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Learning to dance.
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Your arms snaked tighter around her thin waist, swaying your body with her, breathing in her unique scent of sweet shampoo, and something like danger. You hadn't held a woman this gently for years; hadn't held her for even longer. But here you both are, swinging your bodies along to the slow music. You'd love to be able to say this wasn't because of a case, but, contrary to popular opinion, you don't want to lie. You needed a faux girlfriend, and she was the first person to come to your mind. Although many would say she wouldn't be caught dead doing this, you knew she would, because it was to catch a bad guy, and she'd do anything to help put someone guilty away.
Pulling her closer into your arms you tried to not notice her luscious blonde locks whispering down her back or her black dress hugging her body warmly. You tried to concentrate on the suspect who was now dancing silently with some thirty-year-old redhead, but that just proved harder and harder to do with Veronica Mars resting her head on your shoulder. You hated how natural this all felt, hated how happy it made you that your hands were resting on her waist, hated that with here in your arms you felt happier than you had for years. And more than anything you hated how clichéd you'd become.
You twirled her gently and her radiant smile spilled across her face, causing you to grin also. With her blonde hair belatedly swirling around her and her laughter causing your heart to stutter this was sure beginning to feel like a date; worse, this was beginning to feel like love. Pulling her back to you, you continued to dance, ignoring your previous thoughts. After all, you were NOT in love with Veronica Mars. You didn't go to sleep imagining her beside you, or picture her on your closed eyelids when you kissed, nor did you miss the days when she smiled at you like you were her hero. No, you didn't love Veronica Mars, because you're Don Lamb and Don Lamb doesn't love. But then again you're Don Lamb, and you're pretty sure that also makes you a liar.
With her eyes closed softly you watched Veronica's smile and tried to not think about the tears she'd shed before you years prior. She'd moved on, it was time for you to also. She was remarkable, truly you admired her. She'd rebuilt a life for herself, pulled herself up from the ground when no one else cared to, developed one hell of an attitude, and yet stayed true to herself. You really did have a lot in common.
She smiled up at you and her blue orbs seemed to glisten, you just couldn't resist. Ducking your head lower you placed you lips upon hers, finally claiming her lips; the same lips that had told countless lies, smeared your name too many times to count. After a moment's hesitation Veronica let her self kiss back and slid her eyes shut. You wrapped your arms even tighter around her and deepened your kiss, half expecting someone to show up and kill you soon, someone like Keith or Weevil or Logan or Cliff or Wallace or even Vinnie, who loved her and hated you. When her hands buried themselves into your hair and pulled you closer you resisted the urge to comment and simply smiled against her lips.
Her head now pressed against your chest and your lips tasting of watermelon, you glanced around the club and located the suspect drinking at the bar solo. You rested your head upon Veronica's and smiled like you hadn't for years. She was finally in your arms, finally smiling because of something you did rather than smirking because of something you didn't. And so what if this was beginning to feel like a date, or maybe even love? Because maybe it really was.