FIC- Veronica Mars (V/Weevil, 1/1)
Title: The Outside Looking In
Author: ashleigh (leobrat)
Character/Pairing: Veronica/Weevil
Rating: pg-13, for use of the f-word
Word Count: 931
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: written for the Ennui Challenge at Head_Tilt. Filler for Mars, Bars
Spoilers/Warnings: Knowledge of the events in VM 3x14, and a general knowledge of the V/W relationship, but nothing really revealing.
Author's Note: Actually, my first V/W fic *ever*.
“Yo, what’s happening?” Weevil had to admit it, he took a perverse pleasure in this role reversal, him on the outside, her behind bars. He’d been half-choked on the ride over, thinking he was going to see something out of The Last Dance, Veronica all shame-faced and big Precious Moments eyes. But nope, she was lounging on that crappy bunk like Cleopatra, putting fucking corn-rows her hair. Never let it be said that the girl didn’t get in character.
She looked up when she saw him, pouting her lips in a way that she probably thought was ‘gangsta’. He would have called it ‘pornstar’.
“What up, cuz?” She nodded her head at him and stood up. “Holla at’cha, boy.” And he realized she was doing her very best impression of him. And he didn’t know if that made him proud that she thought of him enough to study his habits (which...come on, that so didn’t make him special in her book), or pissed that somewhere in the back of her head, she still thought of him as the King of the PCH. Or maybe he was just frustrated because when she pouted like that, all he could think of fucking her blind.
So he just rolled his eyes and pulled up the visitor’s chair close to the cell. “Holla, son,” he said. Dammit he couldn’t help but smile. Nothing got Veronica Mars down.
“What are you doing here, Weevil?” She leaned back against her bunk and crossed her arms across her stomach. Red sunlight filtered in slantways from the window, and God sometimes it really took his fucking breath away how preposterously beautiful she was.
“Ah, I was bored,” he said, nonchalantly lifting his palms in the air. The truth was when he’d heard that Lamb had strolled into one of her classes and arrested her in front of her professor and God (fucking guy just wouldn’t let go of high school), he’d had horribly exaggerated visions of Veronica hauled into some hardened state penitentiary, being Big Bertha’s little pocket sister. Of course that would be ridiculous. She wasn’t going to Chino, just his home away from home, the Balboa County Sherriff’s Department. Which was actually pretty cushy. Sacks would bring in his mother’s left-over brownies. Cliff would stop by every so often and let him know the Sharks score- depending on his mood. Picking on Lamb was like sparring with a seven-year-old. It wasn’t too terrible. “Actually...I thought you might be bored. I know how it gets in here.”
She smiled at him, tilting her head to the left. Christ. Does she fucking do it on purpose? “I actually thought you might be here to gloat. I wasn’t very nice to you the last time our situations were reversed.”
“Me? Gloat?” He chuckled. “Not my style, baby.” He paused. “But, if that’s an apology, I accept.”
“Good,” she said, leaning off her bunk, and quickly looking away. God forbid things get too personal for a second. “So, any tips? What did you do to...alleviate the boredom when you were...away?”
Tactful. “You...really want to know, V?” he raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“Weevil!” Her scandalized shock was at such odds with her decidedly *not* prim and proper demeanor, he had to laugh.
“You asked!” He grinned. “Um, what did I do? I don’t know, I read a lot, I played cards, I worked out- well, a little anyways. I got ink...”
“So, that’s where all that Picasso came from?” She sat back on her own bunk. “Always wondered.”
“Yeah, not all of it,” he answered. Goddammit if he didn’t feel like he was just chilling at Starbucks with her- not that they’d ever been to Starbucks, just chilling together.
She rolled her sleeve up, revealing her tiny bicep. “Got a pen?”
“Don’t you think I deserve a souvenir of the Big House?” She sat down on the floor cross-legged, as close to the bars as she could get. He sighed and joined her. It was the only way he could reach her properly.
He drew out the pen he had in his jacket pocket and took her arm in his hand. He could just about fit his thumb to his middle finger all the way around it. “What do you want, V? ‘I Heart Weevil’? Skull and crossbones? Wait, let me guess...The Chinese symbol for ‘sexy’?”
“Surprise me, Mr. Navarro,” she rolled her eyes, looking over her other shoulder, not even concerned that he really might tag ‘I Heart Weevil’ in big bold letters.
“‘Kay, V, I’ll surprise you,” he said, as he began to concentrate on his design. God knew she always surprised him.
