Title: Twelve Days of Veronica (A Dirty Dozen): One Pair of Handcuffs
Rating: R, for sexual situations
Spoilers: Through the series finale
Summary: No good deed goes unpunished...or at least that's what Veronica thinks when she plays elf to Vinnie Van Lowe's Santa. Fortunately, he has a few surprises in that bag of toys.
Disclaimer: Veronica Mars and its characters were created by Rob Thomas. I'm not him.
Author's Note: Written for my own personal 12 Days of Veronica Fic Challenge. The prompt, "one pair of handcuffs," was supplied by silver_fic.
Veronica scowled at her reflection in the mirror. This was not what she had signed up for when Parker cajoled her into "bringing Christmas cheer to the children's ward at the hospital." The green elf costume looked like it had been designed by Frederick's of Hollywood. She tugged uncomfortably at the hem of the ridiculously short skirt, and took a deep breath. At least her father wasn't around to see her dressed like this--he was on yet another stakeout at the Camelot Motel. Grabbing her keys, she braced for the inevitable public humiliation and headed out the front door.
The children's ward had been half-heartedly decorated, with a slightly bedraggled tree, paper snowflakes, and plenty of candy canes. "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas" was playing on the loudspeaker, and Veronica thought she might get a cavity from the cloying sweetness of it all. She made a beeline for Parker, who looked as porntastic as Veronica felt in her skimpy elf outfit.
"Veronica! You made it!" Parker greeted her, pulling her into a hug. Now there was a habit that desperately needed breaking.
"Yep, I'm here...with bells on," Veronica replied with a forced smile.
"You look adorable, by the way. Aren't these costumes great?"
"They're certainly festive," she hedged.
"Santa isn't here yet, but I'm expecting him any minute. If you want to get rid of your bag, they said we could leave our things in the employee lounge."
Grateful to slip away, Veronica went into the empty break room. "It's for a good cause," she murmured under her breath. "It's for a good cause."
The door swung open behind her as she set down her bag, and she turned, thinking it was Parker. Instead, a too-skinny Santa stood there.
"Well, ho-ho-ho," he said.
Shit. She knew that voice. "Vinnie. What are you doing here?"
"What's it look like, dollface? I'm playing Santa. You remember how this all works, don't you? It's good PR for the sheriff to do this stuff."
She did remember, quite vividly, all the years her father had dressed up and gone to the hospital. Somehow, though, she hadn't expected Vinnie to carry on that particular tradition. "You don't really strike me as the Santa type," she told him.
"Oh, I dunno. It's all about knowing who's naughty and nice, right?" He managed to leer at her from behind the fake beard. "I gotta say, you look like a naughty girl, Veronica Mars."
She flushed and folded her arms protectively across her chest. "Santa better behave himself, or he's going to have his chestnuts roasted on an open fire," she said icily. "Let's get this over with."
"Aw, where's your Christmas spirit, babe?" he asked as she walked towards him and the door.
"Bah humbug," she muttered.
"Y'know where you're standing, don't you?" he asked, pointing up.
She looked and rolled her eyes at the sprig of mistletoe. "Kiss my ass," she said sweetly, before elbowing him in the gut and walking out.
If Veronica heard one more Christmas carol, she was going to scream. The three hours at the hospital had felt more like twelve, largely thanks to Vinnie ogling her at every turn. The guy was a sleaze, but even she had to admit he was a good Santa to the kids. It was probably due to his high tolerance for utter cheese.
Pulling up to a stoplight, she reached into her bag for her phone. Instead, her hand closed on what felt like a small box. She pulled it out and stared for a moment at the festively-wrapped package. The light turned green, and she hit the accelerator, one hand fumbling to tear open the box. Finally, she succeeded, and a tissue-covered object fell out, accompanied by a note.
She unfolded the paper, but all it said was, "To Veronica. From Santa."
Making short work of the tissue, she nearly ran off the road when she realized she was holding a pair of red and green fur-covered handcuffs. Yanking the car into a sharp u-turn, she headed for Vinnie's apartment.
When he answered the door, he was still wearing the Santa pants, although he had removed the coat, revealing a white undershit. All he needed was a beer in his hand, and he would be White Trash Santa.
He grinned when he saw her. "Come to sing me some Christmas carols, sweet cheeks?"
She held up the handcuffs. "I thought you might need these back, since I figure they're the only way you can keep a woman in your bed."
"It's sweet of you to be so concerned about my sex life," he replied with a smirk. "But trust me, baby, when I get a woman in bed, the last thing she wants to do is leave."
"TMI, Vinnie." She rattled the handcuffs. "Would you just take the damn things so I can go?"
"What's your hurry? Come have a Christmas drink with me."
"Is encouraging underage drinking also part of your new sheriff PR plan?"
"Only for you, Veronica. Only for you."
"I'm not having a drink with you, Vinnie."
"I'm okay with skipping the drink and going straight to the sex."
She tossed the cuffs in his face and spun on the heel of her pointy elf shoe, but before she could leave, he caught her by the elbow.
"Aw, come on, Veronica, it was a joke."
She shot a quick glare over her shoulder.
"Okay, maybe not entirely," he amended. "But you gotta learn to take a joke, babe, or you'll have an ulcer before you're 21."
"Your concern for my health is touching," she snapped, turning around. "But the only thing likely to give me an ulcer is having to deal with you."
