Title: "I Only Have Eyes for Ewe"
Author: monimala
Fandom: VM
Rating/Classification: Veronica, Lamb, Vinnie, gen, adult language, badfic.
Disclaimer: It's really a good thing they belong to Rob Thomas and the gang.
Summary: This is all Shealynn88's fault. I can't even explain it. Suffice it to say, this is the most scarring night of Veronica Mars' life. Forget being locked in a fridge by Aaron Echolls.
Note: No actual sheep were harmed in the creation of this story.
On the drive over to the Camelot, she had prepared herself for any number of horrific sights. Possibilities 1 through 46 in the "Hell Has Frozen Over" handbook. What greeted her instead was something that even a page in the Kama Sutra couldn't explain.
Vinnie Vanlowe, Don Lamb, and a plastic blow-up sheep. Stark naked.
Well, to be fair, the sheep sort of came that way, being washable vinyl and all, and Lamb was actually wearing a flowery bonnet.
But other than that...naked.
Oh my. Wow.
"You know...I think I saw this in a movie--" she tried to quip but had to stop short. "Nope. Nope, haven't even seen this in a movie, but GOD, I wish I hadn't left my camera at home."
Vinnie struggled against the handcuffs that had him secured to the end table...or the sheep...or possibly both. His cell phone, she could see, was hanging preciously on the edge. He must've dialed it with his teeth. That took talent.
"Veronica, just get us OUT of this," he pleaded.
Lamb, she noted, was uncharacteristically silent. And bright red. All over. The blush went with the bonnet, which was a lovely shade of pink. She couldn't blame him for keeping the speech to himself. What was he going to say? "This isn't what it looks like"? It was *totally* what it looked like.
And *then* some.
"You do realize that I *own* you guys now, right?" she wondered, as she demurely kept her eyes on the first set of handcuffs securing Vinnie to the end table.
"Veronica..." Vinnie stuttered, trying to close his legs and somewhat hide what...couldn't really be hidden. There was no doubt about it, the Lord had blessed the man below the waist for what he was obviously lacking between his ears. "Seriously...it was all Tallulah!"
Tallulah? She shuddered, sliding a medium-sized pick out of her case and getting to work. "What you do with your plastic sheep in the privacy of your sleazy motel room is your affair. And my leverage," she added, in case either man had missed that memo in the middle of the excruciating embarrassment.
"Tallulah's not the sheep." And, lo, the Lamb speaketh -- albeit through gritted teeth. "Tallulah's a stripper Vanlowe here hired. She robbed us blind."
"Well, that's a relief. Because I think the sheep is male." She craned her neck to make sure. Yep. It was anatomically correct. And she was scarred for life. Why couldn't *she* be blind?
It was hard...er...bad choice of words...*difficult* to take Lamb seriously when he looked like Little Bo Peep at a nudist convention.
"Boys, I really don't need to know the details," she assured. Less than twenty-five seconds and then she was rewarded with the click of the lock mechanism and the cuffs springing open around Vinnie's frantically flexing hands.
She rose, stumbled backwards, turning away so he could...uh...disengage from his little inflatable friend. Assorted pieces of clothing were scattered all over the dingy double room. She picked out a Hawaiian shirt and tossed it, along with boxers with naked ladies on them, in the general direction of the live action Mapplethorpe snapshot.
"What about me? Still stuck here."
This was true. Tallulah the ever-so inventive exotic dancer had locked Lamb's arms around Vinnie's torso, cuffing his hands in front of the sheep so they looked like they were playing leap frog...or re-enacting a scene from Queer as Folk.
"I don't know...I was thinking of leaving you that way. That bonnet is awfully fetching."
Lamb's reply was unfit for human ears and largely unprintable. He even came up with a few phrases she'd never heard before.
"V...leaving him that way means leaving him *on me*," Vinnie pointed out from beneath the folds of his shirt. "And I gotta tell you...it ain't my idea of a good time."
"No, your idea was apparently Tallulah. And look where that got you," she chided. Only a situation like this could turn her, of all people, into the morality police. Then again, what was her choice considering that the actual police was right there in all his bare-bottomed glory?
