Fic: White Dresses and Dead People 3/4; (Lamb/Veronica); R
Title: White Dresses and Dead People (3/4)
Author: danniisupernova
Pairing: Lamb/Veronica, mentions of Wallace, Keith, Logan
Summery: Veronica's cracking.
Spoilers: 3x14
Word Count: 700(ish)
Warnings: Sexuality, language, graphic images
Disclaimer: I don't own VM. Are you shocked???
A/N: Credit to meimei42 for the phrase "the indestructable Veronica Mars". It's the title of one of her fics. Link text and cut text are from "Something to Do With My Hands" by Her Space Holiday. This chapter is inspired by that song.
Forget all those places that you've never really been
And all those situations you somehow found yourself in'>
running water over the dishes. Veronica carefully scrubs a plate. The remnants won't come off. They stick there, no matter how hard she scrubs. The water flows over her hands and the dishes, making her smile, making her calm.
She feels a hand snake up her side. It grabs her shoulder and whirls her around. She's staring up into Lamb's face. He grabs the back of her neck and kisses her roughly. She yanks him closer, watching the door as he picks her up, sitting her on the kitchen counter, spreading her legs. He pulls the shirt over her head and shoves the jeans off of her legs. And Veronica wants this but she still watches the door, afraid that her father will walk in or that Logan will walk in or even Wallace, because then they'll see her like this and if her eyes aren't open they'll know that she wants this, has been wanting it and hiding it from them. And they'll think that she's disgusting, that she has no self respect, for wanting it like this. She wishes Lamb would say something boneheaded about how he knew this was how she liked it or ask her if he's doing it right, but he doesn't and she hates him even more for knowing her that well.
And as he's fucking her up against the kitchen cupboards so unceremoniously, his hands on her breasts and his mouth on her neck, she wishes they would come and see her like this so she wouldn't have to pretend anymore, pretend that she's so goddamn tough, so squeaky clean, denying herself all the time. Her hand is on the back of his head and it's wet, but not like water and she could feel chips of his skull moving under his scalp and she remembers that Lamb is dead and that she can never have this, no matter how badly she wants it and he looks at her again and asks if she can smell bread and
*****
Her eyes fly open. There is a dull throb in her left ear. In fact that whole side of her head feels like one big bruise. Her head's leaning on the window. She thinks 'I must've hit it against there when...'
She looks out the windshield. An old Chevy pick up is crunched into the front-right side of her Saturn.
"Oh shit," she whispers. She brings her hand to her forhead. It comes away red. She see's something is written on her palm. It's in Lamb's hand writting. She recognizes it from many signed lunch reciepts.
"Madison is a blonde"
'Well what the hell does that mean? I know she's a blonde,' Veronica thinks. 'Not even a natural one. I remember when someone thought I was her in the hall with a new haircut-'
She begins to process this. Everything suddenly seems too sharp and bright.
There is a flurry of knocks on her window. She starts. There is a young white man standing outside. All of the anger in his face disappears when he sees her face.
"Oh my God!"
Veronica looks at her face in the mirror. She has a huge gash at her hairline.
"Please," she says weakly, "please: take me to the hospital."
*****
They've stitched up the side of her face, exactly seven stitches long. They give her pain pills and send her home. She declines the ride from Rick, the man with the junked truck. He's left and it's dark now.
She walks the five miles home. Or tries to. She finds herself in a park, nestled in the 90909 area code, supposedly far away from the murderers and rapists that plague the other side of town. The smell of the grass is sweet to her and reminds her of summer nights as a little kid. For the first time in almost two weeks she feels like she can finally sleep. But she can't. God knows who might wake her up. Or how.
"You can sleep. I'll be here the whole time."
Lamb lays down next to her. He whispers in her ear and it's like she can feel him all around her. Her eyelids get heavy.
She could swear she feels his head against her back. But that's impossible because he's dead. And she thinks it's starting to fade and she gets desperate, Veronica Mars, of all people gets desperate for a second.
"Don't go."
"Is the indestructable Veronica Mars asking me a favor?"
"Asshole."
