Disclaimer: Veronica, Duncan, Lilly, Weevil, Logan, Grandma Letti, and all other characters mentioned here are the property of UPN, Rob Thomas, Stu Segall, and Silver Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended, so please don't sue, because I have no money.
Author's notes: Major thanks to Mandilyn and Blaire23, without whom this story would not have been possible. To this day, it remains one of my all-time favorites.
Veronica should be at home. She should be making sundaes for herself and her father, catching up on her English homework, watching Jay Leno, and going to bed early.
But Veronica's not at home, because she learned a long time ago that doing otherwise is usually much more fun.
Instead, she's racing down the shore of Dog Beach, Weevil at her side and Backup at their heels. The sudden downpour had come out of nowhere, and Weevil is sputtering and swearing and wiping the water out of his eyes with increasingly annoyed gestures, but Veronica only laughs. She's given up trying to keep dry, as they're both already soaked - her shoes are squishing with every step and her bangs are plastered to her forehead and her jeans weigh a ton. Half a mile down, her car sits in the otherwise empty parking lot, but she slows her steps from a run to a walk and throws her head back, letting the rain wash down over her. Through the drops rolling down her cheeks, she smiles.
Weevil turns and looks at her oddly for a moment, then shrugs and keeps running towards shelter. "Crazy puta," she hears him mutter.
"Which one of us has the keys?" she calls after him. He makes a big show of sighing and turning back towards her, but that just makes her grin even wider.
"What's wrong with you?!" he shouts. Veronica squints at him - he actually sounds angry.
"Lilly loved the rain," she says by way of explanation, and that gives him pause. They don't talk about Lilly very often, as big a part of their lives as she was. But he knows that Veronica chooses the oddest times to remember her, and right now is no exception. Usually he indulges her, but his jacket is getting ruined and abuelita is expecting him home any minute. He fidgets back and forth, but just as he opens his mouth to respond, Veronica almost predictably interrupts him. "C'mere," she says, waving a hand at him, and with her thin little t-shirt clinging to her breasts they both know there's no way he'd refuse. Hell, he rarely refuses even under normal circumstances - she hasn't had to pull the head-tilt in months.
Weevil strides forward, until he's standing directly in front of her, and she giggles at him. "You really need to relax," she teases. Weevil only glares, until she slides slender little arms around his neck and kisses him soundly on the mouth. The kiss is just as unexpected as the rain, but he could care less, and his fingers dig into her hips as he yanks her closer. When she pulls back, she's still laughing, and Backup is running in circles around them. She takes his hand and he laces their fingers together as they stroll lazily towards the car, still drenched.
Halfway there, the rain starts coming down harder and the wind picks up, so by the time they reach their destination they're running again, still holding hands. Veronica pulls her keys out of her pocket and unlocks the front door. They all pile in, ending up with Weevil in the driver's seat, Backup curled in the passenger's seat, and Veronica in the back. The rain courses down the windows, even harder now than it was mere minutes ago, and it's clear that they're not going to be getting out of here any time soon because they can barely see the front of the car, much less the road ahead of it. Veronica sprawls out across both of the back seats as Weevil curses again at Backup, who's in the process of shaking the water off of himself.
"From zero to monsoon in sixty seconds," he comments, having to raise his voice to be heard above the steady pounding of the rain.
"Reason number six hundred thirty-two why I can't wait to get the hell out of California," Veronica agrees.
"I think it's kinda weird - most people would kill to live here, and we're dying to leave."
"I think you're almost pre-determined to hate your own hometown, no matter where it is. Makes you appreciate it so much more once you're gone." Weevil sinks into the driver's seat as Veronica's eyes drift closed, and he squints as he tries fruitlessly to make out shapes beyond the torrential downpour that's occurring outside their little sanctuary. But all he can see is droplets and darkness, and it feels like they're so cut off from the world. Just himself and Veronica in this tiny space, their clothing sticking to them uncomfortably. And Backup, already asleep in the seat next to him. Weevil chuckles.
"Some guard dog," he teases. Veronica leans forward to pat the sleeping dog on the head.
"He's the best. He just knows that he doesn't need to protect me from you." There are so many different ways that Weevil can interpret that, but he chooses to turn it into a joke.
