Title: "Mars, Lamb, Bars."
Pairing: Veronica & Sheriff Lamb
Rating: M
Words Count: 3104
Disclaimer: I don't own Veronica Mars nor its characters. But I do own that story ^^
Summary: A little fantasy of what should have happen when Lamb had Veronica in lock up. Hope you like it!
Spoilers: Set while "Mars, Bars".

Warnings: Humor, adult language, sexual situations.

"Mars, Lamb, Bars."

Veronica knew Sheriff Lamb was in the hallway seconds before she heard the clinking metal of his keys. She also knew that he was on duty for tonight's watch; she had eavesdropped on him talking to his deputies during the afternoon. He had proposed himself for the late night shift. All in all, that meant two things. For starter, he was going to annoy the hell out of her with bad wisecracks all night long. Secondly, it seemed it would be the perfect time for her to put in practice her new theory about tolerance for jerks.

From her vantage point on her cot, she saw Don Lamb walking to her cell slowly; his thumbs tucked into his belt, a pose he would adopt each time he was about to instigate a séance of witty comebacks with her. Truth be told, the attitude suited him well and somehow, she found it was kind of reassuring to have him walked up to her in that cocky stance. It was something familiar in her ever changing life; some people knew to stay true to themselves, she thought bitterly, her recent rupture with Logan still fresh in mind. At least, she knew what to expect from Sheriff Lamb; verbal assault.

He stopped in front of her cell with a strangely pleased expression -undoubtedly from the fact that he had her in lock up. Veronica stood on an elbow on her cot. "Alone at last," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

Lamb looked at his watch and made a 'tssk' sound. "It's so sad that you're missing Valentine's Day. That boyfriend of yours must have his heart crashed into hundred of little pieces." He said from his side of the bars.

He was grinning that unnerving smirk of his. The one smirk she had wanted to rip off his face so many times before.

"But being here with you Deputy makes it so worthy of missing the big fiesta," she replied with a hint of naughtiness.

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "So you finally admit you like me. I shouldn't be surprise though, all those times you barged in my office so we could have a word… It was just unresolved sexual tension for you, wasn't it?"

The man was so full of himself. She snorted unladylike and put her head back on her pillow. "Please, kill me now."

He chuckled slightly and plopped down onto the duty officer's chair, preparing himself for the long night shift. He unfolded the local newspapers and started reading it.

Veronica laid back on her cot, preparing herself for another intense session of listening to the sounds of her own breathing. She had been bored out of her mind all day long and had quickly come to the conclusion that living in jail was thoroughly overrated by Medias and Prison Break's fans. She exhaled loudly as she tried to get comfortable. She rolled to one side -from facing the brick wall- to the other side -facing Lamb; it really wasn't a win-win situation.

She pouted slightly while glancing at Lamb; he was completely engrossed in the obituaries, or the sports, or whatever he was into. Boring. Five minutes ago, she thought he couldn't even read and then he came and started successfully ignoring her by doing just that. Sure it was a figure of speaking. Lamb certainly had to know how to read, the man was a police officer after all, and that meant he had to somehow write reports, and writing reports generally leads to reading reports. 'God, even my thoughts are uninteresting.' She had to remedy to that.

"I didn't know you could read," she said, trying to get a rise out of an abnormally quiet Don Lamb.

"You'd be surprise at what I can do," he answered fractions of second later not giving up the article he was reading.

"Ah… Just what I needed; another completely obnoxious man thinking he is a god in bed," Veronica mumbled, loud enough for him to understand. Lamb opened his mouth to respond but she cut him right away. "Don't say it; I already know you're going to spill some crack about me screaming under you on this cot. Not gonna happen. Gross!"

Okay. She had effectively stopped some smart-mouth comment going out. However, he wasn't ready for the flashes of images her words sent through him. Having cutie-Mars here in the slammer was beginning to make him slowly lost it. Wait a second; cutie? Where did that thought come from? "What was that?" he chose to say cautiously, trying to hide the inner turmoil he was struggling with.

"You heard me. Why do men constantly brag about how good they are under the covers, or how the last chick they got drunk and successfully bring home was a great fuck?"

"Tsk, tsk. Such language, Mars. You kiss your father with that mouth?"

"Why no man can answer that one?"

He shrugged. "You've only been with schoolboys. Not every man kiss and tell."

She turned her head back toward the ceiling -well more of the upper cot- seemingly lost in her thoughts. For an instant, he wondered if she was pondering his statement. He studied her discretely from the corner of his newspaper. He had to admit that she was a cutie. She was petite, blonde, with breasts of a good size and a nice little ass, he noted. But she was also a wicked smart-mouth and an irritating bitch. In his mind, Veronica Mars was to equal with trouble, not cutie.

"You would make a bad P.I." she stated aware of his eyes on her.

