Title: "Meet Kettle"
Author: monimala
Fandom: VM
Character/Pairing: Veronica, Lamb (not V/Lamb)
Rating: NAC
Word Count: 700
Disclaimer: These are still not my characters. Darn!
Summary: Lamb and Veronica have done this before.
Spoilers/Warnings: Takes place between episode 3.13, "Postgame Mortem," and 3.14, "Mars, Bars." Humor, ep filler.
They've done this before: the slow motion Walk of Shame as Lamb parades her through a crowd of her classmates and balloons with ego like some kind of demented khaki wearing puffer fish. Sure, it's been a few years, but the feeling of embarrassment is still the same. Not to mention the affront to her compassionate sensibilities. What kind of world is it if a gal can't bake some cookies and provide prisoners with inspirational Dumas anymore? Not one she wants to live in, that's for sure.
"You just had to arrest me in the middle of my criminal profiling class, didn't you?" she grumbles as Lamb nudges her into the back of his cruiser with a none-too-gentle ducking of her head.
He waits till he's buckled in, with the cage safely between them, to reply. Probably because it takes him that long to think of something even remotely intelligent. "I believe that's what they call 'irony,' Mars."
"Aww, you *have* been using that Word A Day calendar I got you for Christmas! But you must've skipped the pages for 'tact' and 'decency.'"
"I like public spectacles. High school graduations, lecture classes, the occasional Kiwanis meeting. It keeps my blood pumping."
As opposed to her blood, which is positively slowing to a crawl thanks to the tightness of the handcuffs. "What's next?" she wonders, trying to work the feeling back into her wrists, "Funeral? Wedding?"
"Only if you're marrying that idiot boyfriend of yours. That's a crime against humanity right there."
When she remains conspicuously silent instead of countering with a stunning verbal parry, he catches her gaze in the rearview and grins. "Broke up, did you?"
She tactfully, decently, chooses not to answer. Because, hi, open wound with no sign of scabbing. "Isn't you calling somebody an idiot a little black, Mr. Pot?"
His eyes widen. "Now you're making racial references? I'm disappointed in you, Veronica."
She shouldn't laugh. She really shouldn't. But she does; the automatic charge she gets from these exchanges is irresistible. "You're catching up. I've been disappointed in *you* for years."
"That implies you actually had standards for me once. I'm touched." He's driving at a snail's pace. If she didn't know better, she'd think he's trying to prolong the drive back to the courthouse, trying to spend as much time with her as possible. Or maybe he just can't banter and operate a car at the same time. "And speaking of being touched, if you hit me, maybe I can charge you with a hate crime?"
"Did you sleep through the part of your academy training where assaulting a police officer is an automatic felony?"
"Why, thank you, Veronica, I'll charge you with that, too."
Veronica rolls her eyes for what must be the fortieth time in ten minutes. Quite possibly her all time high. "I haven't assaulted you yet, which speaks to my amazing self control."
"Just imagine, if you'd exercised some of it with Josh Barry, you wouldn't be stuck in traffic with me."
She debates pointing out that there aren't any other cars on the road and even if there were, he could turn on those loud blue and red thingies on the roof and speed past them. But there's probably going to be a lot of opportunity to mock Lamb's stupidity today and she needs to shoot for endurance, not speed.
Unfortunately, he takes her lack of comment as a sign that he should continue talking. And that's never good. She can practically feel his triumphant smirk oozing through the barricade as he chuckles, "Oh, so you *like* being stuck with me."
"I'm not the one driving 35 miles an hour on the highway," she snorts, leveling a kick to the back of his seat. "Speed it up or say you love me, Andretti."
She's not surprised when he hits the gas and she bounces sideways against the window. He matches her halfhearted "Ow!" with a less than sincere "Sorry!" and actually shuts up for four whole exits as they approach Neptune.
He steals glances. She scowls theatrically.
They've done this before.
She has no doubt they'll do it again.
What kind of world is it if they don't?
--end--
February 14, 2007.