"What'chu sayin', chica?" he teases. "I'm a bad boy!" Veronica gives him the once-over and can't stop her snort of laughter. If there's anything he's not, it's a bad boy. He's clean-shaven and well-behaved (most of the time) and the most loyal person Veronica knows. And she loves him for it.
"Aren't bad boys supposed to lead gangs and ride motorcycles?" she says with a slow, wide-eyed blink and a hint of a smirk. "Because I haven't seen any of those lately."
"You sayin' I'm not intimidating?" Weevil returns. "I'll show you intimidating!" As Veronica laughs and squeals, Weevil climbs into the backseat with her, looming over her with a dark glare. Seeing him try so hard only makes her laugh harder, and his hard expression starts to slip as he joins her in laughter, easing onto the seat beside her.
"Allright, you're very threatening," Veronica amends. Weevil elbows her in the side.
"Don't you forget it, chica," he says. They're leaning up against each other, staring out the windows, and Veronica sighs.
"How much longer are we gonna be stuck in here?" she whines.
"Probably awhile - you know how bad these things can get. Why, am I not entertaining enough either?" Veronica gives him a sidelong glance.
"Oh, no, I'm sure you have plenty of...activities to suggest," she says. He leers, his teeth flashing white in the dark vehicle. Her entire side is pressed against his, cold and wet. As they endure several more moments of silence, Weevil begins to feel her tremor, then shake violently. Her tiny body is soaked to the bone and trying its hardest not to freeze to death. Without thinking, Weevil stretches out on the seat and pulls Veronica with him, enfolding her in his arms. His own fingers are starting to get just as chilled, but he rubs them rapidly up and down her back and arms. She snuggles into him as the shaking stops, but her body is still far colder than it should be. Clinging to the collar of Weevil's leather jacket, she tilts her head back to look at him with an amused smile on her face.
"Admit it," she teases. "You're about half a second away from making a comment about the proper way to regenerate body heat, aren't you?" Weevil shrugs, grinning unrepentantly.
"Hadn't crossed my mind. But now that you mention it, you probably should start taking off some of those wet clothes..."
"In your dreams, vato," Veronica retorts, but even as she says it she finds herself staring at his lips, feeling his solid bulk pressed against her. She blushes, glad that he probably can't see, and tucks her head back under his chin. In the dark backseat, they huddle against one another, their breathing rising in tandem, slow and soft and even. The silence is not exactly uncomfortable, but still there are words to be said that are floating unspoken between them. Weevil's fingers absently trail up and down Veronica's back, feeling the way her shirt clings to the small hills and valleys of her spinal cord.
The engine is off, the clock on the dashboard dark, so Weevil isn't sure how much time passes, but suddenly he finds himself waking up without ever remembering falling asleep. Veronica is still laying half on top of him, her hair and skin still damp. Outside the car, the rain has slowed to a drizzle, and the sun has sunken below the horizon, leaving the backseat they're sharing even darker. Weevil nudges his companion.
"Hey, V...V. C'mon girl, up and at 'em." Veronica lets out a sound halfway between a grunt and a moan, and starts wiggling around. That's definitely not a good idea on her part, and Weevil feels the lower half of his body start to respond to her proximity. He tries to still her movements, but she's nothing if not slippery, and when she finally stops fidgeting he's flat on his back on the seat, her short little legs straddling him, her palms pressed against the leather seat as her face hovers over his.
"Hey," she says quietly. Weevil swallows hard, watching her assess the situation. Even with the little amount of light they have, he can see the instant that her face relaxes, that her mouth curls up into that enigmatic little smile of hers that can only mean trouble. And before he knows what's happening, she bends her elbows to bring her face closer to his and rolls her hips upwards, their groins meeting full-on. Even though she initiated the contact, Veronica lets out a small gasp, her elbows buckling so that she falls on top of him. Weevil grabs her by the forearms and lifts her up so that he can look her in the eye.
"Rain's cleared up," he says, clearing his throat. "We should probably head back." Veronica only smiles at him, but doesn't respond. At least not verbally. She breaks free of his gentle hold and tilts her head down to kiss him, hard.
