fic: "Rescue at the River Stix," Veronica Mars, V/Lamb
Rescue at the River Stix
“Veronica Mars,” Veronica/Lamb
Spoilers through Of Vice and Men
Summary: Veronica made a pastime of mocking him about never doing his job correctly, but Lamb still knew the standard Damsel in Distress procedure.
My muse/best friend/partner in crime and I were watching Of Vice and Men.
"Wouldn't it be cute if Lamb rescued Veronica at the River Stix?" she casually inquired, glancing at me in that special way--the way that says I think this would make a nice fic, hint-hint.
And who am I if not an observant hint-taker?
----
“What now, Mars?” Paperwork was piling up at the Sheriff’s office and Lamb didn’t have time for her cute little prank calls. He got them at least three times a day-Veronica’s perky voice chirping across the phone lines. “Whatcha wearing, Deputy? Are you thinking about me? Do you miss me? Do you want me?”
“Get to the River Stix, now.” The desperation in her voice made him pause. She sounded scared and out of breath-like she was running away from something, or from someone.
“Veronica-” he began, but all he heard was “Meryl, wait!” and then they were disconnected. “Shit,” he muttered, springing into action. Veronica made a pastime of mocking him about never doing his job correctly, but Lamb still knew the standard Damsel in Distress procedure. Book it to the cruiser, turn on the lights and sirens and run every red light between the sheriff’s department and the headquarters for Neptune’s resident family of crime.
“Dammit, Mars,” he muttered, trying to clear his mind from images of Veronica in that hell-hole-Veronica with a gun pointed at her head; Veronica being manhandled by Liam Fitzpatrick; Veronica being held down against the bloodstained green felt on a pool table, kicking and screaming as her shirt was torn off. Lamb pressed down the gas pedal and clenched the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
He screeched into the parking lot with the sirens blaring and his gun half out of his holster, but the look of blind relief on his girl’s face when he burst through the door of the River Stix made it all worthwhile. Liam dropped Veronica, backing away quickly while the other patrons tried to look busy and disinterested. Veronica and her friend-a cute red head who looked pretty frazzled-scooted out of the bar like they were being chased by wolves.
Before he followed them, Lamb took a moment to hook his hands in his belt loops, snap his gum and warn the Fitzpatricks not to mess with Veronica Mars, but his bravado faded when he stepped into the sun. Veronica was leaning against her car trying to catch her breath. When he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, Lamb could feel her shaking. She leaned into him, broke down and started sobbing-God, he hated it when she cried. He never knew what to do when women started crying, not to mention a woman as hard assed as Veronica Mars.
“It’s okay now,” he murmured awkwardly, trying to smooth her hair with one hand. “You’re out of there and that asshole won’t touch you again.” She nodded and took a deep breath, wiping her still-leaking eyes and pulling away from him reluctantly.
“Th-thanks,” she muttered, trying to walk away.
“Hold it, Mars. What the hell were you doing on Fitzpatrick turf? Besides giving me a heart attack, I mean.”
Veronica opened her mouth-to lie, probably-but the red head spoke first. “We were looking for my boyfriend Sully. W-we tracked his cell phone here.”
Veronica sighed, “Have you seen him? Maybe he got drunk and hauled into the station?”
“Blonde hair? Wearing a wet-suit?”
The red head looked eager, "I don’t know about the wet suit... but he does have blonde hair.”
Lamb shrugged. “Follow me to the station and we’ll check it out.” He put a hand on Veronica’s arm. “Are you okay to drive?” When she just nodded he slid a hand under her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. “Are you sure? I can drive you to the station and we can pick your car up later.”
Veronica nodded and smiled. The smile was unconvincing, but Lamb let it slide. The red head looked from Veronica to Lamb and back to Veronica.
“I though you said he was a moron,” she whispered. Lamb raised his eyebrow at Veronica, who had the good grace to blush.
“A moron, huh?” He put his hand at the small of her back and walked her to the driver’s side of her car. Leaning in, Lamb put his mouth at her ear and let his breath tickle her skin. “If you can’t be nicer I might have to break out the cuffs.” Veronica shivered and Lamb smirked and snapped his gum. “Have a good day, ladies,” he called with a wink.
Lamb’s drive back to the station was slow and leisurely. He stopped at the red lights and gave pedestrians the right of way. He let the circulation return to the fingers that had been clenched tight, ready for a brawl. He took deep breaths as he glanced in the rear-view mirror, reminding himself that Veronica Mars-his Veronica Mars-was safe and sound.
