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Title: Eyes Open
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Characters/Pairing: Veronica, Weevil, maybe slight Veronica/Weevil
Rating: PG
Timeline: Takes place sometime after Ain't No Magic Mountain High Enough.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters are situations mentioned in the story below, I am not making money from this. Just having some fun.
A/N: This was written out of sheer determination. I was going to finish something, even if it was the last thing I did. And I managed it. How good it actually is... well, you can decide that. I am through looking at this thing, short though it is. And I seriously need to start coming up with better titles. *sigh*
He was in line for a funnel cake and a coke when she came up to him. Her hair was wind blown and shoved in a ponytail and she was sunburned--a fresh, shiny pink line across her nose and cheekbones. Her arms were crossed and she had a confident smile on her lips and even before she had opened her mouth he knew she would be asking for a favor, but the words that came out were, “You’re going to ride a rollercoaster with me.”
He protested, because it was expected, and went through the token questions: why would he want to ride a rollercoaster with the person who accused him of theft and didn’t she have a friend to ride with? Where was the skinny basketball player that liked to follow her around? And she gave the expected answers: it wasn’t an empty accusation, he had stolen the money, and Wallace was recovering from an unfortunate incident involving a super giant corndog and a loop-de-loop.
So he smiled and shook his head because he knew better than to argue with her, and even if she didn’t quite meet his eyes when she mentioned Wallace and he remembered seeing the kid--walking hand in hand with the baseball player‘s daughter, all sickeningly loving and noticeably Veronica free--that was just one more reason to agree. Because even if they weren’t exactly friends, they were often allies and now both alone and somehow they had made it to a point where it was okay to be alone together.
“Let’s go on that one,” he said, pointing to a silver dome behind her, the inside rollercoaster. When she raised her eyebrows he leered, raking his eyes up and down her body in an interest that wasn’t all feigned: she was wearing a simple baby T-shirt and denim shorts and it was the least amount of layers he’d ever seen her in. He lingered on the curve of her hips and the thin line of skin peeking from under her shirt as he told her about all the “dark, intimate corners” they could hide in.
She rolled her eyes and muttered an “I don’t think so, vato,” laying particular stress on the last word--bad accent included--and had it been anyone else, any other skinny little white girl, he would have made her regret being so daring. But this was Veronica Mars and the had tilt of her chin said she couldn’t be intimidated even if the line of her mouth sometimes hinted at many things she did regret.
Besides, it was comfortable, the banter. Familiar. They wrapped it around themselves like a blanket, protecting them from any real conversation. It served them well in the line for Goliath. (He’d raised his brows and whistled when she told him her rollercoaster of choice and when he’d asked her if she ever got tired of living on the edge her reply was short never accompanied by a sarcastic smile, the Veronica Mars smile, though it wasn’t as sharp as it could have been.) They traded barbs and innuendo back and forth like old pros and entertained themselves by playing “Tattoo Scavenger Hunt,” a game where they picked out certain style tattoos from the skin of people whose wife beaters and bikini tops bared all to see.
It was almost easy between them, almost fun, until Veronica won the last round by pointing to one of own his tattoos, fingers reaching out to touch the name written in cursive on his arm, smile falling when she realized whose name it was. Her fingertips were warm and dry as they traced the letters of Lily’s name and she bit her lip and pulled away. Suddenly, things weren’t so easy between them anymore.
In the awkward silence after, he struggled to find something to cut the tension with, because he liked it when it was easy between them. He liked it when her smile was sharp and her words sarcastic, liked the cynical but amused you-can’t-fool-me look in her eyes, liked the badly formed Spanish slang that tumbled out of her mouth when she felt like being extra condescending as she mocked him. He didn’t like the defensive hunch of her shoulders as she crossed her arms and leaned on the metal railing, pulling away from both him and the subject lingering between them, a subject too hard and too bitter for either of them to touch.
“I should have known you’d be the type to love rollercoasters,” was his attempt, but all it got was a short, uncomfortable look and an awkward, “I didn’t always.”
“What? I thought you were born for the thrill, Mars.”
“Not always,” she smiled, and this time it had the bitter edge he expected. But it turned wistful as she looked past the endless line of people to the rollercoaster ahead of them. “I used to be scared of rollercoasters, you know.”
