A/N: Thank you so much for all of the kind reviews! I'm trying to keep up with this story, but I just started classes again, so it might take me a bit! I've worked out where I want it to go, and hopefully that helps me to press on! This chapter sees the beginning of an MI case that will continue through most of the story, but rest assured, there will be plenty of MaDi bonding, fluff, and eventually love (obviously). I hope you enjoy!
As always, the Veronica Mars universe, magical and marshmallow-y as it is, belongs to Rob Thomas and not even a little bit to me :/
Dick awoke the next morning from one of the most comfortable nights he'd had in a long time. Mac's smiling face swam into his slightly foggy mind, and he remembered in a second everything they had talked about last night.
After their little heart-to-heart, they had stayed up for another two hours, alternating between laughing over happy memories of Cassidy and comforting each other when those memories inevitably turned sour. Dick lied there, thinking about all the things she had told him, realizing that it was the most they had ever talked. It might actually be the most meaningful conversation he had ever had, maybe even surpassing some of his and Logan's discussions.
And of course, it was pretty hard to get the image of her with a fucking nipple ring off his mind. Maybe lying there next to him. Maybe looking at him with those hooded, big blue eyes he had seen last night when she kissed his cheek…
No.
Even though he knew it was the worst possible time to risk their budding friendship with something more, Dick couldn't stop the warm buzzing that ran through his body at the image.
He disentangled himself lithely from the sheets and grabbed a pair of sweatpants off the chair on his way out of the room. A shirt didn't seem necessary – it never really did. He padded down the hall to the combination office and storage room where he had set Mac up last night, wincing a little at the chill on the hardwood floor as he went. He pushed open the door as quietly as possible, eyeing the empty bunch of blankets on the pull-out couch, and heard the shower running in the ensuite.
He had to fight with everything in him not to go further into the room, and absently questioned the impulse all the way down the stairs. He started a huge pot of extra bold coffee, letting the aroma breathe energy into his languid body. The fridge was pretty much devoid of anything but alcohol, and somehow he divined that Mac wouldn't be satisfied with that kind of breakfast. Rummaging around the spacious kitchen, he discovered a pink pastry box sitting on the counter. Logan must have picked up some stuff for breakfast when he went to get Mac's cookies. It was one of the distinct perks of Logan's perpetually-famished girlfriend being around – he always made sure there was something resembling food around when she was coming. Dick tried really hard not to think about what made Ronnie so hungry when she was at the beach house. It was a constant struggle.
Still, Dick grabbed a twenty and jogged down to the farmer's market that was set up on the beach walk every morning this time of year. He returned ten minutes later, arms loaded with bags of fruit, unsure of what kind of baked goods would mesh with Mac's vegan diet. He thought it was a genuinely ridiculous lifestyle choice, but he saw no reason to make her feel less welcome at his house than she probably already did.
"Woah there, Martha Stewart. How did you even know where the kitchen knives were?" Logan's particularly mumbly voice floated down the stairs. A disheveled Veronica snorted behind him, but she perked up considerably when she spotted the now-full carafe.
"Ha ha." Dick responded, handing her a mug before returning to slicing the cantaloupe he had been mutilating. "It took a minute, but I found it eventually. Like you're Emeril. Between you and Ronnie, I'm surprised neither of you have scurvy, for Christ's sake."
"Excuse you, coffee comes from a fruit, technically. That totally counts." V bumped him while filling her mug.
"It really, really doesn't." Mac's bright voice came from the landing. Her hair was made darker by the dampness, making her face look even fairer and the flush in her cheeks stand out a little more. She was wearing the same clothes as last night, minus the boots. Dick fought back the disappointment that he hadn't gotten to see the way the green "trust me, I'm rich" tee he had given her last night looked against her upper thighs.
Wow, he was totally fucked.
Ronnie's head turned in surprise toward her friend, while Logan just smiled into his coffee as though Mac's presence totally explained Dick's domestic turn. Which, he supposed, it did.
"Q, I thought I was meeting you at the office before your nooner."
Dick choked a little on his coffee, hating himself for his reaction and hating Logan for the enjoying it so much. Dick flipped him off to no avail as Mac rolled her eyes.
"If you mean my twelve o'clock lecture, then yes, that was the plan. But we drank a little more than you two lightweights did last night and I didn't want to drive back to the apartment. I'll just follow you to MI from here."
She got a travel mug from the cabinet as Dick handed her a plate. She smiled at him comfortably before piling on fruit and stealing the other half of Veronica's croissant. The couple watched the exchange with equal interest, Logan with a look of utter joy and satisfaction, Veronica with one of slack-jawed disbelief.
Mac finally noticed the silence after a moment and looked up from her breakfast. "What?"
Ronnie shook her head, deciding it was better to analyze this strange development alone with Mac at a later date. "Nothing, I just expected hell to freeze over before you voluntarily spent the night with Dick Casablancas."
Mac didn't miss the hurt that flashed in Dick's eyes at that. She leaned in, eyes dark. "Oh believe me, Bond, if you'd been there, you would be volunteering for all sorts of things too. Loudly."
Logan burst out laughing while V and Dick sputtered.
