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The First Time Veronica Mars Returned to Neptune

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It’s not like he’d ever expected it to last. Hell, he’d never expected it to get started in the first place.

“I broke up with Piz,” Veronica announced when she showed up on that stifling August day, unannounced. As far as he’d known she was still in DC doing that fancy ass internship but it wasn’t like he was keeping that close of tabs on her or something, “I’m not going back to Hearst.”

Still, the next words he expected out of her mouth were that she was going straight to the FBI or transferring to an ivy league. Why come by if not to say goodbye? So long Weevil, thanks for all the not actually good times. He was kind of surprised she’d even do that. It wasn’t like he was exactly part of her scholastic plans, any of her damned plans for that matter.

“I already know everything I need to know for the job,” she told him instead, “Why waste the time and money?”

“I dunno, to get out?” he rolled his eyes, watching her as she walked past him into his apartment, setting down her bag on the table.

“I’ve decided I’m not going anywhere,” she said firmly, “Neptune is where I belong.”

“Oh,” he wasn’t sure what to say, what to make of this big declaration. Obviously something had happened in DC but he didn’t know what to make of this version of V.

“I want you by my side,” she turned back and looked at him.

“Even after last fall?” he sounded skeptical even to himself, he couldn’t believe he’d be her first choice of business partner if she was going into investigating full time, an ex con with an overdeveloped sense of justice wasn’t exactly ideal material.

“Especially after last fall,” she leaned against the kitchen cabinet surveying him, “But that wasn’t what I meant… well not all of it.”


“Tell me you’ve never thought about us,” she stared straight into his eyes, reaching out and placing her hands on either side of his hips, “I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself if that’s the truth.”

“Us as in…” he could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“I know we joke around but have you thought about sleeping with me or not? It’s a simple question, Weevil.”

“You know I have, V, even though it isn’t like it was ever going to-”

He didn’t have time to finish snapping his answer, annoyed at her for pressuring him to expose his soft underbelly. She pulled him against her and kissed him hard, pushing her tongue against his lips to gain entry into his mouth.

“Show me,” she told him, grabbing his hands and placing them on her body, guiding him to touch the small swells of her tits.

“What’s this about, Veronica?” he kissed her back just as forcefully, pressing his lips against hers, which tasted of fruity lip gloss and sent him straight back to the sense memory of middle school exploration, “Really.”

“Because I want to,” she told him, between briefer kisses, “Isn’t that enough?”

It was. Right then it was.

He buried his fingers in her shiny silky golden hair, trailing kisses down her neck, and feeling a shiver run down his spine as she ran her hands under his shirt and up his back, nails dragging lightly back down.

Leaving one hand in her hair, he moved the other right under her arm, fingertips against her ribcage as he held her against him. She tugged at his shirt and he had to let of of her to let her pull it over his head, her small white hands all over his ink covered skin.

Her shirt was next to go, his head dropping down to place kisses until he hit the band of her bra, hands moving to massage through the material.

Veronica’s hands were busy, impatiently working his jeans open. Girl was not wasting any time. This was definitely not how he’d imagined hooking up with V, in his sad pathetic little fantasies… not that he was complaining.

He was glad he was already barefoot, as he nearly tripped trying to get free of his pants and boxers as they twisted around his ankles in the process of his being pushed backwards in the direction of the couch.

He couldn’t have said later, how V got free of her shoes and jeans and underwear, all he knew was that she was suddenly only wearing her bra and pressing him against the couch cushions, kissing him once more as she straddled his body with her own.

And then she was sliding down around his cock without further preamble. He moved his hands to her hips, hips pressing up to meet her body with his own.

No, this wasn’t how he’d pictured it at all, V all demanding urgency, hands on his shoulders as she fucked him at a brisk clip, none of the teasing and blushing he’d always imagined would accompany what he pictured would be a seduction.

She let out a moan and threw her head back, back arching and breath short. He reached down, moving his hand between them to rub her clit, contribute something to this other than a dick to ride, but she pushed his hand away, lacing her fingers with his and holding them against his sides.

He could have fought her, but he didn’t want to, not really. He’d never imagined her like this, but he’d be damned if it wasn’t fucking fantastic none the less.

