FIC: "12 Days of Crossovers: Six Days of Spring Break" (Cappie/Cindy 'Mac' MacKenzie) PG-13
Two days late, but the flu shows no mercy.
Title: 12 Days of Crossovers: Six Days of Spring Break
Author: angel_grace
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Cappie/Cindy 'Mac' MacKenzie
Spoilers: Spoilers for season 2 of Veronica Mars. Not much else.
Summary: Veronica and Mac go on spring break in Daytona Beach, FL. When Veronica winds up out of commission, Mac finds herself in the company of a certain Kappa Tau.
Disclaimer: Greek and Veronica Mars were created by Patrick Sean Smith and Rob Thomas, respectively. No profit is being made from the use of any of the recognizable characters.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Crossovers fic challenge. Pairing and prompt provided by fireflower314.
"Come on, it'll be fun!" Veronica cajoled. "Just once, don't you want to have the stereotypical college spring break experience? Even if it's only to laugh at the drunk, stupid people?"
"Veronica, we live in Neptune. Which is on the beach, last time I checked. Why on earth would I want to fly 2500 miles to go to a different beach?"
"Because it's fun? Supposedly?"
Mac looked up from her laptop and sighed. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
Veronica grinned. "Nope! We're both 21...legally able to get completely debauched in skimpy bikinis."
"My lifelong dream," Mac deadpanned.
Daytona Beach for spring break was everything that everyone said it would be, right down to the ridiculous competitions sponsored by MTV. It was a setting ripe for snark, and Mac would have been perfectly happy to sit on the beach and make rude remarks about all the bimbos and frat boys.
Unfortunately, making rude remarks wasn't much fun when there was no one around to hear them. Veronica's appendix had ruptured six hours after they landed in Florida, and although Mac had spent the entire first day with her at the hospital, now she was on her own. Veronica had insisted that she would be even more miserable knowing that Mac was wasting her spring break sitting in a semi-private room watching the incessant reruns of CSI on Spike.
Mac had promised to have fun on her behalf, to raise a margarita toast to the awesomeness that was Veronica Mars (Veronica had laughed at that, enough that it made her stitches pull, and then Mac felt guilty), and visit her at least once a day.
She wondered how early she could head over to the hospital, and how long she could stay, without seeming utterly pathetic.
She was a fun person. Really. It's just that her idea of fun didn't generally involve beer bongs or wet t-shirt contests.
Hiding out at the motel wasn't even a viable option. A spontaneous party had broken out around the pool at roughly ten a.m., featuring a mass of writhing, scantily clad bodies and a soundtrack that she was pretty sure was all Rihanna songs.
It was sort of like hell with coconut tanning oil.
"You look like you need a drink."
She wasn't sure if the guy was actually talking to her--he would be the first, if he was--but since his eyes were trained directly on her face, it seemed likely. "It might help," she admitted.
"It usually does," he replied with a grin, and she couldn't help noticing that he was pretty cute, despite the cowboy hat and the swim trunks with SpongeBob on them. "I'm Cappie, by the way."
"Mac," she replied automatically. "Cindy, technically. Cindy MacKenzie. But everyone just calls me Mac."
"Nice to meet you, Mac-who-is-technically-Cindy-MacKenzie. Pick your poison...beer? Rum? Tequila? Arsenic?"
She looked at him sharply--acidic wit wasn't what she generally associated with frat boys in dire need of a haircut.
"You just don't look like you're having much fun," he explained quickly. "And that is an absolute cardinal sin on spring break. I was just telling Spitter..."
"Spitter?"
"Rusty, actually, but would you want to go by Rusty?"
"Asks the guy named Cappie."
The grin was back, all easy charm and sly amusement, and wow, she bet this guy got away with murder on a regular basis. "That is a topic entirely unsuitable for spring break, or any other break for that matter, unless you're talking about Point Break, because only the sheer combined awesomeness of Patrick Swayze and Keanu Reeves could come close to prying that origin story out of me."
"I think I need that drink now."
Alcohol, it turned out, improved her attitude considerably, particularly since Cappie mixed a mean mojito. She was even starting to think that "Please Don't Stop the Music" had some lyrical merit when he decided to introduce her to some of his fraternity brothers.
