Title: "Catch Her in the Rye"
Author: monimala
Fandom: VM
Rating/Classification: AC for language and sexual content, episode filler, AU, V/Lamb.
Disclaimer: Much to my dismay, I still don't own them!
Summary: A fairly plotless and very AU ep filler for 2.2, "Driver Ed." "Seriously. Why *do* birds suddenly appear every time you're near?" 1105 words.
"Seriously. Why *do* birds suddenly appear every time you're near?" she asks, with that obnoxious little catch in her voice as he hustles her out the door.
And that's all it takes to make him stop stock-still. He calls it the "fuck me" catch. Invented, perfected, and used generously by the one and, thank God, the only Veronica Mars. It's a pause, a gasp, an inflection, and a dare. It makes him pinion her arms behind her and haul her right back into the interrogation room where she'd been so diligently *not* filling out a job application.
She doesn't fight him. Instead, she helpfully kicks the door shut so he can haul her around and spread her flat against it. She grins up at him, all fake innocence and doe eyes as he growls, "What were you *really* doing here, Mars?"
"Would it be cliché to say 'that's for me to know and you to find out'…?"
"Yeah, but that's never stopped you before."
"In that case, it's for me to know and you to--"
"Shut up."
Her messenger bag is caught between their bodies. He could search it, but instead he goes into her back pocket. "Why, Deputy, I didn't know you cared," she gasps, like a 09-er princess with fluff between the ears. He drags his palm back up the curve of her ass slowly; he takes out the piece of paper she probably stashed a few seconds before he walked in.
Her handwriting is crisp, precise. "Nice penmanship," he notes. Phone records. Procured on the company dime. Also nice. And also illegal.
"Give that back," she hisses, the line of her jaw hard and sharp.
"What's it worth to you?" he wonders, with a pause, a gasp, an inflection, and a dare.
He's learned it well. He doesn't use it as liberally as she does, but it serves its purpose.
Her hand curls around his neck. She opens her mouth -- he has nightmares about this mouth -- and doesn't even finish singing something about the starlight in his "eyes of blue" before they're kissing. In fact, she tries to *keep* singing but he swallows the notes and delves his tongue deep into her mouth, where Karen Carpenter has no power.
He lifts her up and she shrugs her bag from her shoulder. It hits the floor as she locks her legs around his waist and rubs against him in slow, sexy, excruciating circles.
It's always like this. "Fuck me," and he does. Unbuckling, unzipping, ripping and covering and sliding. He lowers her to the table, grasping her hips to keep her anchored as he finds just the right angle, just the right spot, to make her pant "Don, Don, Don," in time with her foot drumming against the back of his thigh. "Dammit, Mars," he groans as her precious phone records flutter, momentarily forgotten, to the floor.
He doesn't even completely remember the first time. Weeks ago. Months. She was still seeing the Echolls boy and since he was cooling his heels in lock-up courtesy of the county and one Felix Toombs, she practically haunted the halls herself.
He'd caught her crying into one of Inga's favorite ferns, shaking off a flashback of Junior's dad locking her in that freezer and prepping the Veronica flambé. "Shut up," she'd snapped before he could say anything. "Just *shut* up."
He'd herded her into his office, shoving her into a chair while he rummaged for tissues and said half-assed things like, "it's okay," and "it's over."
"You're being nice. Why are you being nice?"
"It's a Tuesday."
He doesn't remember what came next. How they got from days of the week and sniffles to him clearing off his desk and fucking her on it. But he did and she was so soft and so wet and so tight. Practically a virgin. And by the time he asked and she cried out to confirm that, yeah, he was going somewhere that Logan Echolls hadn't gone yet, it was too late -- he was coming inside her like she was a high-priced call girl with a secret bag of tricks and she was patenting his downfall.
Even though she'd left his office with a smug smile and a spring in her step, Sacks had glared at him for days. Like he'd beaten her or bruised her behind his locked door. Technically, he had because the flat surfaces they pick aren't exactly easy on her.
And now this is what they do.
Embrace insanity even when she's not watering the office plants with her misery.
He leans over her, licking her jaw, biting her bottom lip, as he pulls all the way out, teases her clit with the head of his cock before thrusting all the way back in. "Oh…oh my *God*," she gasps as he does it again and again…until she's clenching around him and shaking and going limp.
She stares up at him with those incredible, glazed-over eyes, mouth hanging open in passionate surprise and he loves that. He may not be smarter than her but he's got things he can teach her, things he *does* teach her, every time. How to please him. How to please herself.
And how to make a trade.
"Thank you," she whispers, when he pulls away and picks up her paper and hands it back to her without asking why she needs the information.
"You're welcome," he says against his brow, kissing the bridge of her nose and her eyelids and her lips, one last, lingering time.
"You're being nice again," she warns, quietly, taming her hair and straightening her clothes as he makes sure the condom is camouflaged in the trash before he ties off the bag.
"If this is the definition of 'nice' to you, Mars, you're seriously warped."
"Did we really ever doubt that?" she wonders, irreverently.
He wants to touch her again and that's just too damn sentimental for him to deal with, so he curls his hands safely around his belt and smirks at her as she picks up her bag -- eliciting a suspicious, "What?"
"At least we know why the birds appear."
"Because you're a worm?"
"Funny."
"Well, *I* certainly thought so."
And there it is again.
The pause, the gasp, the inflection, and the dare.
He escorts Veronica all the way to the parking lot with a hand, light and professional, at the base of her spine.
And then he tails her at a discreet distance all the way to the Camelot.
It's always like this. "Fuck me," and he does.
All the while knowing that he's the one getting screwed.
--end--
May 24, 2006.