He snorted, closed the newspapers and turned on the radio; maybe it would help to tune her off. Lamb stretched his legs, put his hands behind his head, closed his eyes and listened to some old country song playing on a local radio channel. He recognized Pat Woods' lyrics to Lonesome cowboy and couldn't help but hum along with the song.

Veronica shot up and bolded towards the bars, her hands griping the bars. "Turn that awful thing off!"

Lamb cocked an eye open and smirked at her. He slowly sat his chair back down on its four feet all the while looking at her devilishly. He turned up the volume. "… Lonesome cowboy, you're a long, long way from home..." he sang along.

God she hated that song. I reminded her of Sunday late morning's Lucky Luke episodes when she was about nine years old. Back then, a younger Deputy Lamb would sit watching the adventures of the lonesome cowboy with her. She shook her thoughts away and frowned at the grinning man. "I don't want to break your fantasies into pieces but you're nowhere near being a cowboy… Putting your thumbs in you belt is hardly a cowboy's habit," she continued, trying to get a rise out of him so he would shut the hell up.

But like so many plans in her life, that one let her down too. His smile widened and he stood up, putting his Billy stick out of his belt and bringing it to his lips, as if it was a microphone. He sang more forcefully. "'Cause this poor lonesome cowboy prefers a horse for company…"

She snorted at the lyrics, "Yeah, right."

Lamb walked up to her, whistling softly, his amused gaze locked with her furious one. He stopped his advance right in front of her. He rested his right arm over his head, lounging on the bars inches from her. Smirking at Veronica he chuckled softly at her frustration. He could see her hands tightly gripping the bars, her knuckles slowly turning white.

Then, he reported his gaze on her face. Her eyes were throwing daggers at him, her cheeks were flushed, and her lips were tightly closed. The last chorus was about to start and he opened his mouth again with in mind the objective of bringing more irritation in those blue orbs.

Veronica's gaze felt upon his moving lips. Lips. That word rang a bell in the deep of her overdriven mind. She realised that he was standing close, really close. So close, in fact, that she could smelt the male smell of his cologne. So close that she could felt the heat radiating off of him.

She surprised him by letting go of the metal bars, griping his uniform, and pulling him to her, her lips crushing onto his and closing the space between them. For a second, he felt her demanding tongue battling for entrance.

That respectively and effectively shut him up and freaked her out.

'Ok, Veronica. Don't freak out. You're kissing Lamb. Don't panic...'

Lamb forced her away, looking as shocked as she felt. "What was that?" she heard him say.

'At least he's not singing anymore,' she thought as she scanned his face for any sign of reaction to the new development. She knew she would hear about what just happened for years to come. Never would he let it drop.

The last thing she expected was for Lamb, instead of drawing back and throwing some retort about how she couldn't resist him, to grip both sides of her face with his hands, holding it passionately and letting his improvised microphone fall onto the floor with a clatter. Unable to control herself in the array of confusion that she felt, Veronica stood on tiptoes, wrapped her arms as best as she could between the bars and around his neck, pulling him closer to her.

When they separated, all she could do was search his face for any sign of mockery. There was none. In fact, as they both stood unmoving and panting for much needed air, all she could understand was her own raw need for more, and how his eyes were suddenly so very darker than usual.

That was when she became aware that her hand was still on the back of his neck. She slowly drew her hand away, running her fingers along his jaw. Her eyes recorded her hand's path over every clenched muscle in that side of his face, and as she reluctantly pulled her hand away from him, his face was drawn with it until it was stopped by jail bars.

Lamb cleared his throat before speaking, breaking the silence: "What was that?" He briefly glanced in her blue ocean of eyes, but soon found himself unable to tear his eyes from her tantalizing lips once again. "Veronica?"

Veronica couldn't look anywhere but in the dept of those immensely dark eyes. God. She'd always like how he pronounced her name, slightly stressing each letter. Before she knew what she was saying, she spoke her thoughts out aloud: "I love how you say my name." She blushed when she realized her mishap. She bent her head, breaking the eyes contact she had with him.

"I like saying it," he said. Then, once she looked back up at him, he added, "Veronica."

She breathed in sharply, having come to a decision. She gathered together all the courage she could find and slowly teased him with the following words. "Then, how about you come in the slammer to have a word with me?" She was unable to keep her fingers from beckoning him. This time there was no small talk. No bickering.

"I say," he started slowly with a small, teasing and so sexy smirk forming on his lips –and she decided right that moment that she would never associate one without the other- "that this lonesome cowboy wouldn't mind some company tonight."

With that being said, Lamb walked to the door, unlocking it. When he stepped into the cell, he let his eyes wander over Veronica's body, taking in every little details about her; her chest was panting forcefully, her flush cheeks redder than normal, her slightly open lips seemingly waiting for his own to kiss it.