"This is Spitter," he announced proudly, flinging an arm around the neck of a scrawny, awkward-looking kid. "Spitter, this is Mac."
"Hi," he greeted her, somehow managing to make even that one word sound hopelessly confused. The tentative little wave didn't help.
"Hi, Rusty," she replied, pleased that she could remember his name in spite of the rum, and was rewarded with a more relaxed smile.
"And this is Wade, Heath, and of course, the Beaver."
She immediately paled. She hadn't thought about Cassidy in a while, had finally managed to put that horrible chapter of her life in the past. She'd had relationships since then, relationships that didn't end with her naked and abandoned in a hotel room, lucky to be alive. She took an involuntary step backwards, the memories of that awful night rushing back in a flood of images that had the mojitos rising in the back of her throat. "I have to go," she mumbled, and bolted for the building.
Beaver looked over at Cappie, confused. "Haven't gotten that reaction in a while."
"I'd better go check on her," Cappie murmured, beginning to thread his way through the crowd. After twenty minutes of searching, he finally gave up and returned to the party, worry tempering his enjoyment considerably.
Mac rolled over in bed and glanced over at the alarm clock. It wasn't even seven a.m., but sleep had been elusive all night, and it seemed pointless to just stare at the ceiling. At the very least, she could stare at the ocean.
The courtyard and pool area were empty when she emerged from her room half an hour later, her hair still damp from the shower. The remains of the party littered the area, and she pitied whichever underpaid motel employee was forced to clean it up.
She took off her sandals when she reached the sand, enjoying the coolness of it between her toes as she wandered down to the water's edge. This was more her speed--a nearly empty beach, the only sounds the crash of the waves and the scream of the gulls as they swooped overhead.
Sighing, she sat down just above the tide line, stretching her legs so the water barely lapped her toes. It was her third day in Florida, and so far she'd had about an hour of fun. Not exactly the best average.
"What happened to you last night?"
She was surprised to see Cappie standing just behind her. "I can't believe you're up this early," she commented, not bothering to answer his question.
He sank down next to her. "Never actually went to bed," he admitted. "Spring break only comes once a year--I can sleep back in class."
She managed a smile. "You'll have to teach me your secret. This hasn't exactly been the trip I was hoping for."
He rocked towards her, bumped their shoulders together lightly. "Hey, I thought we were having fun last night...for a little while."
"We were," she agreed, "for a little while."
"So what happened?" he asked again. "I know the guys can be a lot to take, but usually they have to actually speak before people figure that out."
"Yeah, sorry about that. I, um, dated a guy once whose nickname was Beaver. It ended...badly." To put it mildly.
She thought, for a moment, that he might push for a better explanation. Instead, he just flashed a smile and said, "See, that's why you need to date guys with truly unique names."
"Like Cappie?" she teased, the relief almost palpable.
His blue eyes twinkled. "That's one option, of course."
"I'll keep that in mind."
There was another party around the motel pool that night, with what seemed like all the same people and all the same music. But instead of wandering around alone, she was with Cappie, who seemed to be followed by a vortex of fun.
When she had gone to the hospital for a visit that afternoon, Veronica had told her she was morally obligated to at least make out with the guy. It wasn't a completely terrible idea.
"What do you want to drink?" Cappie turned and asked her, his fingers grazing hers in a way that seemed oddly intimate given their surroundings.
"Anything but mojitos."
"Coming right up."
When he returned with her drink, Wade, Heath, and Beaver were trailing behind him. Leaning in close, he said quietly, "I thought we could try this again. Okay?"
She nodded, and made it through the reintroductions without having the urge to vomit. "Sorry about last night," she told them, struggling to keep her voice light. "Too many mojitos."
They nodded knowingly. "Happens to the best of us," Beaver intoned solemnly.
She couldn't help but smile at his serious expression, and she felt the knots in her stomach start to unravel. This guy seemed to be about as far from Cassidy Casablancas as you could get.
Maybe spring break hadn't been such a bad idea after all.