She had to slide beneath the men to get a good fix on Lamb's bonds. Sure, seeing Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal in Brokeback Mountain was all kinds of hot. But being this up close and personal with guy-on-guy action was something Veronica was wholly unprepared for. She found it hard (difficult!) to remain clinical as she went to work on the second set of cuffs. If Vinnie was unduly blessed with a not-so-average shepherd's crook, then it went without saying that there was nothing "little" about Bo Peep either.
They certainly DID grow 'em big in Texas.
"Hurry it up," Lamb hissed.
"Do you think I'm taking my sweet time on purpose?" Please.
They probably both had rug burn. And stiff knees. Which was nothing compared to the fanta--er, nightmares...she was going to have when this night was over.
"Why did you call me anyway?" she asked, trying not to study the plethora of man parts above her too closely.
"I still had your number on speed dial from our...uh...recent association," Vinnie confessed. "And I figured you owed me one."
"I knew it!" Lamb exclaimed, immediately. "You helped her get Duncan Kane out of the country, didn't you? Ha!"
Men. They were so predictable. "Technically, so did you, Don," she reminded, sweetly, as she was gifted with another click and she quickly rolled away from all the TMI.
Finally freed, the sheriff and Vinnie sprang apart and hit opposing corners of the room so fast that it made her hum a few bars of "One Minute Man." The vinyl sheep lay, forlorn and forgotten, on the carpet as Vinnie slammed into the bathroom and began to piss very loudly, punctuated with "ohhh, thank God"s and "this feels great!"
Listening to Vinnie Vanlowe's bodily functions had definitely not been in the "Hell Has Frozen Over" handbook.
"So, uh...how about them Padres?" she asked, lamely, as Lamb snatched up a pair of blue boxer briefs and a grey pullover.
"If you tell anyone about this, I swear to God, I will fucking kill you." The threats were muffled as he yanked his shirt over his head.
"R-really? Because I was going to write a tell-all book: 'Don't Stand Too Close to a Naked Sheriff.'" He still had the hat on. No, bonnet. It was a bonnet. She couldn't help it. The absurdity finally found its foothold and she doubled over, laughing hysterically. "Almost...naked, I mean..."
"You think this is funny?" The blush of humiliation he'd had was quickly turning into a more crimson hue of rage. "This is hilarious, right?" Lamb stalked across the room, still just in his shirt and shorts. He yanked off the pink flowery bonnet, shaking it at her.
"Uh huh." She wiped away tears of helpless mirth. "Hat." She pointed. And then she glanced over at Tallulah's cute little prop. "Sheep!" She could only seem to manage single syllable words. Maybe she could find a therapist who charged by the sentence instead of the hour?
"What will it take to keep you quiet about this?" he demanded.
"Might I suggest a ball gag?" Vinnie emerged from the bathroom, looking...relieved.
"You've...suggested...quite enough," Veronica assured, trying to get a hold of herself, wheezing for air.
She was so busy laughing that she didn't notice the men trading a look over her head.
Not until it was too late.
Two fully grown men with the element of surprise on their side were too much, even for someone with her stellar skill set.
"Hey! Hey, let me go!"
"No way in Hell!"
"We can't risk it, V-Dog. Sorry, Babe."
And before she knew it, she was secured to the headboard with two sets of cuffs and a flowery hat on her head.
They put the sheep in her lap. It looked at her with big, mournful, black eyes that didn't inspire any kinky thoughts at all. Just an urge to call PETA.
And her Sidekick...Lamb obligingly tucked it into her cleavage. Well, what there *was* of her cleavage.
And he hit her second speed dial option for her.
What a mensch.
He probably knew the first one was Keith.
As the number dialed, the boys got their things together and fled.
Lamb stopped in the doorway for just an instant. To glance back at her and grin. "That bonnet is awfully fetching on you."
And then...
"Uh, Wallace..,? I need your help."
"What's up, Veronica? You in trouble again?"
"Uh huh. Baaaa-d trouble."
--end--
January 30, 2006.