Almost as soon as the kiss begins, it spins wildly out of control. Veronica's lithe little fingers take charge, sliding down his scalp and neck and she pulls him as closely against hers as she can. Her tongue slips past his lips and she squirms her hips even more insistently against his, teasing him. With a deep groan, Weevil quickly slides out of his jacket as he grabs her by the waist and flips them both over so that she's sprawled beneath him, settling his hips against hers. He knows that if they're going to stop, it's going to have to be up to her, because he's wanted this for far too long.
Veronica kisses him desperately, and the sounds of her small moans seem to echo throughout the car. Weevil lies completely on top of her, having to remind himself for the millionth time that Veronica Mars is not like other girls - she doesn't need to be coddled, and she isn't made of glass. Still, his fingers are tentative as they graze her the side of her breast over her shirt. Her whole body arcs into his palm, giving him the confidence he needs, and he slides a hand underneath the sodden material. He unhooks her bra with practiced ease, and feels the chuckle rumble out of her throat. As soon as his thumb flicks across her rock-hard nipple, however, it immediately turns into another moan.
Veronica works her own hands under Weevil's shirt, trailing them across cold, smooth skin. She shoves him into a sitting position and yanks the shirt over his head, her mouth immediately attacking his neck. Weevil can't remember the last time a woman had such an effect on him. As he clutches Veronica ever closer, her shirt keeps inching upwards, until finally she rips both that and her bra clean off, tossing everything into a damp pile of clothing on the floor, and drags Weevil's body back down to cover her own.
She's not cold anymore - in fact Weevil could swear that her skin is hot enough to burn. He places open-mouthed kisses on her neck, nibbles at her jaw line and her collarbone, traces his tongue down until he has one nipple in his mouth and the other between his fingers. Then he switches. Veronica, never one for sitting still, is wiggling and flinching and making all sorts of delicious little noises that only serve to make him even more turned on. His tongue dips lower - down her stomach, into her bellybutton, across the waistband of her jeans. Weevil reaches for the button, confident that she will stop him if this is going too far.
She doesn't. If anything, she urges him on, lifting her legs to make it easier to remove her pants. Once they've joined their other clothes on the floor, he has to take a moment just to look at her; to appreciate the sight of Veronica Mars sprawled out before him, mostly naked, face flushed and hair mussed and chest rising and falling quickly and unevenly.
He's never been more attracted to her.
When he returns to her mouth, the kisses become even more heated. They're both taking more liberties with their hands, Weevil's skimming the elastic of her tiny polka-dotted boy-short panties. Veronica's legs fall apart and she presses on his shoulder, urging him on, so two of his fingers slip inside, stroking her gently. For a moment, she just lies there, but then she reaches down to undo his buckle. Getting him out of his pants is slightly difficult in the limited space, and she hooks her toes on the waist to help him along. They crash into each other, each ending up bumping their heads, and they have to laugh, until suddenly he's completely naked and they've come to the realization that it's all or nothing. Weevil eases them down so that they're lying next to each other, gripping her waist with one hand and stroking the side of her face with the other.
"We, uh...don't have to," he rasps, his voice deep and hoarse with desire. "I mean, if you don't want to..." Veronica grins.
"Weevil, I just helped you take off your pants. Does it seem like I don't wanna do this?" He still looks uncertain, so she cranes her neck to place a gentle kiss on his shoulder. "You have something, right?" Weevil's mouth gapes open and his face flushes, but he reaches over Veronica's hip and rummages around in his jeans pocket. She traces the tattoos on his arm and kisses his chest until he returns with a wrapped condom in his hand, a sheepish look still in place. Veronica takes it from him. "See? You really are a bad boy," she teases.
She unwraps it with nimble fingers, slowly rolling it down his shaft with care, and Weevil can't repress a shudder. He gathers her in his arms and kisses her, stroking her tongue with his own and it's slow and passionate and better than he ever imagined. His thumbs hook into the top of her underwear, but before he takes that final plunge, he studies his face once more. "Are you sure?" he asks, his brow furrowed in concern. Veronica's smile is serene.
"I'm positive," she murmurs. And that's all the reassurance that he needs, so he slowly peels her panties down her legs. Just like that, the final barrier is gone, and they surge toward one another. It's been months since Veronica has been with anyone, but no caution is necessary - Weevil slips inside of her gently, murmuring words of encouragement in her ear in both English and Spanish as he gives her body a moment to adjust to his girth before he starts to move. Their rhythm is slow and steady and he hisses as he pumps in and out.