When Mac walked into the hospital room the next day, the first thing Veronica asked was, "Did you hook up with Cappie yet?"
Mac blushed. "No. I barely know him. And besides, he goes to school in Ohio. I'll probably never see him again after this week."
"Which is exactly the point! Didn't we agree that we were going to come and have a ridiculously stereotypical spring break experience?"
"I don't remember actually agreeing to that, you know."
"Well, you should have. Come on, Mac. I'm trapped in a hospital room. I need to live vicariously through you, and that includes getting to hear about how you made out with the hot frat boy."
Mac raised her eyebrows. "Any other requests?"
"No, I think that's enough."
"Gee, thanks."
The party that night was on the beach, and Mac spent most of the evening contemplating whether or not she should follow Veronica's advice. Cappie was cute and funny and charming, and she had the sneaking suspicion that he was smarter than he let on. He was totally crushable.
So what was she waiting for?
"You look way too serious," Cappie said as he walked up, interrupting her thoughts. "Everything okay?"
"My friend Veronica thinks we should make out," she blurted, and clearly she should never drink tequila ever again.
She tried to tell her stomach to stop doing flip-flops when he smiled at her. "I think I'd like this Veronica. Does she have any other advice?" he asked, stepping close and tangling their fingers together. "Because I'm completely open to keg stands, skinny dipping, and parasailing."
"Parasailing?"
"It looks like fun."
"I'm not a big fan of heights."
"Guess we should just stick with the making out, then."
She had a witty retort all ready to go, but then he was kissing her, and it didn't seem the least bit important.
She was pretty sure she was going to owe Veronica for this one.
"I can't believe we go home tomorrow," Mac sighed. A thought suddenly occurred to her. "They are letting you go home tomorrow, right? Because flying and me? Not exactly friends."
Veronica chuckled. "Yeah, they said they'd discharge me in the morning, which means I might actually get to spend a little time at the beach. We've been here five days, and all I've done is watch TV."
"Aw, I'm sorry. If it's any consolation...Cappie and I kissed last night."
Veronica looked pleased. "And?"
"And what?"
"And how was it? And did you do anything besides kiss? And why did it take you twenty minutes of sitting there to tell me? Pick one."
"It was...nice."
Veronica wrinkled her nose. "Nice?"
"Not in a bad way! Well, except when his cowboy hat got in the way."
"He has a cowboy hat? You didn't mention a cowboy hat before."
"It didn't seem important."
"Living vicariously, here. Everything is important."
Mac laughed. "Sorry. Should I videotape the sex for you?"
"Ew. No. And is there going to be sex?"
"Presumably someone somewhere will be having sex tonight. Most likely lots of someones."
"Yes, but will you be one of those someones?"
"Maybe?"
"How's your friend doing?" Cappie asked.
"Better. The infection is almost gone, and they're released her tomorrow morning. Just in time for us to go home," she added quietly.
"Yeah, this week has really flown by," he agreed. "Possibly due to alcohol-related memory loss, but I prefer to think it's because of the 'time flying, having fun' corollary."
She laughed. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like you, Cappie."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Because I've gotten that comment in both contexts."
"Definitely a good thing," she laughed, stretching up to kiss him on the cheek. "I actually had fun this week."
"You sound so surprised."
"I am. My fun generally involves computers."
"Kinky."
"Not of the internet porn variety."
"Damn. Because that would have been hot. Although possibly not as cool as parasailing."
"You really need to get over the parasailing thing."
"I'm willing to reopen the skinny dipping negotiations."
"Ask me again later."
"Seriously?"
"Maybe."
"What time do you have to pick up Veronica at the hospital?" Cappie asked, draping his arm over her waist and tugging her closer.
"Not for another couple hours," she replied, rolling over so she was facing him. Skinny dipping negotiations had been highly successful, and had proceeded in a predictable fashion. Cappie had even taken off the cowboy had.
Tracing patterns down her back, he said, "Whatever shall we do to pass the time?"
"Oh, I have a few ideas," she told him, looping her arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly.
Six days in Daytona Beach, and her ratio of fun to not fun was well over fifty percent...but there was still time to improve that average.