He clutched his hands to his chest. "You wound me, Ronnie." He paused, and his expression grew serious. "Look, I know you hate me 'cause of the election, and probably a bunch of other reasons, but you gotta admit, we make a good team. We did today. We did with Mexico."
She stared up at him, trying to figure out where the next punchline was coming from. For once, though, he actually seemed sincere. "I guess you were a pretty good Santa," she grudgingly admitted.
He grinned. "And you were one smokin' hot elf," he told her, his hand softly stroking up her arm in a move she could only classify as a caress.
He took a step closer, and she asked, "Vinnie, what are you..."
Kissing her. Kissing her was what he was doing, and for the first moment, she was too shocked to push him away. Then the moment passed, and it turned out she didn't want to push him away, because for all his faults, Vinnie Van Lowe was a helluva kisser. Based on past interactions, she would have pegged him as sloppy and aggressive, but he was surprisingly gentle. When his hands slipped down to cup her ass, she finally came to her senses.
She'd always known Vinnie was an ass man--or at least an ass.
Breaking free of him, she asked, "What the hell was that?"
His smirk was off the charts. "That was a kiss, dollface. And a damn good one, if those little moans you were making are anything to go by. Which they totally are."
"Yeah, well, it's never going to happen again," she snapped. She wasn't sure who she was angrier at, herself or him.
"Gee, I don't know," she said sarcastically. "Maybe because you're a sleazy, slimy, scumbag who ran a smear campaign against my dad?"
"Well, yeah," he agreed. "But I'm also pretty damn good with my hands--" he slid them up her body until they grazed the sides of her breasts-- "and that was only the beginning of what I can do with my mouth--" he bent his head close and flicked out his tongue against the shell of her ear-- "and you have no idea what I can do with certain other body parts," he finished, pressing his hips to her so she could feel what seemed like a pretty impressive erection.
She couldn't help herself as another traitorous little moan escaped her lips. There were so very, very many reasons why this was wrong, but all she could think about at the moment was getting naked and getting tangled up in Vinnie Van Lowe.
When it registered that Veronica hadn't run screaming, that she was, in fact, leaning into him like he was the only thing holding her up, Vinnie seized his opportunity. He locked his arms around her waist and lifted, bringing her mouth to a much more convenient height for kissing. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing their bodies even closer, and it was hotter than any jerk-off fantasy he'd ever had.
In one last attempt at sanity, she gasped out, "This is a really bad idea." But her hands were already clutching at the hem of his t-shirt, and he decided she didn't really mean it.
He kicked the door shut and started making his way to the bedroom. It would have gone faster, but he kept stopping every few feet to press her agains the wall and kiss her thoroughly--among other explorations. By the time they reached the bed, his shirt was gone and the fly on the Santa pants was down. Her elf dress was unzipped and bunched around her waist, and he couldn't have said where he'd thrown her bra.
Setting her down on the mattress, he couldn't resist ogling a bit. He'd always thought Veronica had nice boobs, if a little small, and it was nice to have proof of their perky, bare glory. "Last chance," he whispered, bending down to kiss her. The girl had a damn addictive mouth.
"You were right about not needing handcuffs," she mumured back.
He grinned. "Yeah, but they might be fun later."
While she laughed, he quickly stripped off her dress, removing her underwear and shoes as he went. "You're the prettiest Christmas present I've ever unwrapped," he told her once he had her naked.
She blushed all over, and tugged at his pants. "When do I get to finish unwrapping you?"
"Patience, babe," he told her, sliding down the bed. "Like I said, I'm damn good with my hands--" he slipped one finger inside her-- "and you won't believe what I can do with my mouth," he added, kissing along the crease of her hip.
Parker was going to kill her. She had promised to drop off the elf costume no later than 8 p.m., so they wouldn't be charged for an extra day. It was pushing midnight, and Veronica was still naked in Vinnie's bed.
For the moment, she was alone. Vinnie had disappeared into the kitchen to make a snack after their last round of extremely energetic sex. The guy was remarkably flexible, with impressive stamina and a seemingly endless supply of condoms. He'd also made good on every boast, and Veronica had stopped counting her orgasms hours ago. They'd had sex in the shower, and on the hall floor after the shower. She was actually a little surprised he hadn't asked her to test out the kitchen counter.
She knew she should leave, make her escape while he was busy with food. Sooner or later, this was bound to get awkward. There was still the minor detail that she didn't really like Vinnie. All his smart-ass remarks--the feel of his mouth on her skin--the spy pens in her messenger bag--his fingers tracing words and shapes on her back--his campaign against her father... Shit. Her father.
Throwing off the covers, she climbed out of bed.
When Vinnie returned to the bedroom carrying a tray of fruit, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce, he half-expected Veronica to be gone. He wasn't sure he'd blame her if she was.
But she was still in his bed, the sheet pulled up over her chest. "You're still here," he commented lightly.
"I tried to leave," she admitted. "Got up, got dressed. Well, except for my bra. I made it as far as the front door."
He set down the tray, and sat next to her. "What stopped you?"
She pulled her hand out from beneath the sheets, and held up the handcuffs. "I found these," she replied with a wicked grin.
He grinned back, his hand slipping under the sheet to find her hip. "I thought I told you I didn't need 'em."
"Maybe not," she admitted, absently playing with the open bracelets. "Still..." she added, and before he realized it, they were cuffed together. "It seems a shame to let them go to waste."