Veronica Mars. Veronica Mars/Lilly Kane. 024. Family.
Title: Family
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Pairing: Veronica/Lilly
Prompt: 024 Family
Rating: G
Word Count: ~200
Notes: I wrote this back in April. It's for Nell because she expressed a want for fic. Just a little thing.
You’re not sure why you say it.
You’re lying on her bed, the two of you, and your head’s somewhere around her neckshoulderchestarm your hand playing idly with her teeshirt, occasionally running a finger along the strip of lightly tanned skin, with fine little blonde hairs that you can just see shining in this light. She’s doing - something, and you’re not sure what, but she’s only half paying attention to you as she fiddles, plays with something that from this angle you can’t quite see, and you’re too comfortable to want to move. After all, it’s not like you want to know all that badly.
Her chest is rising and falling and you’re both pretty drowsy with some 90s soft rock playing that’s not quite pop. With the blinds half closed, the light falls in shafts across the both of you and the dust dances in the air.
“You’ll be gorgeous when you’re pregnant.”
She stops breathing for a few seconds, then nuzzles your hair, presses a kiss to the top of your head. With a laugh in her voice, she tells you, “Shut up, Veronica.”
It’s almost a whisper, and you feel it more than you hear it. “I love you.”
Little Damn Table.
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Pairing: Veronica/Lilly
Prompt: 024 Family
Rating: G
Word Count: ~200
Notes: I wrote this back in April. It's for Nell because she expressed a want for fic. Just a little thing.
You’re not sure why you say it.
You’re lying on her bed, the two of you, and your head’s somewhere around her neckshoulderchestarm your hand playing idly with her teeshirt, occasionally running a finger along the strip of lightly tanned skin, with fine little blonde hairs that you can just see shining in this light. She’s doing - something, and you’re not sure what, but she’s only half paying attention to you as she fiddles, plays with something that from this angle you can’t quite see, and you’re too comfortable to want to move. After all, it’s not like you want to know all that badly.
Her chest is rising and falling and you’re both pretty drowsy with some 90s soft rock playing that’s not quite pop. With the blinds half closed, the light falls in shafts across the both of you and the dust dances in the air.
“You’ll be gorgeous when you’re pregnant.”
She stops breathing for a few seconds, then nuzzles your hair, presses a kiss to the top of your head. With a laugh in her voice, she tells you, “Shut up, Veronica.”
It’s almost a whisper, and you feel it more than you hear it. “I love you.”
Little Damn Table.