can't afford to hire a professional photographer, okay?"
A speculative gleam came into her eyes. "So...you need me."
Begrudgingly, he nodded. "I mean, we can pay you. Just not a lot."
She waved it off. "I'll do it for free...but you're going to owe me, Lamb."
"I'd really rather pay you," he protested weakly.
She flashed him a vicious smile. "No, no--I insist."
Veronica scrolled through the pictures on her camera, smiling at the images she had captured. The day had actually turned out to be a lot of fun--it wasn't exactly a hardship to look at hot cops out of uniform. Leo made a particularly delicious Cupid, and who knew that Sacks was hiding such a rockin' body underneath the ugly uniform and wretched mustache?
Now only one obstacle, er, subject remained--Lamb, who had made half a dozen smarmy comments about "saving the best for last." Truthfully, she hadn't minded delaying the inevitable, since the whole situation just screamed "awkward and uncomfortable."
She heard the door start to open and she looked up from her camera to watch Lamb walk in.
It should have been funny, with the clunky black boots, the fur-trimmed red hat, and the toy bag slung over his shoulder. It should have been no big deal, since she'd spent the last seven hours in a room with an attire array of attractive, mostly naked guys.
But somehow, it wasn't funny, and it was a disturbingly big deal. What it was, was ridiculously hot. And she wanted to sit on Santa's lap and let him do unspeakable things to her.
She couldn't help staring at the red silk boxers, the rock-hard abs, the thoroughly lickable chest. No question about it...he blew Sacks right out of the water.
"Veronica?" he said, annoyance evident in his voice. "Can we get this over with? It's not exactly warm in here."
"Oh, right. Sure. Just...vogue, or something. Whatever you want."
He struck a pose, one hand on his hip, his smile bright and cheesy, and rather than drooling over him some more, she burst into laughter. "This isn't the JC Penney catalog, Deputy. Try for something a little...sexier."
He adjusted his position slightly, adopting what she thought was supposed to be a pouty sneer.
She sighed. "I said sexy, not Satanic."
He dropped the bag to the floor in frustration. "I'm so glad you find this funny, Veronica. It's not like it's easy, you know."
She set down her camera and approached him carefully. "Okay, why don't you try something a little different..." She reached out, tentatively touching his shoulder. Pushing gently, she said, "Try turning like this..." She paused to pick up the bag and put it back in his hand. "...and hold the bag like this. And smile, but not too much." She took a step back and cast a critical eye on him. "Not quite," she murmured, moving closer. She touched his cheek, noting that he must have just shaved, and tried not to ponder his smooth skin too closely. "Just a little bit this way."
He was staring down at her, and had his eyes always been so blue? "You about finished?" he asked softly, and she was close enough to feel his breath on her cheek.
She swallowed hard, and backed away quickly, suddenly hyper aware of just how close they were standing and how incredibly little he was wearing. "Yeah, I think that's good."
He held the pose, and Veronica took refuge behind her camera. There was security in looking through the lens, and she clung to it, because otherwise she was going to do something really, really stupid. "Okay, why don't you try something on your own again," she suggested.
Lamb walked over to a chair, and put one foot up on the seat. Leaning forward, he rested his elbow on his leg, and his chin on his hand.
She couldn't help it. The man was the worst model in history, and she started laughing again. "Are you supposed to be Santa Claus or Captain Morgan?" she asked between guffaws.
"Has anyone ever told you that sarcasm isn't productive?"
"This coming from you?" She approached a second time, and told herself to just keep breathing. Sure, he was pretty, but he was an ass. A big, stupid ass who mocked her. A big, stupid, pretty, mostly naked ass who smelled really, really yummy.
God, she hated herself. And him. Mostly him. And his damn cologne.
In all, it took nearly an hour before she was confident she had enough decent shots to work with. It had been an arduous process, with most of the time spent posing him like a living, breathing Ken doll.
Finally, she put down her camera and said, "Okay, I think we're done."
"Finally!" he replied, dropping the toy bag with a groan. "How come no one else took this long?"
"Because none of them sucked as much as you did," she told him bluntly.
"Nice," he growled. "Do you always have to be such a bitch, Veronica?"
"Only when you're being a pompous ass." Her smile was acid. "So I guess that's a yes."
He crossed the room, invading her personal space. "You don't fool me," he said smugly. "I saw you checking out this pompous ass more than once today."
She rolled her eyes. "And you've never ogled me, I suppose?"
"Guilty as charged," he grinned. "Is that really so bad?"
She looked up at him, and reminded herself that it wasn't actually possible to drown in someone's eyes. That was just silly. Still, a life preserver wouldn't have been inappropriate at the moment. "I guess not," she conceded.
"So should I stay here, or should I go get out of this outfit?"
"I think you should get out of that outfit," she replied quietly, and watched as his expression changed, his eyes closed off. He took a step back, and she watched and waited as he turned and started to walk away. "But I don't think you should put anything else on," she added when he was halfway to the door.
He froze, and turned back around. "What are you saying, Veronica?"
It was her turn to invade his space, to move close enough that she could feel the heat off of his skin. "Remember how I said you were going to owe me for these pictures?"
He nodded, barely breathing.
She dipped one small finger into the waistband of his boxers. Going up on her tiptoes, she whispered, "Just promise me you'll leave the hat on."