[fic] polish it 'til it shines; veronica mars, leo/veronica; pg13
polish it 'til it shines, pg13
veronica mars, leo/veronica; 1184
Here's the thing about the past.
It always comes back to haunt you.
Veronica Mars has been back in Neptune for a mere two weeks and she is slowly learning this fact. And, truth be told, it's not exactly an unfamiliar lesson to her. But as most people will tell you, Miss Mars was never much of a quick study in ye olde school of life.
The woman at the impound lot has got this stoney expression that never changes, not even when she talks. Veronica's sure she must have been hired for that very reason.
"Look," Veronica examines her name tag. "Lois. What's so hard to understand? I don't have a copy of my registration. I left it in my glove box. If you would kindly take me to my vehicle, I can then show. It. To. You." She announces these last words as slowly as she can muster.
"Mrs. Bankfield," the woman sighs. "As I've told you before, you'll have to wait until lot security comes back from their lunch break."
Veronica knows. And therein lies the problem. Both guards were a grade below her in high school and they will undoubtedly recognize her face in an instant.
"Veronica Mars!" She hears a voice from behind her.
Damn.
She does her level best to ignore it. "Thank you very much ma'am." It's time to get out of dodge. "I'll just have to come back later."
"Veronica, is that you?" The voice persists.
"I think the officer is talking to you," Lois tells her, suspicion in her voice.
Great. Veronica closes her eyes, exhales, turns. Leo D'Amato, dressed in a familiar brown uniform, is standing not two feet from her.
She looks back at Lois. "Never seen this man before in my life," she lies, one of her many talents, and starts walking towards her car. "I'll be back!" she calls to Lois, pretending not to notice the bemused expression on Leo's face.
She won't be back.
-
At her car, the one she parked two blocks down, she can hear Leo's footsteps behind her.
"That's no way to greet and old friend," he tells her. "Your father said you'd be back in town. He didn't say so soon."
"Not back, just working," she says, tosses her keys into the front seat and turns to him. She points a finger, pokes him in the shoulder. "And for your information, you, almost blew my cover back there."
"Well I guess I have to make it up to you then," he says with a smile. Veronica notices that he's standing far too close for casual conversation, and wouldn't you know it, Leo's still got that old charm. "Dinner tonight?"
Veronica thinks she probably shouldn't, which isn't all that much of a deterrent.
She smiles back.
"Okay."
-
They have dinner at one of those family style Italian restaurants and Veronica teases him for just how predictable he is when he chooses the place. Leo listens to her tell him about the case she's on, in the vaguest of terms, listens to her tell him what she's been up to the past few years, even though she's sure he's heard everything from her father already. He tells her about his failed attempt at taking classes in art school, how it wasn't for him, how he was just about to quit the force when her father was re-elected as Sheriff. He doesn't ask her about Logan or any of the others, and she doesn't ask him about his love life either. She's heard plenty of that from her father as well, something about a cheating fiancee, a bad crash, and picking himself back up.
"You look thinner," she tells him, knows a thing or two about forgetting to take care of yourself.
"It's all the yoga," he says, cracks a smile.
"Oh, sure," she laughs. "Yoga."
She knows she doesn't have to worry about Leo. No, he seems good, happy even. He seems like the same person she used to know.
It's refreshing.
Comforting.
-
After they eat, they walk the streets in the setting sun, find a quiet bar to share some drinks, and at every stop Veronica runs into someone she used to know.
"You're like a celebrity around here," he tells her, takes a last swig of his beer.
She grins, laughs, sets down her wine glass. "As opposed to all the real celebrities here?"
"Well aside from them, yeah," he teases.
-
She's not surprised at all when they end up back at his house. She's wrapped around him and kicking the front door closed with her foot and he's trying to balance as he carries her down the hall.
"Ow!" she yelps when her head hits the frame of his bedroom door.
"Sorry, sorry!" Leo halts and Veronica hops down to the floor. He cups her chin in one hand, places the other at her neck. "Is your head okay?"
"Only in the physical sense," she tells him, presses lips to his. "But you should probably keep me awake, just in case I have a concussion."
"Not my smoothest move," he says between kisses, his hands falling to her shoulders sliding down to tug at the fabric of her shirt and pull it over her head. The backs of Veronica's legs hit the bed and they go tumbling backwards.
She laughs, a good, open, clean laugh, a kind she hasn't in a while.
"You done?" Leo says in mock seriousness.
Veronica straightens her face, reaches for him, tugs his t-shirt over his head.
"No," she tells him, her hands reaching for the top button of his jeans. "Not even close."
-
"You didn't come home last night." Keith Mars is standing in the kitchen making pancakes when Veronica emerges from her room, a t-shirt and a pair of long pajama pants. He flips one, catching it successfully at the end of his spatula. He lets out a celebratory laugh, looks to her for approval.
"You noticed that, did you, Sheriff Mars?" She climbs onto one of the bar stools at the counter, slides a plate of the hot cakes in front of her.
"Come on, Veronica," he teases, pouring more batter into the skillet. "I notice everything. You know that."
This kitchen is far bigger than the one housed in the small apartment they once shared. But it's filled with his little touches and his cooking smells just the way she remembers it, and she is all at once transported back to those days. "How could I forget," she says, and the words mean more than he knows.
"You want shapes?" he says. "I could do Christmas trees."
"It's the middle of April," she tells him.
"So?" he asks. "What's your point?"
Veronica laughs.
It's a good, clean, open laugh.
-
They say that you can never go home again. And Veronica supposes that in a strictly metaphorical sense, that's all too true. But in other ways? In other ways, that notion couldn't be more than false. Sure, nothing really stays quite the same.
