Spoilers/Warnings: Contains adult language and sexual content. No spoilers for the show.
Word Count: 1497
Disclaimer: The characters depicted here were created by Rob Thomas. I like to make them do things that they normally wouldn't, but I don't make any money off it.
Summary: It's the summer of 2007, and Don Lamb faces another birthday alone--but not for long.
Don Lamb contemplated the ice cubes slowly melting in his glass of Scotch. It was his birthday, and while normally that would be cause for celebration--particularly with a woman of the slutty persuasion--this year it was hitting him hard.
Christ, he was 35. Thirty-five years old, and what did he have to show for it? No wife, no kids, no prospects. He was stuck in this shitty little town that really only had good weather going for it.
Except today. Today it was all of 65 and overcast. In July. Some higher power obviously hated him.
He took a sip of his drink, savoring the smooth warmth as it slid down his throat. He might be 35, but he was going to get drunk like he was 21.
Halfway through his second drink, someone knocked on the door. When he opened it, all he could see was a giant mass of multi-colored balloons. He was pretty sure there was a person behind them, but it was hard to tell. "Hello?"
"Delivery for Don Lamb!" a frighteningly perky voice chirped...an awfully familiar voice, at that.
"Veronica? What are you doing here?"
"Right now I'm trying to juggle 35 balloons and a birthday cake, so it would be nice if you let me in."
He opened the screen door, and watched in amusement as she tried to wrestle the helium-filled balloons through it. She finally made it inside and released them, watching as they floated to the ceiling and bounced gently.
He shut the door behind her, and then said, "You still haven't told me why you're here."
"It's your birthday. Don't people normally celebrate those things?"
"People do. We don't. How did you even know it was my birthday?"
"My mom used to bake you a cake every year, remember?"
"Sure, but that was ages ago. I'm surprised you remember."
She shrugged. "When I was younger, I thought there was some great cosmic significance to our birthdays being a month apart." When he looked at her curiously, she added, "Hey, I was twelve, and you looked cute in your uniform."
He smirked at her admission, but he still wasn't buying her story. "So why this year?"
"It's a milestone--35. Officially closer to forty than thirty."
He winced. "Gee, thanks for pointing that out."
"If it makes you feel better, I turn twenty in a month. You can no longer think of me as an annoying teenager."
"That doesn't really help, no. Mostly it just makes me feel like a dirty old man."
Her eyebrow quirked up. "Oh? And why is that?"
"Because when I was your age, you were in, like, pre-school."
"So was Madison."
"Madison Sinclair. Uber-bitch you fucked in the elevator of the Neptune Grand. Ring any bells?"
"I remember, I just don't see what that has to do..."
"Will you please stop talking and let me give you your present?"
"You got me a present?"
"Yes, although I'm starting to think you might be too old to appreciate it."
"Would you stop with the age cracks?"
"Fine. Now close your eyes."
He closed them, saying, "I swear to God, Veronica, if this is some kind of trick..."
"You can open them."
When he did, she was just standing there, maybe a foot away. There was no brightly-wrapped package in her hands, no festive bag stuffed with tissue paper sitting on the table. "So where is it?"
"You're looking at it."
"Veronica, the only thing I see is..."
"Me," she finished softly.
He gaped at her. "Is this some kind of a joke?"
She shook her head, and took a step closer. "No joke. You know, when I was fifteen, Lilly and I would come up with excuses to go visit my dad at work just so we could see you. She was always daring me to try and kiss you, but I didn't want to get you in trouble." Another step closer, and he was pretty sure his brain had just blown a fuse. "She told me once that you were going to be my eighteenth-birthday present from her. Obviously that didn't work out." One more step, and they were practically touching. "So are you going to unwrap me, or what?"
A part of his brain was still convinced this was a dream or a joke. The part connected to his cock pointed out that when the nubile young star of his most pornographic fantasies stood in front of him and said "Get me naked and fuck me," he really shouldn't argue.
He tried to ignore the fact that his hand was shaking as he reached out and pulled down the zipper on her hoodie. She had a tank top on underneath, and he pushed the sweatshirt off her shoulders, resting his fingers on her warm, bare skin. He looked down into her eyes, looking for some sign of disgust or hatred that would tell him this was some kind of trick.
It wasn't there.
Pulling the hoodie off completely, he cast it aside, and then leaned in to kiss her. She responded eagerly, her hands coming up to frame his face, her lips parting slightly to invite exploration. He locked one arm around her back, the other beneath her ass, and easily lifted her off the floor. She obligingly wrapped her legs around his waist, and he made a beeline for the bedroom.
Depositing her on the center of his bed, Lamb took a moment to gaze down at her. She looked so young against the slightly rumpled sheets, and he felt a pang of conscience. But when she hooked one small finger through the belt loop of his jeans and practically purred, "What are you waiting for?" all doubts disappeared.
"Just admiring the view," he replied before stripping off his t-shirt.
She stared up at his broad chest and rock-hard abs, and grinned. "Maybe we should start a mutual admiration society, then."
"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" he asked, flicking open the button on her jeans and pulling down the zipper.
She lifted her hips so he could pull the jeans off, and replied, "We mostly call it sex, but we can use a euphimism if that offends your elderly ears."
"Watch it," he growled. He bent his head and pressed a kiss to her inner thigh; she moaned softly when he ran his tongue along the edge of her underwear. "Do you have any idea how many times I've imagined doing this?"
"I bet I could give you a run for your money in that department," she said, fumbling at the fly of his jeans.
He gently batted her hands away, stripping out of the pants quickly, his boxers going with them. He couldn't help smirking when her eyes widened. "Impressed?"
"God may have skimped in the brains department, but he certainly compensated you in other areas," she conceded.
"We really need to find a better use for your mouth."
Her smile was wicked. "I'm sure we can come up with something."
He groaned at the thought. Hooking his hands beneath the hem of her shirt, Lamb pulled it up and over her head. He blinked. She wasn't wearing a bra.
This was totally the best birthday ever.
He couldn't resist teasing her nipples with his tongue, delighting in her breathy moans and the way her fingers clutched in his hair.
"You're beautiful, Veronica," he murmured against her soft skin.
"You're not so bad yourself," she gasped out as his fingers skimmed across her hip and between her legs.
He kissed a path up her neck and found her mouth once more, their tongues moving in time with his fingers. Her hand found a target of its own, and for several moments they didn't speak.
Finally he pulled away, saying, "Don't go anywhere."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
She eyed his naked ass as he hurried into the bathroom, enjoying the view. She was probably crazy for doing this, but that wasn't going to stop her from relishing every single second. Her schoolgirl crush had morphed into old-fashioned lust years before, and she didn't need to like him to want to fuck him. All that hearts-and-flowers love bullshit was for idiots.
He returned with a handful of condoms, and she couldn't help laughing. "You're awfully optimistic."
"Never hurts to be prepared. Now, where were we?" He didn't wait for a reply. Tearing open one of the foil packets, he quickly rolled on the latex and positioned his body over hers. Pulling off her panties, he remarked, "Last chance."
In response, she hooked one leg around his thigh and stared up at him, waiting.
He kissed her nose, then her chin, then her forehead. As his lips found her mouth once more, he sheathed himself slowly inside her, reveling in her tight heat. They began to rock together, and when her fingernails lightly scored his back, he only had one thought...
....best present *ever*.