Disclaimer: It's just RT's toy box, I'll put 'em all back when I'm done. But I won't eat my cauliflower!
A/N: I've had this little guy hanging around for awhile now and I decided he needed to be set free. It takes place generally after season two. No big spoilers.

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The door swung shut, obscuring his view of her retreating form. That was his favorite sight of her: leaving his office. For more than one reason.

As that thought paraded across his mind, he slammed shut his desk drawer. "Godammit!" He hadn't meant to utter the curse aloud. He pushed his palms against his closed eyes, trying to blacken her out.

Of course, it didn't work. Instead, she was burned there, staring back at him from across his desk. Her chin was lifted up, aristocratically. Her smug smile made her look more sexy than pretty. Her arms crossed over the front of her too-small tee shirt only attracted his eyes... south. And the knowledge that she got a rise out of besting him, well that served only to fuel his anger. Or lust. Both. He cursed again.

"Sir?" came the deputy from the door.

"What the hell do you want? Don't you know how to knock?" Don Lamb roared. Sacks had the good sense to look remiss, even if he didn't feel it. He had knocked.

"There's a call from downtown. I was just informing you that I was going to get it. Deputy Charrie is the only one out here now."

"Fine," the Sheriff began before changing his mind and plucking his keys from the bookcase behind him and standing. "Never mind. You stay. I'll go. Street?"

"Tenth and Chamberlain. Domestic."

Lamb pushed past the deputy and stomped down the hall toward the front door. He was out of earshot when his "loyal" deputy called him an asshole.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

As he was about to get into the cruiser, juggling a cup and coffee, his keys, and a bag holding a cherry Danish, he saw Logan Echoll's monstrosity of an SUV pull into the space beside him.

Far past the type of mood that usually incited him to trade barbs with the smart-ass rich kid, he tried to duck into his black-and-white and avoid the need. Of course, that was until Veronica Mars swung down out of the passenger side. He saw that she hadn't changed since earlier.

Blue jeans that she probably had to paint on clung to her legs, long for someone at least a foot short than himself. A simple black cotton tee shirt. Something that every other girl in the world probably had in their wardrobe. But, on her, it was forbidden. Oh, to see it peeling away from her skin, inch by inch. Revealing some sort of frilly, pink, anti-Veronica bra. Or maybe...

"Wow, Sheriff. If you want his autograph, you can just ask," Veronica sniped, intruding on his thoughts. He let go the breath of air that had constricted his chest.

"Or, just have me arrested. That's one thing you're actually good at," Logan put in. He wrapped his arm around her hips, pulling him possessively toward him and opening the door to the convenience store. She laughed up at something he said to her that had fallen below Lamb's hearing. The blonde glanced back at Lamb and laughed out loud. The sound cut off as the door swung shut, leaving him there, foolishly watching them through the glass.

Angrily, he tossed the bag onto the passenger seat and got into the car with a resounding slam of the door. "That was great, asshole. You didn't even answer them!" He berated himself as he swung into a hard reverse and sped out of the lot. At least he knew he wouldn't be pulled over.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

As usual, he was late leaving the office. Though he had probably... make that definitely... earned his reputation for being a jackass, he hadn't earned it for not doing his job. It was just unfortunate about the Kane murder.

And Veronica's rape.

And Woody Goodman.

He slammed his closed first down onto his desk, but at least this time he didn't curse out loud. He was starting to feel crazy. Well, you deserve it for all you've done to that family. A niggling little voice prodded.

At that, he pushed back from his desk and left the Department in the hands of the deputies.

As soon as he climbed into the cab of his black Silverado, he pulled his uniform shirt off, balled it and tossed it onto the floor. He let out a long breath and studied his reflection in the rear view mirror. His face looked a little wan. He needed to get out into the sun or something more often.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and started the truck up.

A few turns later, he found himself across the street from the Sunset Cliffs. "This is a bad idea," he said aloud as he turned the engine off. "And, if Keith finds me, he'll kill me."

That said, he hunched down into his seat, waiting for Veronica to come home.