Author: ashleigh (leobrat)
Character/Pairing: Veronica/Weevil
Rating: pg-13, for use of the f-word
Word Count: 931
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: written for the Ennui Challenge at Head_Tilt. Filler for Mars, Bars
Spoilers/Warnings: Knowledge of the events in VM 3x14, and a general knowledge of the V/W relationship, but nothing really revealing.
Author's Note: Actually, my first V/W fic *ever*.
“Yo, what’s happening?” Weevil had to admit it, he took a perverse pleasure in this role reversal, him on the outside, her behind bars. He’d been half-choked on the ride over, thinking he was going to see something out of The Last Dance, Veronica all shame-faced and big Precious Moments eyes. But nope, she was lounging on that crappy bunk like Cleopatra, putting fucking corn-rows her hair. Never let it be said that the girl didn’t get in character.
She looked up when she saw him, pouting her lips in a way that she probably thought was ‘gangsta’. He would have called it ‘pornstar’.
“What up, cuz?” She nodded her head at him and stood up. “Holla at’cha, boy.” And he realized she was doing her very best impression of him. And he didn’t know if that made him proud that she thought of him enough to study his habits (which...come on, that so didn’t make him special in her book), or pissed that somewhere in the back of her head, she still thought of him as the King of the PCH. Or maybe he was just frustrated because when she pouted like that, all he could think of fucking her blind.
So he just rolled his eyes and pulled up the visitor’s chair close to the cell. “Holla, son,” he said. Dammit he couldn’t help but smile. Nothing got Veronica Mars down.
“What are you doing here, Weevil?” She leaned back against her bunk and crossed her arms across her stomach. Red sunlight filtered in slantways from the window, and God sometimes it really took his fucking breath away how preposterously beautiful she was.
“Ah, I was bored,” he said, nonchalantly lifting his palms in the air. The truth was when he’d heard that Lamb had strolled into one of her classes and arrested her in front of her professor and God (fucking guy just wouldn’t let go of high school), he’d had horribly exaggerated visions of Veronica hauled into some hardened state penitentiary, being Big Bertha’s little pocket sister. Of course that would be ridiculous. She wasn’t going to Chino, just his home away from home, the Balboa County Sherriff’s Department. Which was actually pretty cushy. Sacks would bring in his mother’s left-over brownies. Cliff would stop by every so often and let him know the Sharks score- depending on his mood. Picking on Lamb was like sparring with a seven-year-old. It wasn’t too terrible. “Actually...I thought you might be bored. I know how it gets in here.”
She smiled at him, tilting her head to the left. Christ. Does she fucking do it on purpose? “I actually thought you might be here to gloat. I wasn’t very nice to you the last time our situations were reversed.”
“Me? Gloat?” He chuckled. “Not my style, baby.” He paused. “But, if that’s an apology, I accept.”
“Good,” she said, leaning off her bunk, and quickly looking away. God forbid things get too personal for a second. “So, any tips? What did you do to...alleviate the boredom when you were...away?”
Tactful. “You...really want to know, V?” he raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“Weevil!” Her scandalized shock was at such odds with her decidedly *not* prim and proper demeanor, he had to laugh.
“You asked!” He grinned. “Um, what did I do? I don’t know, I read a lot, I played cards, I worked out- well, a little anyways. I got ink...”
“So, that’s where all that Picasso came from?” She sat back on her own bunk. “Always wondered.”
“Yeah, not all of it,” he answered. Goddammit if he didn’t feel like he was just chilling at Starbucks with her- not that they’d ever been to Starbucks, just chilling together.
She rolled her sleeve up, revealing her tiny bicep. “Got a pen?”
“Don’t you think I deserve a souvenir of the Big House?” She sat down on the floor cross-legged, as close to the bars as she could get. He sighed and joined her. It was the only way he could reach her properly.
He drew out the pen he had in his jacket pocket and took her arm in his hand. He could just about fit his thumb to his middle finger all the way around it. “What do you want, V? ‘I Heart Weevil’? Skull and crossbones? Wait, let me guess...The Chinese symbol for ‘sexy’?”
“Surprise me, Mr. Navarro,” she rolled her eyes, looking over her other shoulder, not even concerned that he really might tag ‘I Heart Weevil’ in big bold letters.
“‘Kay, V, I’ll surprise you,” he said, as he began to concentrate on his design. God knew she always surprised him.