"Parasailing?" he teased.
Clearly, there was only one way to shut him up. So she did.
Title: 12 Days of Crossovers: Six Days of Spring Break
Author: angel_grace
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Cappie/Cindy 'Mac' MacKenzie
Spoilers: Spoilers for season 2 of Veronica Mars. Not much else.
Summary: Veronica and Mac go on spring break in Daytona Beach, FL. When Veronica winds up out of commission, Mac finds herself in the company of a certain Kappa Tau.
Disclaimer: Greek and Veronica Mars were created by Patrick Sean Smith and Rob Thomas, respectively. No profit is being made from the use of any of the recognizable characters.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Crossovers fic challenge. Pairing and prompt provided by fireflower314.
"Come on, it'll be fun!" Veronica cajoled. "Just once, don't you want to have the stereotypical college spring break experience? Even if it's only to laugh at the drunk, stupid people?"
"Veronica, we live in Neptune. Which is on the beach, last time I checked. Why on earth would I want to fly 2500 miles to go to a different beach?"
"Because it's fun? Supposedly?"
Mac looked up from her laptop and sighed. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
Veronica grinned. "Nope! We're both 21...legally able to get completely debauched in skimpy bikinis."
"My lifelong dream," Mac deadpanned.
Daytona Beach for spring break was everything that everyone said it would be, right down to the ridiculous competitions sponsored by MTV. It was a setting ripe for snark, and Mac would have been perfectly happy to sit on the beach and make rude remarks about all the bimbos and frat boys.
Unfortunately, making rude remarks wasn't much fun when there was no one around to hear them. Veronica's appendix had ruptured six hours after they landed in Florida, and although Mac had spent the entire first day with her at the hospital, now she was on her own. Veronica had insisted that she would be even more miserable knowing that Mac was wasting her spring break sitting in a semi-private room watching the incessant reruns of CSI on Spike.
Mac had promised to have fun on her behalf, to raise a margarita toast to the awesomeness that was Veronica Mars (Veronica had laughed at that, enough that it made her stitches pull, and then Mac felt guilty), and visit her at least once a day.
She wondered how early she could head over to the hospital, and how long she could stay, without seeming utterly pathetic.
She was a fun person. Really. It's just that her idea of fun didn't generally involve beer bongs or wet t-shirt contests.
Hiding out at the motel wasn't even a viable option. A spontaneous party had broken out around the pool at roughly ten a.m., featuring a mass of writhing, scantily clad bodies and a soundtrack that she was pretty sure was all Rihanna songs.
It was sort of like hell with coconut tanning oil.
"You look like you need a drink."
She wasn't sure if the guy was actually talking to her--he would be the first, if he was--but since his eyes were trained directly on her face, it seemed likely. "It might help," she admitted.
"It usually does," he replied with a grin, and she couldn't help noticing that he was pretty cute, despite the cowboy hat and the swim trunks with SpongeBob on them. "I'm Cappie, by the way."
"Mac," she replied automatically. "Cindy, technically. Cindy MacKenzie. But everyone just calls me Mac."
"Nice to meet you, Mac-who-is-technically-Cindy-MacKenzie. Pick your poison...beer? Rum? Tequila? Arsenic?"
She looked at him sharply--acidic wit wasn't what she generally associated with frat boys in dire need of a haircut.
"You just don't look like you're having much fun," he explained quickly. "And that is an absolute cardinal sin on spring break. I was just telling Spitter..."
"Spitter?"
"Rusty, actually, but would you want to go by Rusty?"
"Asks the guy named Cappie."
The grin was back, all easy charm and sly amusement, and wow, she bet this guy got away with murder on a regular basis. "That is a topic entirely unsuitable for spring break, or any other break for that matter, unless you're talking about Point Break, because only the sheer combined awesomeness of Patrick Swayze and Keanu Reeves could come close to prying that origin story out of me."
"I think I need that drink now."
Alcohol, it turned out, improved her attitude considerably, particularly since Cappie mixed a mean mojito. She was even starting to think that "Please Don't Stop the Music" had some lyrical merit when he decided to introduce her to some of his fraternity brothers.
