Next Step (1/1)
Title: Next Step
Part: 1 of 1.
Author: ninamazing, or Nina
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Word Count: 662.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: Through 3x13 "Postgame Mortem." Ish.
Characters: Veronica/Mac.
Excerpt: The girl in question snuggles against her side. It's something you can do when you've known a person for almost three years, but Mac feels it keenly: Veronica's soft and solid shape, cozy in flannel.
Author's Note: Written for oxoniensis's ever-fabulous Porn Battle VII (The Seven Deadly Sins). Best. Show. Ever.
She's always been the prettier one. The one who knows what guys mean when they say they'll call (the one to whom guys actually say they'll call); the one who has genuine practice giving blowjobs. "Slutty" is your word choice. Mine was "worldly." Mac doesn't know what's going on with Logan - she wonders if she's ever known - but she suspects it must be something awful, because Veronica has never been the one who begs her inexperienced nerd-sidekick to stay the night after a furious bout of studying for Fundamentals of Java.
Okay, she didn't beg. At least, not with her mouth. All she said was that her water bed was a major step up from the two-inch thick, semen- and soda- stained mattresses of Hearst's Division of Residential Life; and Mac caught the look in her eyes. It was the wobbly mix of determination and helplessness that people never noticed until they learned to look for it - the only visible clue that Veronica needed something.
So here they are, breathing next to each other and sharing a comforter, and Mac is trying not to think about Bronson and finding that it is easy. Mac shoved her books away while Veronica changed, but she'd looked up a count too early and met the vision of those long pale legs, purple underwear with ivory stars, and the fragile line of Veronica's bare spine. She always seemed so strong in day clothes with that ever-present brown bag.
On her back, Mac breathes in and out. The buttons and catches on her jeans seem unfriendlier than ever in the quiet of bedtime, but there is no way Veronica's seeing her skin-toned, enormous cotton briefs.
The girl in question snuggles against her side. It's something you can do when you've known a person for almost three years, but Mac feels it keenly: Veronica's soft and solid shape, cozy in flannel.
"Hey, make yourself at home," Veronica quips. "You should at least take off your bra. Sleeping in those things is like some form of medieval torture."
Well, that's one way of going about it. The Mars boldness strikes again, Mac thinks; Veronica 1, Cindy 0.
"Mac?"
"Yeah," she says finally, and sits up so that Veronica rolls back. "Good idea." Mac fumbles with the clasp at her back. "I, uh - I usually just pull them over my head, you know?"
"I got it," her friend offers, and then one very nimble white arm is slinking up the back of her shirt and releasing her chest from its bind. Together, they tug out the fabric and watch as it drops to the carpet.
"As your true-blue gal pal," Veronica tells her, grinning, "I feel obligated to affirm that you have a very enviable rack of lamb going on there. Ugh, sorry - regrettable word choice. Rack of boob."
They can't help laughing. And then the laugh goes on for a second or so longer than either of them expected, and there's nothing to follow it up, so they just stare at each other in the dark, loose inside their shirts.
It is Mac who leans first, but they both open their lips into the kiss. Veronica can do even better things with her mouth, Mac decides, than prevaricate and banter. She circles her arms around her friend. Veronica doesn't know how to ask for help when it doesn't involve a computer, but she's learning, and Mac has made it clear tonight: I'm here if you need me.
Veronica's hands are gentler, warmer, than Mac's own as they cover her breasts. Mac remembers the face of her new acquaintance, a blonde daredevil, telling her the biggest secret of her life with a file folder open on her lap. Mac sees Veronica bursting into a Neptune Grand hotel room, gripping her shoulders and hugging her out of her stasis. They've traded glances over Parker's shoulder a thousand times, made a dozen inside jokes.
This is just the natural next step.
Part: 1 of 1.
Author: ninamazing, or Nina
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Word Count: 662.
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: Through 3x13 "Postgame Mortem." Ish.
Characters: Veronica/Mac.
Excerpt: The girl in question snuggles against her side. It's something you can do when you've known a person for almost three years, but Mac feels it keenly: Veronica's soft and solid shape, cozy in flannel.
Author's Note: Written for oxoniensis's ever-fabulous Porn Battle VII (The Seven Deadly Sins). Best. Show. Ever.
She's always been the prettier one. The one who knows what guys mean when they say they'll call (the one to whom guys actually say they'll call); the one who has genuine practice giving blowjobs. "Slutty" is your word choice. Mine was "worldly." Mac doesn't know what's going on with Logan - she wonders if she's ever known - but she suspects it must be something awful, because Veronica has never been the one who begs her inexperienced nerd-sidekick to stay the night after a furious bout of studying for Fundamentals of Java.
Okay, she didn't beg. At least, not with her mouth. All she said was that her water bed was a major step up from the two-inch thick, semen- and soda- stained mattresses of Hearst's Division of Residential Life; and Mac caught the look in her eyes. It was the wobbly mix of determination and helplessness that people never noticed until they learned to look for it - the only visible clue that Veronica needed something.
So here they are, breathing next to each other and sharing a comforter, and Mac is trying not to think about Bronson and finding that it is easy. Mac shoved her books away while Veronica changed, but she'd looked up a count too early and met the vision of those long pale legs, purple underwear with ivory stars, and the fragile line of Veronica's bare spine. She always seemed so strong in day clothes with that ever-present brown bag.
On her back, Mac breathes in and out. The buttons and catches on her jeans seem unfriendlier than ever in the quiet of bedtime, but there is no way Veronica's seeing her skin-toned, enormous cotton briefs.
The girl in question snuggles against her side. It's something you can do when you've known a person for almost three years, but Mac feels it keenly: Veronica's soft and solid shape, cozy in flannel.
"Hey, make yourself at home," Veronica quips. "You should at least take off your bra. Sleeping in those things is like some form of medieval torture."
Well, that's one way of going about it. The Mars boldness strikes again, Mac thinks; Veronica 1, Cindy 0.
"Mac?"
"Yeah," she says finally, and sits up so that Veronica rolls back. "Good idea." Mac fumbles with the clasp at her back. "I, uh - I usually just pull them over my head, you know?"
"I got it," her friend offers, and then one very nimble white arm is slinking up the back of her shirt and releasing her chest from its bind. Together, they tug out the fabric and watch as it drops to the carpet.
"As your true-blue gal pal," Veronica tells her, grinning, "I feel obligated to affirm that you have a very enviable rack of lamb going on there. Ugh, sorry - regrettable word choice. Rack of boob."
They can't help laughing. And then the laugh goes on for a second or so longer than either of them expected, and there's nothing to follow it up, so they just stare at each other in the dark, loose inside their shirts.
It is Mac who leans first, but they both open their lips into the kiss. Veronica can do even better things with her mouth, Mac decides, than prevaricate and banter. She circles her arms around her friend. Veronica doesn't know how to ask for help when it doesn't involve a computer, but she's learning, and Mac has made it clear tonight: I'm here if you need me.
Veronica's hands are gentler, warmer, than Mac's own as they cover her breasts. Mac remembers the face of her new acquaintance, a blonde daredevil, telling her the biggest secret of her life with a file folder open on her lap. Mac sees Veronica bursting into a Neptune Grand hotel room, gripping her shoulders and hugging her out of her stasis. They've traded glances over Parker's shoulder a thousand times, made a dozen inside jokes.
This is just the natural next step.