FIC: "Out With A Bang" (Veronica/Lamb) R
Title: Out With A Bang
Author: angel_grace
Rating: R, for a bit of language and some sexual situations
Word Count: 2202
Pairing: Veronica/Lamb
Spoilers: Through “Mars, Bars”
Disclaimer: Very much not mine, sadly.
Summary: Veronica Mars is hitting a milestone, and that means a trip home and a familiar face in unfamiliar circumstances.
Author’s Note: Birthday fic for monimala, who is hitting a milestone of her own.
August, 2017
Thirty, Veronica told herself, was just a number. It was not the end of the world. It was also not the new twenty, no matter what women’s magazines said.
So what if she was still single? And a workaholic? It’s not like she was holed up in an apartment with 25 cats. She was a smart, independent woman. A smart, independent woman who hadn’t had a date in six months.
She sighed and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Who was she kidding? This birthday was going to suck.
The streets of Neptune were practically empty when she exited the highway around 9:30. The big city this definitely was not. On impulse, she pulled into the parking lot of the Neptune Grand. Her dad wasn’t expecting her until the next morning anyway, and she could seriously use a drink. Hell, maybe she’d just get bombed and get a room.
There was only a handful of people in the bar area, and Veronica quickly took a seat at a small table off to one side. She really wasn’t in the mood to socialize-not that it seemed likely here anyway. The waitress strolled over, and she ordered a gin and tonic. Once the woman was gone, she settled back in her chair and tried to force herself to relax.
She was on her second drink when a man walked into the bar. She watched him with mild interest, since there wasn’t much else to do. As he took a seat, he turned a little more in her direction, and she realized with a start that it was Don Lamb.
Veronica took a long sip of her drink, trying to process this turn of events. She hadn’t seen the former sheriff in years. After narrowly surviving the vicious attack by Steve Botando, he hadn’t been able to return to duty. That meant he no longer served as a thorn in her side-nor she in his-and their paths rarely crossed. After her move to L.A., she’d all but forgotten about him.
For reasons she didn’t want to analyze too closely, she stood up and made her way over to him. Maybe it was the gin, maybe it was nostalgia, or maybe she was just lonely.
“It’s been a long time, Lamb.”
He turned at the sound of his name, and the surprise on his face was evident. “Veronica Mars. What are you doing back in Neptune?”
She took a seat on the stool next to his. “I have plans with my dad tomorrow.”
“And you decided to make a detour here?” he asked, cocking his head to one side.
She shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea two drinks ago.”
He cracked a half smile, and Veronica took a moment to study him. Aside from a few gray hairs at his temples, time had been kind to him. He had to be in his mid-forties by now, and there were a few more lines on his face, but in an odd way he was more attractive now than he had been ten years earlier.
“Do I pass inspection?” he asked mildly.
She instructed herself not to blush, and resisted the urge to reply “With flying colors.” It’s not like the man had ever been lacking in the ego department, after all. “Sorry,” she murmured. “Too many years of trained observation.”
He swiveled slightly on his seat, their knees nearly bumping. “How is the FBI these days?”
“About what you’d expect. Some days are interesting, others suck. It’s a job.”
“But you’re good at it, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone bitter. “Must be nice to be good at something.”
“Self-pity, Lamb? How very…predictable.”
He scowled. “You have no idea what the last ten years have been like.”
“Of course not. Because I couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to go through a life-changing tragedy.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “No, wait, yes I can.”
Unexpectedly, he smiled. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? Talk about damaged goods. So what are you really doing in Neptune, Veronica? Tomorrow’s Thursday. No one comes for a visit on a Thursday.”
“If you must know, it’s my birthday. My 30th birthday,” she added, finishing off her drink.
He looked at her with wide eyes, obviously shocked, and then he chuckled softly. “I guess I never really stopped thinking of you as about eighteen years old. Wow, thirty.”
“You’re not helping, you know.”
“Would a birthday drink ease the pain?”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
He signaled the bartender, and ordered another round for both of them. “Thirty,” he said again.
“And how old are you?” she asked.
“Forty-five,” he replied easily. “Forty-five, mildly brain-damaged, and alone,” he elaborated, raising his glass in a mocking toast.
“Thirty, emotionally damaged, and also alone,” she countered, clinking their glasses together. “I guess we are a pair.”
