Fic Conceivable (MaDi/DoVe) PG13 Chap 7 That's the Plan?
Title Conceivable
Chapter 7 That’s the Plan?
Author Devylish
Pairing Um, MaDi and DoVe
Rating PG-13
Words 1364
Disclaimer All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plot, etc. are the property of the creators of the TV show Veronica Mars. Any original characters, settings and plots are the property of devylish. devylish is in no way associated with the TV show Veronica Mars and no copyright infringement is intended. This work is an amateur fan effort and no profit is being made.
AN unbeta’d
Previous Conceptions
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Veronica will admit that when she was a little girl, she had imagined kissing Deputy Don Lamb. She’d imagined they would be dancing, her in his arms, spinning around in a chandelier filled room, music wrapping around both of them as her arms draped his neck and his hands circled her waist. She’d imagined the music swelling to a close, and then… she’d pictured him pulling her closer and curving their bodies into a dreamy, romantic dip.
When she was younger, Veronica had dreamed a lot.
Then she grew up.
She grew up and she stopped imagining Don Lamb as a knight; or a prince.
She grew up and she saw the deputy for what he was, an incapable, muscle-bound, bumpkin.
But, even when she was a young girl, filled with the most romantic of fantasies, Veronica had never, ever, thought that kissing Don Lamb would feel like this. Like… like everything right and wrong, good and bad, sweet and salty, dark and light, all rolled up into one.
Something in the back of her head told her to push his hand away from her waist. That same something told her not to open her mouth to his teasing lips and his nipping teeth.
Veronica had never cared for being told what to do. Not even when it was her own confused conscience doing the ‘telling’. So she ignored the warning in the corners of her mind, and slipped her fingers up over his forearms and biceps, exploring the contours of his muscles and silk of his skin; pulling him closer versus pushing him away. She also ignored the warning bell that quietly rang in her mind telling her to pull away from his mouth. And instead she followed his lips, chased after them when he lifted his head to breathe. She followed them until her lips once again caressed his, tasting him.
Milk Chocolate.
Hot Caramel.
Vanilla Lattes.
Don Lamb.
All of them are undeniably bad for me. So why do all of them have to taste sooo damn good.
When her lungs finally began to scream for their own sustenance, she pulled away from him. And then even the air she breathed was filled with him….
Their foreheads touched as they struggled for breath and for sanity. Both illusive as they continued to mindlessly peck and nibble at one another’s skin; his lips to her cheek, her tongue to his jaw.
Don lifted his fingers to Veronica’s face, tracing the same path along her face that his lips took. His lips and his fingers agreed; she was beautiful. Letting his hand grace down her neck, he wondered when, IF, this madness would end. When he would wake from the dream.
Because, he always woke from the dream; perhaps it was just before they kissed. Or perhaps, it was just before his hands touched her breasts - as they were doing now. Her perfect, perfect breasts.
But definitely, indubitably, no matter where he was in the dream, he woke up. Hard, throbbing, frustrated and sleep deprived.
He wondered, again, when he would wake up.
Sliding his fingers further down her body, he measured the width of her ribcage with his hand - she was so tiny - before he slipped his fingers inside of the waistband of her jeans. His hand thrummed with the heat generated from her belly. It thrummed loudly..., and he woke up.
This is Veronica Mars. A pregnant Veronica Mars.
“Shit!”
He pulled away from her as if scalded. “Fuck!” Scrambling to his feet and shifting away from her like a teenage boy caught playing with his dad’s porn mags, Lamb took one look at Veronica’s surprised countenance and backed away.
“I’m - I’m sorry. I’m really… umm, let me know if you have any problems with Casablancas.” He didn’t run, he wouldn’t let himself ‘run’, but he definitely retreated expeditiously. I knew I was going to hell, but making out with another guy’s pregnant girl? A Veronica Mars flavored girl??? Fuck! They may make me King of my own perverted section of hell.
Veronica dropped back against the tree in a daze. A tree that she now bore bark imprints of against her back; imprints caused by the weight of Don Lamb pressed against her as he kissed the life out of her… Right before he jumped away like she had cooties.
Brushing her fingers across the lips that still tasted of Lamb she murmured out loud. “What. The. Fuck. Was. That?”
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Mac sat on Dick’s lap as he leaned against the arm of the couch. “Seriously Dick, I’m starting to feel bad for Veronica.”
Lacing his fingers through Mac’s, Dick held her hands up and out, quietly marveling at how tiny her fingers were. “Veronica is a tough cookie. She doesn’t need anyone worrying about her.”
“The tough cookies are the ones you HAVE to worry about; they crumble the easiest… it’s hard for them to bend. Veronica doesn’t like bending. She hates bending. Bending makes her angry.”
“And crumbly?”
Mac stuck her tongue out at Dick.
“Don’t stick your tongue out unless you plan to use it woman.”
“I’d give you the finger, but you’re holding my hands.”
“How about we compromise, and you give me a kiss?”
“How the hell is that a compromise?”
“Feisty woman! It’s a compromise because we both know I focus much better when I’ve been serviced.”
Mac freed a hand and whacked Dick on the chest. “Serviced?!”
“Serviced.”
“You’re lucky I…,” Mac bit her tongue and scootched down on Dick’s frame so that she was laying along his body.
“I’m lucky you…??? What?”
“You’re lucky I, uh, find you so sexy and irresistible.”
With a sigh, Dick curved his fingers through Mac’s hair, her pretty chocolate locks. “I know I’m lucky, Mac. I know it.”
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“So that’s the plan?” Veronica stared at Dick and Mac.
“That’s the plan.”
“That’s not a plan. That’s a bad soap opera plot; a weak fiction ploy. Mac, I thought you were more creative than this; this won’t work. Can’t we just tell Lamb the truth?”
“Bad luck,” Dick and Mac said simultaneously.
Veronica ground her teeth silently. “I don’t WANT Dick to be my pretend boyfriend.”
“Ronnie, it’s only for like three weeks, and then only really around Lamb.”
“Lamb’s everywhere. He’s like God…, or something.” Veronica mumbled and banged her head against the café table.
“It’s actually a little under three weeks, if that helps.” Mac offered weakly.
Turning her head to the side so that it rested on her forearm, Veronica responded glumly, “Nope, not helping. Still involves me cooing in Dick’s direction.”
The object of her complaint piped up - loudly. “Dude!! Dick’s right here!!! And Dick’s not lovin’ the whole Ronnie/Dick pic either! But do you see Dick complaining…? No, Dick is biting the fucking bullet for the fucking mother of his child. Gooooo Dick!!”
Propping her head back up so that she was looking at Dick and Mac’s side of the table Veronica raised an eyebrow. “Why is Dick speaking in third person?”
Mac soothingly patted Dick’s hand. “He gets confused sometimes.” Her smirk was contagious, and within seconds, Veronica found herself giggling with her best-budette as if neither one of them had a care in the world.
Dick smiled and settled lower in the booth, at least Mac was happy and laughing… for the past few days, she really had stressed over Veronica’s situation. It was nice to see her giggle and tease and laugh. Willingly adding fuel to the fire, he spoke up over their laughter “So, Dick takes it that the plan is a go?”
Mac wouldn’t ask me to do this if she knew about the kiss but no one knows. Hell, I’m half convinced that it never occurred. With an inward sigh Veronica closed her eyes and leaped into the travesty that she was certain would result from their little plot. “Yes, yes. The plan is a go. There will be Ronnie and Dick cooing. Limited Ronnie and Dick cooing; like, only in the direct hearing and seeing of Lamb. But, there will be,” she gulped for effect, ‘cooing….”