Veronica squeezes her eyes shut and clutches at the back of Weevil's neck because the feeling is so intense that she feels like she might explode. But as she grows used to it, she finds herself wrapping her legs around Weevil's waist and urging him faster, until he's slamming into her at a furious pace that has the car rocking back and forth with them and Backup stirring in the front seat. Then the feeling only intensifies again, until she does explode, and it's all of the sore muscles and shaking aftermath and seeing stars that she never did experience with Duncan. Weevil follows only a few seconds later, shooting inside the condom as his mouth sucks hard at Veronica's neck.
When it's over they lay clinging to one another, and enfolded in one another's arms, they fall asleep once again, only to wake up with the sun streaming through the windows. Weevil feels like he should say something, but he doesn't know what. At some unspoken command, they begin to gently pry apart, and he ties off the condom and cracks the door to throw it onto the gravel. This gets Backup's attention, and the canine wakes with a start. Hyper now that he's had a nice long nap, he scampers into the backseat with Weevil and Veronica, licking and barking and trying to find a comfortable spot. They have to laugh at this, at the ridiculousness of the entire situation, and somehow that eases all the tension. Weevil looks down at Veronica; one arm is shoving at Backup, her pert pink breasts jiggling enticingly as she fights to keep him away. Her skin is flushed and there's a purplish bruise forming on her neck with distinctive teeth marks in the center. Reaching over, she opens the car door again, this time to let Backup out. When she closes it, she looks back over at Weevil.
"He'll find his way home," she says, registering the intensity of his gaze. "What?" Weevil smiles.
"Nothin'," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She regards him oddly, but returns his smile.
They're lucky that the parking lot is still empty, because it would be so very fitting for them to get caught by one of Neptune's finest - probably Lamb, given their luck. So as the sunrise stretches onward to reach its full height, they attempt to re-dress themselves in the backseat of Veronica's car. It's cramped and it's uncomfortable, but they only laugh as more heads are bumped and accidental injuries are inflicted, sifting through the pile of clothes on the floor, still slightly damp. They end up with just enough clothing on to get them home without getting arrested - Weevil dons his boxers and his jeans, while Veronica steals his shirt and slips it on over her panties. One after the other, they climb into the front seat. They keys are dangling in the ignition, but Veronica lays both hands on the steering wheel, pausing as if she's searching for the right words to say. Weevil reflexively goes on the defensive, retreating into himself.
"Look, this doesn't have to mean anything if we don't want it to," he says, hating the words as they leave his tongue. Veronica turns to fully face him, an expression of bewilderment on her face.
"Why do you always do that?" she asks.
"What?"
"Act like nobody wants to have anything to do with you." Weevil shrugs.
"Habit," he admits. He's not saying it to gain any sympathy, it's just the truth. Veronica's eyes narrow, and he faces straight ahead. He's never been a fan of the Mars stare - when she looks at you, it's as if she sees all of you; not just the pieces that are shoved haphazardly together, but the whole package, inside and out. Weevil doesn't like the idea of somebody seeing all of that from just a look. He's watching Backup's pudgy little body disappear into the distance when he feels Veronica reach across the seat to take his hand.
He looks down, sees their fingers intertwined just like yesterday, but today it feels like they're connected on so many new levels that it's about so much more than simply holding hands.
"I don't want to be a habit, Eli," she half-whispers. It's the use of his first name that breaks him, makes him hear in the tentative use of it that she's completely sincere.
"I don't want you to be either," he admits. Veronica gives his hand a squeeze.
"This'll work," she says confidently. Maybe it's the early-morning sun, maybe it's the afterglow, maybe it's her little blonde head nodding with certainty, but when Veronica says it, Weevil believes her.
Veronica starts the car, having to disconnect their hands in order to do so, so he moves his hand to her thigh, feeling the intense need to be somehow connected to her. The sun paints the highways and backroads in fiery orange ribbons and Weevil thinks that he could probably get used to spending his mornings like this.
The LeBaron cruises to a halt at a stoplight and Veronica not-so-subtly grabs his wrist, sliding his hand further up her leg. She smiles at him across the car and her eyes are dark with lust.
Yeah. He could definitely get used to this.