"This is Spitter," he announced proudly, flinging an arm around the neck of a scrawny, awkward-looking kid. "Spitter, this is Mac."
"Hi," he greeted her, somehow managing to make even that one word sound hopelessly confused. The tentative little wave didn't help.
"Hi, Rusty," she replied, pleased that she could remember his name in spite of the rum, and was rewarded with a more relaxed smile.
"And this is Wade, Heath, and of course, the Beaver."
She immediately paled. She hadn't thought about Cassidy in a while, had finally managed to put that horrible chapter of her life in the past. She'd had relationships since then, relationships that didn't end with her naked and abandoned in a hotel room, lucky to be alive. She took an involuntary step backwards, the memories of that awful night rushing back in a flood of images that had the mojitos rising in the back of her throat. "I have to go," she mumbled, and bolted for the building.
Beaver looked over at Cappie, confused. "Haven't gotten that reaction in a while."
"I'd better go check on her," Cappie murmured, beginning to thread his way through the crowd. After twenty minutes of searching, he finally gave up and returned to the party, worry tempering his enjoyment considerably.
Mac rolled over in bed and glanced over at the alarm clock. It wasn't even seven a.m., but sleep had been elusive all night, and it seemed pointless to just stare at the ceiling. At the very least, she could stare at the ocean.
The courtyard and pool area were empty when she emerged from her room half an hour later, her hair still damp from the shower. The remains of the party littered the area, and she pitied whichever underpaid motel employee was forced to clean it up.
She took off her sandals when she reached the sand, enjoying the coolness of it between her toes as she wandered down to the water's edge. This was more her speed--a nearly empty beach, the only sounds the crash of the waves and the scream of the gulls as they swooped overhead.
Sighing, she sat down just above the tide line, stretching her legs so the water barely lapped her toes. It was her third day in Florida, and so far she'd had about an hour of fun. Not exactly the best average.
"What happened to you last night?"
She was surprised to see Cappie standing just behind her. "I can't believe you're up this early," she commented, not bothering to answer his question.
He sank down next to her. "Never actually went to bed," he admitted. "Spring break only comes once a year--I can sleep back in class."
She managed a smile. "You'll have to teach me your secret. This hasn't exactly been the trip I was hoping for."
He rocked towards her, bumped their shoulders together lightly. "Hey, I thought we were having fun last night...for a little while."
"We were," she agreed, "for a little while."
"So what happened?" he asked again. "I know the guys can be a lot to take, but usually they have to actually speak before people figure that out."
"Yeah, sorry about that. I, um, dated a guy once whose nickname was Beaver. It ended...badly." To put it mildly.
She thought, for a moment, that he might push for a better explanation. Instead, he just flashed a smile and said, "See, that's why you need to date guys with truly unique names."
"Like Cappie?" she teased, the relief almost palpable.
His blue eyes twinkled. "That's one option, of course."
"I'll keep that in mind."
There was another party around the motel pool that night, with what seemed like all the same people and all the same music. But instead of wandering around alone, she was with Cappie, who seemed to be followed by a vortex of fun.
When she had gone to the hospital for a visit that afternoon, Veronica had told her she was morally obligated to at least make out with the guy. It wasn't a completely terrible idea.
"What do you want to drink?" Cappie turned and asked her, his fingers grazing hers in a way that seemed oddly intimate given their surroundings.
"Anything but mojitos."
"Coming right up."
When he returned with her drink, Wade, Heath, and Beaver were trailing behind him. Leaning in close, he said quietly, "I thought we could try this again. Okay?"
She nodded, and made it through the reintroductions without having the urge to vomit. "Sorry about last night," she told them, struggling to keep her voice light. "Too many mojitos."
They nodded knowingly. "Happens to the best of us," Beaver intoned solemnly.
She couldn't help but smile at his serious expression, and she felt the knots in her stomach start to unravel. This guy seemed to be about as far from Cassidy Casablancas as you could get.
Maybe spring break hadn't been such a bad idea after all.
When Mac walked into the hospital room the next day, the first thing Veronica asked was, "Did you hook up with Cappie yet?"