She could swear he's holding her, but who can say, for God's sake she thinks she might be in love with a dead guy but that doesn't seem like such a huge obstacle after all she
Author: danniisupernova
Pairing: Lamb/Veronica, mentions of Wallace, Keith, Logan
Summery: Veronica's cracking.
Spoilers: 3x14
Word Count: 700(ish)
Warnings: Sexuality, language, graphic images
Disclaimer: I don't own VM. Are you shocked???
A/N: Credit to meimei42 for the phrase "the indestructable Veronica Mars". It's the title of one of her fics. Link text and cut text are from "Something to Do With My Hands" by Her Space Holiday. This chapter is inspired by that song.
Forget all those places that you've never really been
And all those situations you somehow found yourself in'>
running water over the dishes. Veronica carefully scrubs a plate. The remnants won't come off. They stick there, no matter how hard she scrubs. The water flows over her hands and the dishes, making her smile, making her calm.
She feels a hand snake up her side. It grabs her shoulder and whirls her around. She's staring up into Lamb's face. He grabs the back of her neck and kisses her roughly. She yanks him closer, watching the door as he picks her up, sitting her on the kitchen counter, spreading her legs. He pulls the shirt over her head and shoves the jeans off of her legs. And Veronica wants this but she still watches the door, afraid that her father will walk in or that Logan will walk in or even Wallace, because then they'll see her like this and if her eyes aren't open they'll know that she wants this, has been wanting it and hiding it from them. And they'll think that she's disgusting, that she has no self respect, for wanting it like this. She wishes Lamb would say something boneheaded about how he knew this was how she liked it or ask her if he's doing it right, but he doesn't and she hates him even more for knowing her that well.
And as he's fucking her up against the kitchen cupboards so unceremoniously, his hands on her breasts and his mouth on her neck, she wishes they would come and see her like this so she wouldn't have to pretend anymore, pretend that she's so goddamn tough, so squeaky clean, denying herself all the time. Her hand is on the back of his head and it's wet, but not like water and she could feel chips of his skull moving under his scalp and she remembers that Lamb is dead and that she can never have this, no matter how badly she wants it and he looks at her again and asks if she can smell bread and
*****
Her eyes fly open. There is a dull throb in her left ear. In fact that whole side of her head feels like one big bruise. Her head's leaning on the window. She thinks 'I must've hit it against there when...'
She looks out the windshield. An old Chevy pick up is crunched into the front-right side of her Saturn.
"Oh shit," she whispers. She brings her hand to her forhead. It comes away red. She see's something is written on her palm. It's in Lamb's hand writting. She recognizes it from many signed lunch reciepts.
"Madison is a blonde"
'Well what the hell does that mean? I know she's a blonde,' Veronica thinks. 'Not even a natural one. I remember when someone thought I was her in the hall with a new haircut-'
She begins to process this. Everything suddenly seems too sharp and bright.
There is a flurry of knocks on her window. She starts. There is a young white man standing outside. All of the anger in his face disappears when he sees her face.
"Oh my God!"
Veronica looks at her face in the mirror. She has a huge gash at her hairline.
"Please," she says weakly, "please: take me to the hospital."
*****
They've stitched up the side of her face, exactly seven stitches long. They give her pain pills and send her home. She declines the ride from Rick, the man with the junked truck. He's left and it's dark now.
She walks the five miles home. Or tries to. She finds herself in a park, nestled in the 90909 area code, supposedly far away from the murderers and rapists that plague the other side of town. The smell of the grass is sweet to her and reminds her of summer nights as a little kid. For the first time in almost two weeks she feels like she can finally sleep. But she can't. God knows who might wake her up. Or how.
"You can sleep. I'll be here the whole time."
Lamb lays down next to her. He whispers in her ear and it's like she can feel him all around her. Her eyelids get heavy.
She could swear she feels his head against her back. But that's impossible because he's dead. And she thinks it's starting to fade and she gets desperate, Veronica Mars, of all people gets desperate for a second.
"Don't go."
"Is the indestructable Veronica Mars asking me a favor?"
"Asshole."
She could swear he's holding her, but who can say, for God's sake she thinks she might be in love with a dead guy but that doesn't seem like such a huge obstacle after all she