Their eyes rose up from devouring each other's bodies and locked; they moved towards one another and met together in the center of the room. Their mouths met again in a kiss so filled with hunger and desire that it wrenched low moans from both of them. Don Lamb dug his hands firmly into her hips, bringing her slight body soundly against his and thrilling at her rapidly beating heart against his chest. Veronica grabbed his head between her hands, and he couldn't help his own hands from reaching down to grab her small ass and lifted her off the floor, kissing her mouth, lips and sucking on her tongue fervently as she locked her legs around his hips.

Veronica thought briefly that she should fight this, fight her need for the sometime-enemy, sometime-friend Sheriff in her arms, but her inner conflict was short and soon her hands were running through his hair, lightly caressing the back of his neck, holding him to her.

On the other hand, the thought never crossed Lamb's mind that he should fight this. There was nothing like feeling the response of a woman, of that woman. For many years their mean of communication had been hostility. Now that her body was pressed against his, he regretted those times when they could have done something much more entertaining.

Her fate was sealed the moment she felt his firm body against hers, thigh-to-thigh, and her soft breasts crushed against his well-defined chest even through the multiple layers of their clothing. Her entire was set aflame from the kisses, and wherever their bodies touched, she melted.

Lamb's mouth left hers only to trail wet kisses down her throat, drawing whimpers from Veronica. Her soft moans made him tear his mouth away from her slender neck long enough to look into her eyes. He still held her head by the hair and searched her eyes for the tiniest ray of doubt. He found none. His face was serious as he stared intently at her. "Are you sure about this, Mars?"

"Having second thoughts, cowboy?"

"Don't want you to run crying into your papa's arms. I like my ass without bullet holes."

She smirked at him, and he felt it was the biggest turn-on of his entire life, but still, he didn't kiss her right back. He needed to hear her say that she wanted this as much as he did. He wanted her to assure him that there would be no tears, no bloodsheds, nor gunshots, after tonight events.

"Haven't you notice that I'm your prisoner, Deputy? I'm not going anywhere."

His smile grew until it was a perfect replica of her devilish one. "Well then Mars, let's have some fun," and he kissed again.

DoVe

He was almost asleep with a naked Veronica Mars tangled in his limbs, when her voice pulled him out of his sweet comfort. He opened his eyes and looked down at her blond head. She was drawing imaginary figures on his chest and frankly, it was starting to tickle him to no end. He gently grabbed her hand, pulling it to his lips and kissing it so she would stop her torture of him. "You were saying?" He asked.

"I don't like that kind of music," she stated pitifully.

"It's too bad coz' I like it," he responded, trying to get a rise out of her. He loved it when she got mad, always had.

"Change it," she demanded, it sound more of an order than a mild request.

He smiled inwardly, his hand caressing the cooling skin of her arm; he grabbed his discarded shirt not far away on the floor and put in on her so she wouldn't get too cold. "No," he answered.

"Pretty please?" She pleaded.

Truth be told, he wouldn't mind turning off the music himself, he just didn't want to let go of her in his arms. "I'm not some schoolboy at your feet fulfilling all of your desires. I'm your keeper. Behave and go to sleep." He looked at her as she pout.

While he was talking, she moved one finger slowly over his abs. She returned his steady gaze through her lashes and decided that she would toy with him a little. "Is that how this thing is gonna work? I speak, you don't listen to me?" She put one hand fully on his chest and rose in a sitting position; it wasn't easy, them being on her small cot. "Maybe it's not worth it…" she began to stand up but was stopped by a hand grabbing softly her forearm. She looked down at him; he was frowning and scanning her face, trying to read her.

"That's what you think?" He replied, his voice lower than it was second ago, and for a moment, she understood that he felt hurt.

After all those years, she had finally succeeded at hurting Don Lamb, but she would never have guessed she would felt bad for it. His question was genuine but she could muster enough courage to answer it right away. She's never was the first to speak truths in a relationship. "I say, what do you think?" she retorted warily.

Lamb's gaze faltered from her face, sliding down over her body. From her long wavy blond hair cascading upon her shoulder, to her left hand gripping his shirt and hiding her breasts from his stare. She was a sight; soft curves and sharp edges, wonderful. He looked back up, trying to gauge her feelings; she looked apprehensive. "I think this thing is worth a try."

After some time, she laid back down. "Yeah, it may be worth a try," she finally agreed, smiling shyly.

He smiled back at her, hugging her closely to him, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to relax. His grin deepened when she snuggled against him, trying to get comfortable. In the background, they could hear a sappy country singer singing his heart out.

"And Deputy?" she said after another long break.

"Still here," he retorted.

"Don't tell me to behave."

At that he smiled once again. Before he finally succumbed to sleep, he muttered against her hair, "Don't change one bit, Mars."

A/N: That's it! Hope you liked it. Please let me know… I may have a little epilogue in mind. Cheers !