It was said conversationally, nonchalantly, but he had a hard time believing it. This was the girl who had, on several occasions, waltzed right into the River Styx, who ran from a murderer and not only survived, but held him at gunpoint until the police arrived, and who had faced down his own motorcycle gang with nothing but a pet dog and a tazer. He had a hard time believing that Veronica Mars was afraid of anything.
“Lily loved them, though,” she continued. Her voice was quiet, matching the wistful look on her face and it was strange, seeing this different, softer Veronica. He wondered if this was what she was like before Lily died. If, instead of all angles and hard edges, sharp eyes and bitter smiles, she was like this: quiet and soft, with skin pink from the sun and the freckles on her arms visible, not hidden by the layered clothes she liked to wear like body armor, and blonde hair falling in messy strands as she stared off wistfully into space. He wondered, but he didn’t know. Back then, he didn’t notice Veronica Mars; he was drawn to Lily. Passionate Lily with her full lips and fuller hips and a wicked laugh.
“She decided I needed to get over my fears. She dragged me to my first rollercoaster.” She nodded her head at the giant steel drop that was visible from their place in line. “This one.”
“This one?” She nodded again and his eyebrows rose. “Goliath? This is the first rollercoaster you ever rode?” He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s most known for making people black out, V.”
She shot him a smile over her shoulder, twisted and wry and not nearly as distant as the last one. “Lily wasn’t someone who exactly eased into situations. She jumped into everything head first, and thought everyone else should do the same.”
He snorted. “Truer words have never been spoken, V.”
There was no more tension after that. Instead there was a comfort and ease between them that hadn’t quite been there since the night of Felix’s murder, and underlying that a sort of quiet determination. Maybe this wasn’t about him owing her a favor, or her being alone, he thought as they climbed into their seats on the rollercoaster--in the middle because they couldn’t agree on the front or the back--maybe it wasn’t about the two of them at all.
Maybe it was about Lily. About being with someone who knew her like she did.
When the coaster plummeted down it’s first hill, Veronica held her hands above her head, closed her eyes and screamed. He thought she kept her eyes closed so she could pretend she was beside someone else, because despite her earlier confession, he still couldn’t imagine her scared of anything. No, he thought she closed her eyes so she could be back in a different time, with a different person beside her. A person with long blonde hair, a passion for life and a wicked laugh.
That was alright. He’d let her pretend.
But he kept his eyes open.
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Characters/Pairing: Veronica, Weevil, maybe slight Veronica/Weevil
Rating: PG
Timeline: Takes place sometime after Ain't No Magic Mountain High Enough.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters are situations mentioned in the story below, I am not making money from this. Just having some fun.
A/N: This was written out of sheer determination. I was going to finish something, even if it was the last thing I did. And I managed it. How good it actually is... well, you can decide that. I am through looking at this thing, short though it is. And I seriously need to start coming up with better titles. *sigh*
He was in line for a funnel cake and a coke when she came up to him. Her hair was wind blown and shoved in a ponytail and she was sunburned--a fresh, shiny pink line across her nose and cheekbones. Her arms were crossed and she had a confident smile on her lips and even before she had opened her mouth he knew she would be asking for a favor, but the words that came out were, “You’re going to ride a rollercoaster with me.”
He protested, because it was expected, and went through the token questions: why would he want to ride a rollercoaster with the person who accused him of theft and didn’t she have a friend to ride with? Where was the skinny basketball player that liked to follow her around? And she gave the expected answers: it wasn’t an empty accusation, he had stolen the money, and Wallace was recovering from an unfortunate incident involving a super giant corndog and a loop-de-loop.
So he smiled and shook his head because he knew better than to argue with her, and even if she didn’t quite meet his eyes when she mentioned Wallace and he remembered seeing the kid--walking hand in hand with the baseball player‘s daughter, all sickeningly loving and noticeably Veronica free--that was just one more reason to agree. Because even if they weren’t exactly friends, they were often allies and now both alone and somehow they had made it to a point where it was okay to be alone together.
“Let’s go on that one,” he said, pointing to a silver dome behind her, the inside rollercoaster. When she raised her eyebrows he leered, raking his eyes up and down her body in an interest that wasn’t all feigned: she was wearing a simple baby T-shirt and denim shorts and it was the least amount of layers he’d ever seen her in. He lingered on the curve of her hips and the thin line of skin peeking from under her shirt as he told her about all the “dark, intimate corners” they could hide in.
