Fandom: Veronica Mars
Characters: Lamb, Veronica
Prompt: #7: Days
Word Count: 750
Author's Notes: A continuation of Any Of Our Current Animosity, A Different Kind Of History, and Putting It Out There. A bit of an AU, where Veronica and Lamb wind up working together.
One of these days, Lamb thought, he was going to stop being surprised at Veronica Mars turning up unannounced on his doorstep.
“I brought pizza,” she announced cheerfully, pushing past him and depositing it on the coffee table. She dropped her bag by the futon and continued through to the kitchen, collecting plates and napkins and grabbing sodas out of the fridge like she owned the place, or something. He just shrugged and took a seat, opening up the pizza box and accepting a can of generic root beer from her outstretched hand.
“So what, you figure if you distract me with food, I won’t notice your deplorable lack of manners?”
“Why no, Deputy,” she said, all wide-eyed innocence and syrupy-sweet tone. “I just always heard the way to man’s heart was through his stomach. Of course, I guess it helps if the man in question has a heart.”
“Ouch,” Lamb said, wincing around a mouthful of pepperoni and extra cheese.
“Sorry. I’ve been having kind of a bad week.”
“What, Keith’s been sending you on wild goose chases, too?” Lamb sniped. She shot him a quizzical look.
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, nevermind,” he sighed, cracking open his soda. “So, what’s your problem? Flunk a trig test? Break a nail?”
“Oh, nothing as serious as all that,” she assured him. “It’s just … I’m starting to think my boyfriend is still hung up on his ex-girlfriend, who’s in a coma. I’d dismiss it as garden-variety teenage girl paranoia, only, he tends to have a thing for unconscious girls, and don’t ask me to explain that remark, because I’m not going to.”
“Sounds very … soap-operatic.”
She rolled her eyes.
“That’s not even the worst part. I mean, I’m the last person to be judging someone else for having residual feelings for an ex. But I feel like there’s something more to the story, and I had a chance this morning to find out some information about their relationship, only … I couldn’t go through with it.”
“Veronica Mars, minding her own business. That explains the flying monkeys I saw his afternoon,” he mused. She kicked him hard in the shin.
“My problem,” she continued, “is that I don’t know why I’m minding my own business. I can’t figure out if it’s because I know there are things that I don’t need to be privy to, or if it’s just because I’m afraid of what I might find out. And if it’s the first thing, then, yay, maturity. But if it’s the second thing, then I’m really no better than everyone else in this town who turns a blind eye to the truth in order to make their own lives easier. I mean, no offense.”
“Well, I probably wouldn’t have been offended until you threw that last comment in there,” he grumbled.
She smiled at him beatifically.
“Yeah, I did that on purpose, in case you missed the subtext.”
“So what? Do you want advice, or something?”
“No,” she shook her head and reached for another slice of pizza. “I think I just wanted to get it all off my chest.”
“It seems to have worked. You are looking rather … unencumbered in your chest area,” he smirked.
“My apologies, Deputy. Next time, I come over, I’ll be sure to wear a push-up bra.”
“Look, I’m sure you don’t have anything to be worried about. I mean, what, is he going to take this coma chick out for a night on the town? Please, dinner and dancing are right out, and the conversation would probably leave something to be desired. Plus, if it makes you feel any better? I don’t think you’re afraid.”
“If you were afraid, I think you’d go ahead and dig up all the secrets you could find,” he continued. “That way, you’d have an excuse to cut and run. You’re choosing to trust someone, without all the available information at hand. That’s pretty ballsy.”
“Oh my god …” she groaned. “You’ve been watching way too much Dr. Phil.”
“Hey, you come over for girl talk, I’m going to do my best to oblige, and channel my inner chick, or whatever,” Lamb protested.
“If you were really channeling your inner chick, you’d keep ice cream in the house,” she informed him, shutting the pizza box. He grinned at her.
“There’s mint chocolate chip in the freezer,” he told her, and she was on her feet in a moment, rummaging in the kitchen for spoons.