They sat there together for half an hour, sipping their drinks and talking about benign topics-the weather, baseball, TV shows they both watched. They carefully avoided any mention of the past.
When her glass was empty, Veronica slowly stood up, her hand on the bar for support. She didn’t drink much these days, and the alcohol was hitting her harder than expected. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”
Lamb stood as well. “Can I give you a ride home?”
“No, I think I’ll just get a room here. I don’t want to disturb my dad.”
They walked out to the hotel lobby, and faced each other a little awkwardly. “It was good to see you again, Veronica.”
“Yeah…it was definitely interesting.”
“You still carry that taser in your purse?” he asked abruptly.
She grinned. “Nah, these days it’s a standard-issue Glock.”
“Then please don’t shoot me for doing this.”
Before she could question him, he bent down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was short and chaste, but she still looked shocked when he pulled away. “What was that for?”
“Happy birthday, Veronica.”
She expected him to away, to leave her standing there like a fool. Instead he took a step closer, and she was reminded of how much taller he was. This time, there was nothing chaste about the kiss. His mouth was hot and demanding, and she responded without hesitation. Their encounters had always been contentious, and the same held true here, as each of them battled for control. His fingers tangled in her short blonde hair, while her hands gripped his biceps.
He could taste the gin on her, and he wondered how much that was responsible for the fact that she hadn’t shot him. Or slapped him. Or tried to pull away. Regardless of the reason, her uninhibited participation in the kiss had brought back every fantasy he’d ever had about Veronica Mars in glorious Technicolor.
He didn’t want to stop, to have the moment end. But they were making a spectacle of themselves in the lobby of the Neptune Grand. Besides, he needed to breathe.
Reluctantly, he pulled away, and was gratified to see that she looked adorably mussed and utterly flustered. “And what,” she finally managed to say, “was that for?”
The old familiar smirk slid into place, and just for a moment, he wasn’t damaged goods-he was Sheriff Lamb, cocky badass. “That was because I wanted to.”
He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen. Best case, he hoped she might confess to having naughty thoughts involving him, a pair of handcuffs, and a can of whipped cream. Worst case, she shot his balls off. But her sudden blank stare caught him off guard.
He took a step back, his pride wounded. “I guess I should go.”
She didn’t try to stop him. She didn’t say anything at all. Suddenly angry, he spun on his heel and walked away without looking back.
Finally snapping out of her daze, Veronica brought her fingers up to her lips. Don Lamb had kissed her. Don Lamb had kissed her. Kissed her like he’d been thinking about doing it for years. Kissed her like there wasn’t an entire history of hurt and anger and betrayal strewn behind them.
And damn if she wasn’t more turned on than she had been in years. If he hadn’t pulled away, they might have been arrested for public indecency. So why the hell had he left? And why hadn’t she stopped him?
Trying to ignore the road her mind was going down, she headed over to the reception desk and checked in for the night. She made it all the way to her room on the eighth floor before she remembered her overnight bag was still in her car. Frustrated and annoyed, she flopped down on the bed. It was tempting to just strip off her clothes and crawl under the covers, but she knew she’d regret it in the morning. After five minutes, she forced herself to stand back up and go retrieve her bag. Yanking open the hotel room door, she found herself face to face with Lamb.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped.
“I don’t think you should be alone on your birthday,” he replied, moving to enter the room.
“Technically, it’s not my birthday yet,” she pointed out as she attempted to block his path.
He continued to advance, and she was forced to retreat until she was backed against a wall, the door swinging shut behind them. “I have a few ideas for how we could pass the time.”
Her breath hitched slightly as he nudged one knee between her legs, the length of his body not quite touching hers. “Why…why are you doing this?”
He trailed one finger slowly along the line of her collarbone. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve pictured you naked, Veronica? Did you really think Madison Sinclair was the barely-legal student I wanted to fuck?”
She nearly groaned at the picture his words painted. “Your odds would have been better if you hadn’t been a raging jackass all the time.”
“Maybe,” he conceded, his fingers beginning to toy with the top button on her blouse. “But you’re really, really hot when you’re angry.” Nimbly, he popped open the button, quickly sliding down to the next one and repeating the move. “So what do you say, Veronica? You interested in ending your twenties with a bang?”
This time she did groan at the cheesy double entendre. “How long have you been waiting to use that line?”
“Who cares, as long as it works? So…did it work?