An hour later, Mac and Veronica parked their respective cars half a block from Mars Investigations. Mac said a silent "thank you" that Keith was in Santa Barbara chasing a bail jumper; she did not want her part time employer to overhear his daughter's snarky interrogation into her sex life. Mac was sure she'd just turn a never-before-seen shade of red and disappear into the binary world forever.
"Could you have driven any slower? Jesus Mac, it's like you were trying to hit red lights on the way here." Veronica shouted as they ascended the stairs to the second floor office.
"The best laid plans…"
V rolled her eyes. "Mac, please, put me out of my misery. I need to know what happened last night!"
If it had been anyone else, Mac would have quipped back that it was a want, not a need, but Veronica genuinely did need to know. Information was her lifeblood as much as technology was Mac's. She could hardly deny a fellow addict.
But she could fuck with her, just a little.
"I'm surprised you didn't hear us, actually." Mac said glibly as she booted up her monitors.
V made a melodramatic retching sound from her desk that Mac couldn't help but laugh at. "Look, Bond, nothing happened. We drank a little, played never have I ever, and talked. I may or may not have played him because I wanted to clear that weird tension he's had with me. It worked, a little at least. I no longer feel like he wants to throw woodchips in my face when I walk through the door, like he used to do in elementary school." It had only happened once, and Mac had just happened to be in the line of fire. His actual target, she remembered warmly, had been a boy in Dick's original grade level that kept making fun of Cassidy's "girly" name.
Veronica was eyeing her suspiciously, but that was the truth. Not really the whole truth, but the closest approximation that Mac was willing to risk at the moment. And it was definitely close enough to be convincing. "Alright, Mac-attack, if you say so. I just…I just want you to be careful. We both know Dick. And I know he's changed, grown up, whatever, but it still seems like a bit of a gamble. Just know that I always put a taser in your backpack, should you ever need it."
Mac rolled her eyes, but was grateful for Veronica's fierce protectiveness, not for the first time. "Yeah, about that. What if I ever go into a federal building with that thing by accident? I could get arrested!"
V waved that away with a little flip of her blond hair. "Then you will be a true member of the Mars Investigations team."
"Still, I don't think –" a less-than-gentle rapping on the door broke Mac's protest in two.
V went to the door to let in their ten o'clock, and both girls stood with poorly-hidden shock at the person standing there.
She loped into the office with light steps, as though she were afraid the old linoleum flooring would devalue her Louboutins. Her pert nose turned up slightly as she glanced around the dated office, and she promptly declined a seat or beverage. At a bit of a loss for the first time possibly ever, Veronica came behind the desk to stand shoulder to shoulder with Mac.
"Girls, let's not pretend this is anything less than excruciating." Mac was somehow not at all surprised to detect a British accent in her curt tone. It lent an even greater gravitas to her already imposing person. "I'm Stacia Kissinger – "
"We know who you are." They interrupted in unison, morbidly pleased at how it seemed to upbraid Stacia.
She covered it with the practiced grace of someone who is either of charmed breeding or who frequently interacts with the seedy and smarmy. In her case, both.
"Well then, you know what I do. I have a client who requires the services of Mars Investigations. They are being blackmailed for a small fortune, with preposterous but potentially devastating information. " Kissinger's bread and butter was extraordinarily lucrative legal disputes. She was basically Olivia Pope for Neptune's Fortune 500, which meant she was doused in both cash and corruption. Rumor had it that she was the brains behind Luke Halderman Senior's most prestigious court cases, as well as a host of slander and libel cases that quickly endeared her to the elite. From solicitation to gross negligence, if you had a problem and upwards of seven figures to spare, Stacia was your girl.
Which all begged the question… "Why are you here, Ms. Kissinger?" Veronica blurted before Mac had the chance to ask the same question.
The statuesque woman picked a nonexistent piece of lint off of her Prada suit before flashing a conspiratorial grin. It made Mac very uncomfortable, but she tried not to show it. "An excellent question, Ms. Mars. The sad truth is that, since my clients are hoping to avoid legal proceedings all together, their situation calls for a more…unique approach. Mars Investigations has garnered quite a reputation for its efficiency as well as its discretion, despite its extremely humble origins."
The word sounded like an insult on her tongue, which is clearly exactly how she meant it.
"Look, ladies, I'd really prefer to spend as little time here as possible. Here's all the information my clients are willing to provide. They'd like this handled as quickly and quietly as possible. They do not take these accusations lightly, and they'll make it well worth your while."
She passed them a file with a perfectly manicured hand. Mac took it and flipped it open. "Wait, you're not going to tell us their names? How the hell are we supposed to figure out who would want to blackmail them without their names?" Mac asked incredulously.
Stacia smirked at them again. "Well, Ms. MacKenzie, that's just it. My clients want absolutely no trace of their names on paper. So I'm going to say this once, and once only."
She let the suspense build, almost like Veronica would have. God, was everyone in this shady world so dramatic? It wasn't like there were actual cloaks and daggers involved in that many of the cases they worked.
"Well?" V urged, rapidly losing patience. Ironic.
"It's Stewart and Rose Manning."