Set at the end of 'Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner'. It's sorta Lamb/Veronica. Really, really short. But I think it would be a cute scene. I sadly own nothing.
Lamb sat in the police cruiser watching the house. He'd seen the space that Grace had been kept in, and once again was actually grateful for Veronica Mars. Without her he'd have never known, and this young girl would have continued going through hell. Lamb would never subject another to that pain because he knew first hand what it was like. So he sat ominously, making his presence obvious and menacing. He wondered how the Kane kid and Veronica knew about Grace. Lamb knew Duncan's name – who didn't? – but it was easier to think of him as the Kane kid. As Duncan he was Veronica's love, he was the guy thirteen-year-old Veronica had gushed about, who had broken her heart; as Duncan he was personal. As the Kane kid he was a rich 09er legacy and that was it; a name upon a pile of wealth. Being after midnight the only sources of light were the moon, stars and streetlamps. Even a sheriff jumps when something suddenly knocks on the window. Lamb snapped his head towards the window and unlocked the car door. Veronica Mars climbed silently in. She had two cups of coffee in her hand, one of which she passed to Lamb, and he couldn't help but notice she'd remembered how he liked it.
They sat in silence for many long minutes; the hush stretching between them like a blanket. Veronica had words she wanted to say, questions she wanted to ask, but she couldn't think how to. So she eventually settled on what would be easy for almost anyone else, but for her, to say to him, near impossible. "Thank You." Lamb looked over at Veronica surprised. Veronica Mars was thanking him, Don Lamb. He wanted to ask for what, but refrained. Instead the words that slipped from his mouth were "It's my job." Veronica nodded and smiled tightly before opening the car door and beginning to step out. She felt a hand on her arm, getting her attention and she glanced at Don. He didn't remove his hand, nor did he speak any words, but she got it. And so Veronica climbed back into the car, closed the door and continued to sip her coffee.
Neither is quite sure exactly when Lambs hand moved from Veronicas arm to her hand. Neither is quite sure when they began leaning closer, or how Veronicas head ended on Lambs firm chest. Neither will say they enjoyed the others scent. Neither is ready to admit what drove their actions that night. Neither will confess to stealing glances at their foe out of anything but spite. But they both know roughly what happened that night. Something changed, maybe it was them. Or maybe nothing really changed; perhaps they just finally accepted that change. And each knowing is just as good as confessing it. Because they know, and that's all that matters.