It was the first time she could remember him seeming unsure of himself. Even when he hadn’t know what he was doing, he had swaggered through life with plenty of bravado. Granted, that had been original recipe, pre-baseball-bat-to-the-head Lamb. Maybe the cracked skull had changed more than his career path. “Well,” she said slowly, “I haven’t shot you.”
He grinned down at her. “I’d say that’s a pretty good sign.”
“A big green neon one. So what are you waiting for? Do you need Viagra, old man?”
“What do you think?” he growled, pressing her firmly against the wall with his body.
“I think you’ve got a lot of problems, but that isn’t one of them,” she gasped, pushing back against him with her body to increase the friction.
“Glad we’ve cleared that up,” he replied, returning his attention to the buttons on her blouse. He slid the last one free, and then parted the folds of the fabric. The shirt slid off her shoulders, trapping her arms and her sides, and she squirmed out of it while his fingers caressed her skin from her waist up to just below the smooth curve of her bra.
“So how does it measure up?” Veronica asked, finally freeing her hands and immediately starting to tug his shirt up.
“What’s that?”
“Fantasy vs. reality,” she answered, abandoning her efforts on his shirt and switching her attention to the fly of his jeans.
He didn’t say anything right away, all of his concentration focused on the clasp of her bra. When it finally snapped open, her smirked and said, “There’s no comparison.”
“Is that good or bad?” she laughed, sliding down his zipper and easing her fingers inside.
“Is that insecurity from big, bad Veronica Mars?” he teased. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“That won’t be all you don’t have in me if you don’t shut up,” she growled, but the hand cupping him through his boxers belied her threat.
Still, he wasn’t about to take any chances, so he decided that the best way to shut himself up was to kiss her. It was just as explosive as it had been downstairs, but this time neither one curbed the urge to rip the other’s clothes off. They stumbled through the room, arms and legs tangled together, finally collapsing on the king-sized bed.
“So,” he said, rolling her on top of him and stroking his hands up and down her bare back, “any birthday requests?”
She straddled him languidly, her nails lightly grazing his chest. “Surprise me.”
His hands found her waist, his thumbs gliding along the crease of her hips a promise of things to come. “As you wish.”
Author: angel_grace
Rating: R, for a bit of language and some sexual situations
Word Count: 2202
Pairing: Veronica/Lamb
Spoilers: Through “Mars, Bars”
Disclaimer: Very much not mine, sadly.
Summary: Veronica Mars is hitting a milestone, and that means a trip home and a familiar face in unfamiliar circumstances.
Author’s Note: Birthday fic for monimala, who is hitting a milestone of her own.
August, 2017
Thirty, Veronica told herself, was just a number. It was not the end of the world. It was also not the new twenty, no matter what women’s magazines said.
So what if she was still single? And a workaholic? It’s not like she was holed up in an apartment with 25 cats. She was a smart, independent woman. A smart, independent woman who hadn’t had a date in six months.
She sighed and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. Who was she kidding? This birthday was going to suck.
The streets of Neptune were practically empty when she exited the highway around 9:30. The big city this definitely was not. On impulse, she pulled into the parking lot of the Neptune Grand. Her dad wasn’t expecting her until the next morning anyway, and she could seriously use a drink. Hell, maybe she’d just get bombed and get a room.
There was only a handful of people in the bar area, and Veronica quickly took a seat at a small table off to one side. She really wasn’t in the mood to socialize-not that it seemed likely here anyway. The waitress strolled over, and she ordered a gin and tonic. Once the woman was gone, she settled back in her chair and tried to force herself to relax.
She was on her second drink when a man walked into the bar. She watched him with mild interest, since there wasn’t much else to do. As he took a seat, he turned a little more in her direction, and she realized with a start that it was Don Lamb.
Veronica took a long sip of her drink, trying to process this turn of events. She hadn’t seen the former sheriff in years. After narrowly surviving the vicious attack by Steve Botando, he hadn’t been able to return to duty. That meant he no longer served as a thorn in her side-nor she in his-and their paths rarely crossed. After her move to L.A., she’d all but forgotten about him.
For reasons she didn’t want to analyze too closely, she stood up and made her way over to him. Maybe it was the gin, maybe it was nostalgia, or maybe she was just lonely.
“It’s been a long time, Lamb.”