She used their clasped hands for leverage, pushing off of them as she rocked faster and started to tremble. He thrust his hips upwards, holding them there as long as possible.

Her cry of release was short and cut off. He might have mistaken it for something else if it were not for the abrupt shift in intensity, urgency gone as she rolled her hips smoothly, before pulling off of him, hands still holding him in place as she sank down onto her knees in front of the couch and lowered her mouth down around his cock, sucking him off with a single minded intensity.

There was nothing teasing or playful about her approach.

“Damn, V… you aren’t messing around…” he groaned, as she let go of one of his hands to hold his hip in place and he was able to push her hair out of her face and get a better view.

She sucked harder, ignoring the warning of his increasingly bilingual swearing. In fact, as he felt himself start to go, the first jolt of cum shooting from him, she pressed down harder. Another bit of trivia he would never have guessed and now would never be able to forget: Veronica Mars swallowed.

He was pretty sure it was less than 30 seconds after he finished when she visibly stiffened, awkwardly looking away like what she’d just done had suddenly caught up with her brain.

“I should go,” she pushed off her hands, searching for her clothes, looking anywhere but at him, “This was a stupid idea.”

“Hey… V,” he reached out softly, “What’s with the 180s?”

“I didn’t really think this through,” she looked embarrassed, “Like what? I came over here and expected just to jump into…”

“Into what, V? Can you tell me that now?”

“I don’t know,” she laughed, an edge of panic to her voice.

“Whatever it was, I’m not sorry unless you are.”

He wasn’t sure what else to say. He didn’t know what he wanted from her. Weevil made it a point never to want things he couldn’t have and he never knew where he stood with V, now less so than ever.

“I’m not so much sorry, as perplexed. I’m not acting much like myself today.”

“We can put some clothes on and you can accuse me of some random crimes if it would make you feel better,” he gently teased, “For old times sake.”

“I did mean it, though. I do want you on my side.”

“I am, V, as much as anyone can be.”

That was the truth. He’d been team Veronica for a fucking long time if he was honest about it, even if it was only on an on call volunteer basis.

“Did you really want me to tell you how I ended up here tonight?” she considered him as she threw back on her shirt and reached for her underwear.

“That’s why I asked,” he shook his head.

So he put on his boxers and she sat back down on the couch and pulled her knees up against her chest and told him all about DC and how much bullshit it was.

“I tried to think of anything that was real in my whole life and it came out on one hand,” he watched her twine her hair up messily in an elastic, “You were on that hand.”

“And you had to come over here and prove that to yourself?”

“Forget it. It was idiotic. I really should go.”

“If that’s what you want, V… or you could stay. Your call.”

And that’s how Veronica Mars spent the first of many nights between his low thread count sheets. That first night she braced her hands against the wall behind her head as he licked her pussy, letting out these little moans that led to bigger ones, squirming against the mattress, and he told himself even if this was all it ever was it would have to be enough.

Later, when one of her legs was hooked over his shoulder and her fingers bit into the other as they both moaned at how completely he was buried inside of her, he knew that all that business about it being enough was a lie. It would never be enough. Even at the beginning he knew she wouldn’t stay, that she’d take off for good this time, but it sure as hell was better than nothing.

That’s what he had to remind himself later, when she told him her application to Stanford had been accepted, that yes it was a rigged game but if you couldn't beat ‘em might as well join ‘em. Right?

He’d always known it couldn’t last, that the whole PI vigilante slumming it with his ass thing was a phase and she’d come out on the other side to reascend like a princess to her tower.

Still, for a while he’d woken up with her hair in his mouth, worked next to her and slept the same way. Veronica in his worn out old t-shirts and cute little cotton and lace Victoria Secret underwear. He’d let his guard down and maybe she had too. Like he knew it wasn’t gonna last but at the same time it was real right then.

“Take care of yourself, V,” he shrugged in the end, hands in his pockets, and that was that.

Years later, she’d been relegated back to those fuzzy ass memories that only popped up every once in a while. He’d wondered sometimes, how she remembered about her gap year, if she thought about him ever. Eventually he stopped more or less.

Then, when he actually had learned how to hope again, how to want, when he’d finally reached a point where he wasn’t just settling for what he could get… that’s when she fucking showed back up in Neptune.