But some things?
Well, some things never change.
-fin
veronica mars, leo/veronica; 1184
Here's the thing about the past.
It always comes back to haunt you.
Veronica Mars has been back in Neptune for a mere two weeks and she is slowly learning this fact. And, truth be told, it's not exactly an unfamiliar lesson to her. But as most people will tell you, Miss Mars was never much of a quick study in ye olde school of life.
The woman at the impound lot has got this stoney expression that never changes, not even when she talks. Veronica's sure she must have been hired for that very reason.
"Look," Veronica examines her name tag. "Lois. What's so hard to understand? I don't have a copy of my registration. I left it in my glove box. If you would kindly take me to my vehicle, I can then show. It. To. You." She announces these last words as slowly as she can muster.
"Mrs. Bankfield," the woman sighs. "As I've told you before, you'll have to wait until lot security comes back from their lunch break."
Veronica knows. And therein lies the problem. Both guards were a grade below her in high school and they will undoubtedly recognize her face in an instant.
"Veronica Mars!" She hears a voice from behind her.
Damn.
She does her level best to ignore it. "Thank you very much ma'am." It's time to get out of dodge. "I'll just have to come back later."
"Veronica, is that you?" The voice persists.
"I think the officer is talking to you," Lois tells her, suspicion in her voice.
Great. Veronica closes her eyes, exhales, turns. Leo D'Amato, dressed in a familiar brown uniform, is standing not two feet from her.
She looks back at Lois. "Never seen this man before in my life," she lies, one of her many talents, and starts walking towards her car. "I'll be back!" she calls to Lois, pretending not to notice the bemused expression on Leo's face.
She won't be back.
-
At her car, the one she parked two blocks down, she can hear Leo's footsteps behind her.
"That's no way to greet and old friend," he tells her. "Your father said you'd be back in town. He didn't say so soon."
"Not back, just working," she says, tosses her keys into the front seat and turns to him. She points a finger, pokes him in the shoulder. "And for your information, you, almost blew my cover back there."
"Well I guess I have to make it up to you then," he says with a smile. Veronica notices that he's standing far too close for casual conversation, and wouldn't you know it, Leo's still got that old charm. "Dinner tonight?"
Veronica thinks she probably shouldn't, which isn't all that much of a deterrent.
She smiles back.
"Okay."
-
They have dinner at one of those family style Italian restaurants and Veronica teases him for just how predictable he is when he chooses the place. Leo listens to her tell him about the case she's on, in the vaguest of terms, listens to her tell him what she's been up to the past few years, even though she's sure he's heard everything from her father already. He tells her about his failed attempt at taking classes in art school, how it wasn't for him, how he was just about to quit the force when her father was re-elected as Sheriff. He doesn't ask her about Logan or any of the others, and she doesn't ask him about his love life either. She's heard plenty of that from her father as well, something about a cheating fiancee, a bad crash, and picking himself back up.
"You look thinner," she tells him, knows a thing or two about forgetting to take care of yourself.
"It's all the yoga," he says, cracks a smile.
"Oh, sure," she laughs. "Yoga."
She knows she doesn't have to worry about Leo. No, he seems good, happy even. He seems like the same person she used to know.
It's refreshing.
Comforting.
-
After they eat, they walk the streets in the setting sun, find a quiet bar to share some drinks, and at every stop Veronica runs into someone she used to know.
"You're like a celebrity around here," he tells her, takes a last swig of his beer.
She grins, laughs, sets down her wine glass. "As opposed to all the real celebrities here?"
"Well aside from them, yeah," he teases.
-
She's not surprised at all when they end up back at his house. She's wrapped around him and kicking the front door closed with her foot and he's trying to balance as he carries her down the hall.
"Ow!" she yelps when her head hits the frame of his bedroom door.
"Sorry, sorry!" Leo halts and Veronica hops down to the floor. He cups her chin in one hand, places the other at her neck. "Is your head okay?"
"Only in the physical sense," she tells him, presses lips to his. "But you should probably keep me awake, just in case I have a concussion."
"Not my smoothest move," he says between kisses, his hands falling to her shoulders sliding down to tug at the fabric of her shirt and pull it over her head. The backs of Veronica's legs hit the bed and they go tumbling backwards.
She laughs, a good, open, clean laugh, a kind she hasn't in a while.
"You done?" Leo says in mock seriousness.
Veronica straightens her face, reaches for him, tugs his t-shirt over his head.
"No," she tells him, her hands reaching for the top button of his jeans. "Not even close."
-
"You didn't come home last night." Keith Mars is standing in the kitchen making pancakes when Veronica emerges from her room, a t-shirt and a pair of long pajama pants. He flips one, catching it successfully at the end of his spatula. He lets out a celebratory laugh, looks to her for approval.
"You noticed that, did you, Sheriff Mars?" She climbs onto one of the bar stools at the counter, slides a plate of the hot cakes in front of her.
"Come on, Veronica," he teases, pouring more batter into the skillet. "I notice everything. You know that."
This kitchen is far bigger than the one housed in the small apartment they once shared. But it's filled with his little touches and his cooking smells just the way she remembers it, and she is all at once transported back to those days. "How could I forget," she says, and the words mean more than he knows.
"You want shapes?" he says. "I could do Christmas trees."
"It's the middle of April," she tells him.
"So?" he asks. "What's your point?"
Veronica laughs.
It's a good, clean, open laugh.
-
They say that you can never go home again. And Veronica supposes that in a strictly metaphorical sense, that's all too true. But in other ways? In other ways, that notion couldn't be more than false. Sure, nothing really stays quite the same.
But some things?
Well, some things never change.
-fin