He turned at the sound of his name, and the surprise on his face was evident. “Veronica Mars. What are you doing back in Neptune?”
She took a seat on the stool next to his. “I have plans with my dad tomorrow.”
“And you decided to make a detour here?” he asked, cocking his head to one side.
She shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea two drinks ago.”
He cracked a half smile, and Veronica took a moment to study him. Aside from a few gray hairs at his temples, time had been kind to him. He had to be in his mid-forties by now, and there were a few more lines on his face, but in an odd way he was more attractive now than he had been ten years earlier.
“Do I pass inspection?” he asked mildly.
She instructed herself not to blush, and resisted the urge to reply “With flying colors.” It’s not like the man had ever been lacking in the ego department, after all. “Sorry,” she murmured. “Too many years of trained observation.”
He swiveled slightly on his seat, their knees nearly bumping. “How is the FBI these days?”
“About what you’d expect. Some days are interesting, others suck. It’s a job.”
“But you’re good at it, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone bitter. “Must be nice to be good at something.”
“Self-pity, Lamb? How very…predictable.”
He scowled. “You have no idea what the last ten years have been like.”
“Of course not. Because I couldn’t possibly understand what it’s like to go through a life-changing tragedy.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “No, wait, yes I can.”
Unexpectedly, he smiled. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we? Talk about damaged goods. So what are you really doing in Neptune, Veronica? Tomorrow’s Thursday. No one comes for a visit on a Thursday.”
“If you must know, it’s my birthday. My 30th birthday,” she added, finishing off her drink.
He looked at her with wide eyes, obviously shocked, and then he chuckled softly. “I guess I never really stopped thinking of you as about eighteen years old. Wow, thirty.”
“You’re not helping, you know.”
“Would a birthday drink ease the pain?”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
He signaled the bartender, and ordered another round for both of them. “Thirty,” he said again.
“And how old are you?” she asked.
“Forty-five,” he replied easily. “Forty-five, mildly brain-damaged, and alone,” he elaborated, raising his glass in a mocking toast.
“Thirty, emotionally damaged, and also alone,” she countered, clinking their glasses together. “I guess we are a pair.”
They sat there together for half an hour, sipping their drinks and talking about benign topics-the weather, baseball, TV shows they both watched. They carefully avoided any mention of the past.
When her glass was empty, Veronica slowly stood up, her hand on the bar for support. She didn’t drink much these days, and the alcohol was hitting her harder than expected. “I think I’m going to call it a night.”
Lamb stood as well. “Can I give you a ride home?”
“No, I think I’ll just get a room here. I don’t want to disturb my dad.”
They walked out to the hotel lobby, and faced each other a little awkwardly. “It was good to see you again, Veronica.”
“Yeah…it was definitely interesting.”
“You still carry that taser in your purse?” he asked abruptly.
She grinned. “Nah, these days it’s a standard-issue Glock.”
“Then please don’t shoot me for doing this.”
Before she could question him, he bent down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was short and chaste, but she still looked shocked when he pulled away. “What was that for?”
“Happy birthday, Veronica.”
She expected him to away, to leave her standing there like a fool. Instead he took a step closer, and she was reminded of how much taller he was. This time, there was nothing chaste about the kiss. His mouth was hot and demanding, and she responded without hesitation. Their encounters had always been contentious, and the same held true here, as each of them battled for control. His fingers tangled in her short blonde hair, while her hands gripped his biceps.
He could taste the gin on her, and he wondered how much that was responsible for the fact that she hadn’t shot him. Or slapped him. Or tried to pull away. Regardless of the reason, her uninhibited participation in the kiss had brought back every fantasy he’d ever had about Veronica Mars in glorious Technicolor.
He didn’t want to stop, to have the moment end. But they were making a spectacle of themselves in the lobby of the Neptune Grand. Besides, he needed to breathe.
Reluctantly, he pulled away, and was gratified to see that she looked adorably mussed and utterly flustered. “And what,” she finally managed to say, “was that for?”
The old familiar smirk slid into place, and just for a moment, he wasn’t damaged goods-he was Sheriff Lamb, cocky badass. “That was because I wanted to.”
He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen. Best case, he hoped she might confess to having naughty thoughts involving him, a pair of handcuffs, and a can of whipped cream. Worst case, she shot his balls off. But her sudden blank stare caught him off guard.
He took a step back, his pride wounded. “I guess I should go.”