Mac blushed. "No. I barely know him. And besides, he goes to school in Ohio. I'll probably never see him again after this week."
"Which is exactly the point! Didn't we agree that we were going to come and have a ridiculously stereotypical spring break experience?"
"I don't remember actually agreeing to that, you know."
"Well, you should have. Come on, Mac. I'm trapped in a hospital room. I need to live vicariously through you, and that includes getting to hear about how you made out with the hot frat boy."
Mac raised her eyebrows. "Any other requests?"
"No, I think that's enough."
"Gee, thanks."
The party that night was on the beach, and Mac spent most of the evening contemplating whether or not she should follow Veronica's advice. Cappie was cute and funny and charming, and she had the sneaking suspicion that he was smarter than he let on. He was totally crushable.
So what was she waiting for?
"You look way too serious," Cappie said as he walked up, interrupting her thoughts. "Everything okay?"
"My friend Veronica thinks we should make out," she blurted, and clearly she should never drink tequila ever again.
She tried to tell her stomach to stop doing flip-flops when he smiled at her. "I think I'd like this Veronica. Does she have any other advice?" he asked, stepping close and tangling their fingers together. "Because I'm completely open to keg stands, skinny dipping, and parasailing."
"Parasailing?"
"It looks like fun."
"I'm not a big fan of heights."
"Guess we should just stick with the making out, then."
She had a witty retort all ready to go, but then he was kissing her, and it didn't seem the least bit important.
She was pretty sure she was going to owe Veronica for this one.
"I can't believe we go home tomorrow," Mac sighed. A thought suddenly occurred to her. "They are letting you go home tomorrow, right? Because flying and me? Not exactly friends."
Veronica chuckled. "Yeah, they said they'd discharge me in the morning, which means I might actually get to spend a little time at the beach. We've been here five days, and all I've done is watch TV."
"Aw, I'm sorry. If it's any consolation...Cappie and I kissed last night."
Veronica looked pleased. "And?"
"And what?"
"And how was it? And did you do anything besides kiss? And why did it take you twenty minutes of sitting there to tell me? Pick one."
"It was...nice."
Veronica wrinkled her nose. "Nice?"
"Not in a bad way! Well, except when his cowboy hat got in the way."
"He has a cowboy hat? You didn't mention a cowboy hat before."
"It didn't seem important."
"Living vicariously, here. Everything is important."
Mac laughed. "Sorry. Should I videotape the sex for you?"
"Ew. No. And is there going to be sex?"
"Presumably someone somewhere will be having sex tonight. Most likely lots of someones."
"Yes, but will you be one of those someones?"
"Maybe?"
"How's your friend doing?" Cappie asked.
"Better. The infection is almost gone, and they're released her tomorrow morning. Just in time for us to go home," she added quietly.
"Yeah, this week has really flown by," he agreed. "Possibly due to alcohol-related memory loss, but I prefer to think it's because of the 'time flying, having fun' corollary."
She laughed. "I don't think I've ever met anyone like you, Cappie."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Because I've gotten that comment in both contexts."
"Definitely a good thing," she laughed, stretching up to kiss him on the cheek. "I actually had fun this week."
"You sound so surprised."
"I am. My fun generally involves computers."
"Kinky."
"Not of the internet porn variety."
"Damn. Because that would have been hot. Although possibly not as cool as parasailing."
"You really need to get over the parasailing thing."
"I'm willing to reopen the skinny dipping negotiations."
"Ask me again later."
"Seriously?"
"Maybe."
"What time do you have to pick up Veronica at the hospital?" Cappie asked, draping his arm over her waist and tugging her closer.
"Not for another couple hours," she replied, rolling over so she was facing him. Skinny dipping negotiations had been highly successful, and had proceeded in a predictable fashion. Cappie had even taken off the cowboy had.
Tracing patterns down her back, he said, "Whatever shall we do to pass the time?"
"Oh, I have a few ideas," she told him, looping her arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly.
Six days in Daytona Beach, and her ratio of fun to not fun was well over fifty percent...but there was still time to improve that average.
"Parasailing?" he teased.
Clearly, there was only one way to shut him up. So she did.