He didn't have to wait long.

The Echoll's kid swung into her lot. He was driving slowly, making an unnecessary three-point turn before parking. Lamb remembered that move. It meant that Logan didn't want to give her up just yet. But, if it was close to her curfew, Keith could look out and see the SUV and Ickle Ronnie wouldn't get in trouble. Lamb rolled his eyes and murmured beneath his breath, "Amateurs."

Finally, the engine shut off. They didn't readily get out of the vehicle. Lamb could only imagine what was going on in the front seat. What had probably already gone on in the back seat. But, who was he kidding, Echoll's lived at the Grand and was sans parents. At least Veronica got laid in style. He sucked in another breath and held it, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. This was becoming a very, very stupid idea, indeed.

He watched as Logan got out first, then went around and opened Veronica's door. He offered his hand, with an overly dramatic gesture and she took it, giggling. Lamb snorted derisive laughter. Come on, Mars! I thought you were smarter than to fall for that school boy crap.

But, they proceeded, arm in arm to her door. They entered together and shut the door. Just when Lamb was about to give up his stupid little plan and leave, they came back out together. Before Logan could get to far, Veronica caught up to him, grasped his arm, glanced around and shoved him against the wall next to her apartment window. Lamb grinned. Aggressive little bitch.

He watched as she pushed her knee between Logan's legs and wrapped herself around him, tugging his face down to hers. Finally she broke away from him, and with one last exchange of words, he headed back to his vehicle and she went back into her apartment.

Lamb hunkered way down into his seat as Logan pulled out and headed south. He tried very hard to ignore the shit-eating grin on the kid's face as he passed. Once he was out of sight, Lamb started the truck and drove around to the back of the Sunset Cliffs.

It was a long shot, to be sure, but Lamb just had to see for himself. He was tormented and the bitch deserved it for being a tease. At least, that's how Lamb justified it. Again and again.

He parked a safe distance away and climbed down out of the truck. He found her room easily from the courtyard. The windows were stained glass and the light shone brightly from within. And he could see her through her half-opened window.

Which meant, if she looked, she'd see him. He ducked close to the building, out of her sight line, but keeping that tiny crack in his. This is stupid. Stupid. Stupid. The insistent voice continued. But, some threshold had been crossed that afternoon in his office. She deserved it. And, it wasn't like he was hurting her.

She stopped passing the window for what felt to Lamb like forever. He was about to give up, when she reappeared, wearing a white bathrobe, her wet hair bound in a towel.

After sitting at what Lamb assumed was her desk for a few minutes, she finally stood and removed the towel. She stood, bent over smoothing something through her hair with her fingers. She was facing away from her and he watched with bated breath as the terry cloth hem slid slowly up her thighs. When she stood straight again, Lamb had to let go another breath that he hadn't realized he was holding. He throbbed against his uniform khakis. What are you, twelve? Get a hold of yourself! He silently berated himself.

She disappeared from view for a couple of minutes, and when she returned to his sight, her hair was dry and she was carrying clothes. He hardly dared to watch, hating himself for doing it at the same time. She was visible to him only in profile.

She untied the sash from the robe and let it slide from her bare shoulders, revealing her small breasts, standing to attention. Her belly was flat and curved into her small hips and those damn long legs. As she stepped into her panties, sliding them up her legs, he could practically see every last sweet bit of her. He bite his lip to keep from crying out.

She reached up to pull her tank top over her head, down over her bare breasts and skimming that smooth stomach.

Lamb choked out a gasp and turned away, feeling his way along the wall of the apartment building. His knees were weak and while he could hardly wait to relieve himself, he alternately felt like dropping to his knees and vomiting. You've known her since she was twelve! Her dad was your mentor! You're sick and sad, Don Lamb! That niggling voice raged louder than ever as he opened the door to his truck and collapsed into the seat.

He started the Silverado right away and sped toward his own apartment.

A/N 2: This is different terrain for me, so don't send out the attack poodles if I'm not so good at it. ConCrit would be greatly appreciated!

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