She didn’t try to stop him. She didn’t say anything at all. Suddenly angry, he spun on his heel and walked away without looking back.
Finally snapping out of her daze, Veronica brought her fingers up to her lips. Don Lamb had kissed her. Don Lamb had kissed her. Kissed her like he’d been thinking about doing it for years. Kissed her like there wasn’t an entire history of hurt and anger and betrayal strewn behind them.
And damn if she wasn’t more turned on than she had been in years. If he hadn’t pulled away, they might have been arrested for public indecency. So why the hell had he left? And why hadn’t she stopped him?
Trying to ignore the road her mind was going down, she headed over to the reception desk and checked in for the night. She made it all the way to her room on the eighth floor before she remembered her overnight bag was still in her car. Frustrated and annoyed, she flopped down on the bed. It was tempting to just strip off her clothes and crawl under the covers, but she knew she’d regret it in the morning. After five minutes, she forced herself to stand back up and go retrieve her bag. Yanking open the hotel room door, she found herself face to face with Lamb.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped.
“I don’t think you should be alone on your birthday,” he replied, moving to enter the room.
“Technically, it’s not my birthday yet,” she pointed out as she attempted to block his path.
He continued to advance, and she was forced to retreat until she was backed against a wall, the door swinging shut behind them. “I have a few ideas for how we could pass the time.”
Her breath hitched slightly as he nudged one knee between her legs, the length of his body not quite touching hers. “Why…why are you doing this?”
He trailed one finger slowly along the line of her collarbone. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve pictured you naked, Veronica? Did you really think Madison Sinclair was the barely-legal student I wanted to fuck?”
She nearly groaned at the picture his words painted. “Your odds would have been better if you hadn’t been a raging jackass all the time.”
“Maybe,” he conceded, his fingers beginning to toy with the top button on her blouse. “But you’re really, really hot when you’re angry.” Nimbly, he popped open the button, quickly sliding down to the next one and repeating the move. “So what do you say, Veronica? You interested in ending your twenties with a bang?”
This time she did groan at the cheesy double entendre. “How long have you been waiting to use that line?”
“Who cares, as long as it works? So…did it work?
It was the first time she could remember him seeming unsure of himself. Even when he hadn’t know what he was doing, he had swaggered through life with plenty of bravado. Granted, that had been original recipe, pre-baseball-bat-to-the-head Lamb. Maybe the cracked skull had changed more than his career path. “Well,” she said slowly, “I haven’t shot you.”
He grinned down at her. “I’d say that’s a pretty good sign.”
“A big green neon one. So what are you waiting for? Do you need Viagra, old man?”
“What do you think?” he growled, pressing her firmly against the wall with his body.
“I think you’ve got a lot of problems, but that isn’t one of them,” she gasped, pushing back against him with her body to increase the friction.
“Glad we’ve cleared that up,” he replied, returning his attention to the buttons on her blouse. He slid the last one free, and then parted the folds of the fabric. The shirt slid off her shoulders, trapping her arms and her sides, and she squirmed out of it while his fingers caressed her skin from her waist up to just below the smooth curve of her bra.
“So how does it measure up?” Veronica asked, finally freeing her hands and immediately starting to tug his shirt up.
“What’s that?”
“Fantasy vs. reality,” she answered, abandoning her efforts on his shirt and switching her attention to the fly of his jeans.
He didn’t say anything right away, all of his concentration focused on the clasp of her bra. When it finally snapped open, her smirked and said, “There’s no comparison.”
“Is that good or bad?” she laughed, sliding down his zipper and easing her fingers inside.
“Is that insecurity from big, bad Veronica Mars?” he teased. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“That won’t be all you don’t have in me if you don’t shut up,” she growled, but the hand cupping him through his boxers belied her threat.
Still, he wasn’t about to take any chances, so he decided that the best way to shut himself up was to kiss her. It was just as explosive as it had been downstairs, but this time neither one curbed the urge to rip the other’s clothes off. They stumbled through the room, arms and legs tangled together, finally collapsing on the king-sized bed.
“So,” he said, rolling her on top of him and stroking his hands up and down her bare back, “any birthday requests?”
She straddled him languidly, her nails lightly grazing his chest. “Surprise me.”
His hands found her waist, his thumbs gliding along the crease of her hips a promise of things to come. “As you wish.”