He made a mental note not to snap at her the next time she made one of her cute little prank calls.
“Veronica Mars,” Veronica/Lamb
Spoilers through Of Vice and Men
Summary: Veronica made a pastime of mocking him about never doing his job correctly, but Lamb still knew the standard Damsel in Distress procedure.
My muse/best friend/partner in crime and I were watching Of Vice and Men.
"Wouldn't it be cute if Lamb rescued Veronica at the River Stix?" she casually inquired, glancing at me in that special way--the way that says I think this would make a nice fic, hint-hint.
And who am I if not an observant hint-taker?
----
“What now, Mars?” Paperwork was piling up at the Sheriff’s office and Lamb didn’t have time for her cute little prank calls. He got them at least three times a day-Veronica’s perky voice chirping across the phone lines. “Whatcha wearing, Deputy? Are you thinking about me? Do you miss me? Do you want me?”
“Get to the River Stix, now.” The desperation in her voice made him pause. She sounded scared and out of breath-like she was running away from something, or from someone.
“Veronica-” he began, but all he heard was “Meryl, wait!” and then they were disconnected. “Shit,” he muttered, springing into action. Veronica made a pastime of mocking him about never doing his job correctly, but Lamb still knew the standard Damsel in Distress procedure. Book it to the cruiser, turn on the lights and sirens and run every red light between the sheriff’s department and the headquarters for Neptune’s resident family of crime.
“Dammit, Mars,” he muttered, trying to clear his mind from images of Veronica in that hell-hole-Veronica with a gun pointed at her head; Veronica being manhandled by Liam Fitzpatrick; Veronica being held down against the bloodstained green felt on a pool table, kicking and screaming as her shirt was torn off. Lamb pressed down the gas pedal and clenched the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.
He screeched into the parking lot with the sirens blaring and his gun half out of his holster, but the look of blind relief on his girl’s face when he burst through the door of the River Stix made it all worthwhile. Liam dropped Veronica, backing away quickly while the other patrons tried to look busy and disinterested. Veronica and her friend-a cute red head who looked pretty frazzled-scooted out of the bar like they were being chased by wolves.
Before he followed them, Lamb took a moment to hook his hands in his belt loops, snap his gum and warn the Fitzpatricks not to mess with Veronica Mars, but his bravado faded when he stepped into the sun. Veronica was leaning against her car trying to catch her breath. When he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, Lamb could feel her shaking. She leaned into him, broke down and started sobbing-God, he hated it when she cried. He never knew what to do when women started crying, not to mention a woman as hard assed as Veronica Mars.
“It’s okay now,” he murmured awkwardly, trying to smooth her hair with one hand. “You’re out of there and that asshole won’t touch you again.” She nodded and took a deep breath, wiping her still-leaking eyes and pulling away from him reluctantly.
“Th-thanks,” she muttered, trying to walk away.
“Hold it, Mars. What the hell were you doing on Fitzpatrick turf? Besides giving me a heart attack, I mean.”
Veronica opened her mouth-to lie, probably-but the red head spoke first. “We were looking for my boyfriend Sully. W-we tracked his cell phone here.”
Veronica sighed, “Have you seen him? Maybe he got drunk and hauled into the station?”
“Blonde hair? Wearing a wet-suit?”
The red head looked eager, "I don’t know about the wet suit... but he does have blonde hair.”
Lamb shrugged. “Follow me to the station and we’ll check it out.” He put a hand on Veronica’s arm. “Are you okay to drive?” When she just nodded he slid a hand under her chin and tilted her head up to look at him. “Are you sure? I can drive you to the station and we can pick your car up later.”
Veronica nodded and smiled. The smile was unconvincing, but Lamb let it slide. The red head looked from Veronica to Lamb and back to Veronica.
“I though you said he was a moron,” she whispered. Lamb raised his eyebrow at Veronica, who had the good grace to blush.
“A moron, huh?” He put his hand at the small of her back and walked her to the driver’s side of her car. Leaning in, Lamb put his mouth at her ear and let his breath tickle her skin. “If you can’t be nicer I might have to break out the cuffs.” Veronica shivered and Lamb smirked and snapped his gum. “Have a good day, ladies,” he called with a wink.
Lamb’s drive back to the station was slow and leisurely. He stopped at the red lights and gave pedestrians the right of way. He let the circulation return to the fingers that had been clenched tight, ready for a brawl. He took deep breaths as he glanced in the rear-view mirror, reminding himself that Veronica Mars-his Veronica Mars-was safe and sound.
He made a mental note not to snap at her the next time she made one of her cute little prank calls.