She rolled her eyes and muttered an “I don’t think so, vato,” laying particular stress on the last word--bad accent included--and had it been anyone else, any other skinny little white girl, he would have made her regret being so daring. But this was Veronica Mars and the had tilt of her chin said she couldn’t be intimidated even if the line of her mouth sometimes hinted at many things she did regret.
Besides, it was comfortable, the banter. Familiar. They wrapped it around themselves like a blanket, protecting them from any real conversation. It served them well in the line for Goliath. (He’d raised his brows and whistled when she told him her rollercoaster of choice and when he’d asked her if she ever got tired of living on the edge her reply was short never accompanied by a sarcastic smile, the Veronica Mars smile, though it wasn’t as sharp as it could have been.) They traded barbs and innuendo back and forth like old pros and entertained themselves by playing “Tattoo Scavenger Hunt,” a game where they picked out certain style tattoos from the skin of people whose wife beaters and bikini tops bared all to see.
It was almost easy between them, almost fun, until Veronica won the last round by pointing to one of own his tattoos, fingers reaching out to touch the name written in cursive on his arm, smile falling when she realized whose name it was. Her fingertips were warm and dry as they traced the letters of Lily’s name and she bit her lip and pulled away. Suddenly, things weren’t so easy between them anymore.
In the awkward silence after, he struggled to find something to cut the tension with, because he liked it when it was easy between them. He liked it when her smile was sharp and her words sarcastic, liked the cynical but amused you-can’t-fool-me look in her eyes, liked the badly formed Spanish slang that tumbled out of her mouth when she felt like being extra condescending as she mocked him. He didn’t like the defensive hunch of her shoulders as she crossed her arms and leaned on the metal railing, pulling away from both him and the subject lingering between them, a subject too hard and too bitter for either of them to touch.
“I should have known you’d be the type to love rollercoasters,” was his attempt, but all it got was a short, uncomfortable look and an awkward, “I didn’t always.”
“What? I thought you were born for the thrill, Mars.”
“Not always,” she smiled, and this time it had the bitter edge he expected. But it turned wistful as she looked past the endless line of people to the rollercoaster ahead of them. “I used to be scared of rollercoasters, you know.”
It was said conversationally, nonchalantly, but he had a hard time believing it. This was the girl who had, on several occasions, waltzed right into the River Styx, who ran from a murderer and not only survived, but held him at gunpoint until the police arrived, and who had faced down his own motorcycle gang with nothing but a pet dog and a tazer. He had a hard time believing that Veronica Mars was afraid of anything.
“Lily loved them, though,” she continued. Her voice was quiet, matching the wistful look on her face and it was strange, seeing this different, softer Veronica. He wondered if this was what she was like before Lily died. If, instead of all angles and hard edges, sharp eyes and bitter smiles, she was like this: quiet and soft, with skin pink from the sun and the freckles on her arms visible, not hidden by the layered clothes she liked to wear like body armor, and blonde hair falling in messy strands as she stared off wistfully into space. He wondered, but he didn’t know. Back then, he didn’t notice Veronica Mars; he was drawn to Lily. Passionate Lily with her full lips and fuller hips and a wicked laugh.
“She decided I needed to get over my fears. She dragged me to my first rollercoaster.” She nodded her head at the giant steel drop that was visible from their place in line. “This one.”
“This one?” She nodded again and his eyebrows rose. “Goliath? This is the first rollercoaster you ever rode?” He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s most known for making people black out, V.”
She shot him a smile over her shoulder, twisted and wry and not nearly as distant as the last one. “Lily wasn’t someone who exactly eased into situations. She jumped into everything head first, and thought everyone else should do the same.”
He snorted. “Truer words have never been spoken, V.”
There was no more tension after that. Instead there was a comfort and ease between them that hadn’t quite been there since the night of Felix’s murder, and underlying that a sort of quiet determination. Maybe this wasn’t about him owing her a favor, or her being alone, he thought as they climbed into their seats on the rollercoaster--in the middle because they couldn’t agree on the front or the back--maybe it wasn’t about the two of them at all.
Maybe it was about Lily. About being with someone who knew her like she did.
When the coaster plummeted down it’s first hill, Veronica held her hands above her head, closed her eyes and screamed. He thought she kept her eyes closed so she could pretend she was beside someone else, because despite her earlier confession, he still couldn’t imagine her scared of anything. No, he thought she closed her eyes so she could be back in a different time, with a different person beside her. A person with long blonde hair, a passion for life and a wicked laugh.
That was alright. He’d let her pretend.
But he kept his eyes open.
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