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Mars on the Cusp of Vegas

A Veronica Mars / BtVS Crossover

by

STFarnham

Lancer47

Chapter 9

Veronica Tries to Trim her Decision Tree

A/N: Warning! Danger Will Robinson, foul language ahead! Some quotes from one of Veronica's favorite movies will knock the socks off your grandma, so be warned.

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-August 2006-

I sat down at one of those large corner booths they have down in the coffee shop. Mac, Buffy, Dawn and Willow were already there, having a major discussion about, what else, clothes. Now I am just as shallow as the rest of my sisters when it comes to my body – both the covering and the emphasizing are subjects near and dear. But still, now? Now, while the the end of the world stares us in the face, they're worried about fashion? About how much should be spent for outfits that might only be worn a half-dozen times? Should we insist on genuine silk for a fleeting style? Just what do I plan to wear to the apocalypse anyway?

Well dear reader, I have to admit on joining the discussion, wholeheartedly. It was a way for all of us to relax, to gain a little ease in the face of death. Even Mac, that paragon of anti-fashion, got into the discussion, although from an outlandish perspective. Buffy, Dawn and I were practically soul-mates in the clothing department – as were Willow and Mac in their own little unfashionable offshoot. But we all joined in on a heated argument over the best materials to use in bra construction; naturally that's when Xander showed up and sat down next to me. He was disconcerted, to say the least, when he realized what we talking about. I could see that he was torn – he thought about leaving, but he liked sitting next to me. All of us were aware of Xander's discomfort and after a few comments which were intended to make him blush, if at all possible, we relented. After all, we should at least try to stop the world from ending.

Unfortunately, my own reactions betrayed my best intentions. While everyone else came up with tactical plans and variations to enemy action, I was growing ever more aware of Xander's leg touching my leg. Even through two layers of cloth, the temperature of the area of contact was rising. I was ever more aware of his arm against my shoulder. His male aroma whispered into my nose in a way that caused my brain to short-circuit. I could feel my heart rate increasing and my breathing got quicker and quicker. We kind of pushed together harder. I was suddenly worried about whether or not others would notice my chest rising and falling inappropriately. I had this sudden vision of myself on the cover of a bodice-ripper, complete with heaving bosom. I took Xand's left hand in my right hand and ran my fingers over his work-hardened calluses. I couldn't help but remember the feel of his roughened hands around my naked waist. I very nearly groaned out loud.

"Veronica! Veronica!" said Willow.

"Huh? What?" I asked stupidly, "I'm sorry Willow, what did I miss?"

I read the paper while waiting for Xander to get back. That, plus I was waiting for a few phone calls to bear fruit. Hmm, it seems a new annex to a big casino was having foundation problems. The building was sinking, according to the article in the Deseret News, but only on one side. There were lawsuits and accusations flying back and forth among the general contractor, the subcontractors, the engineers, and of course the architect, and anyone else involved in the construction. But, in typical Vegas fashion, the owners planned to demolish the whole structure and replace it, even though the construction was only completed six months ago. All because one side of the building sunk a few inches? They couldn't fix that? Jack it up and pump concrete under it or something? Strange what an excess of money does to people.

After two days apart Xander and I finally managed to get together in the bedroom. "Oh my god," I said, "a whole night free for sex. Come on!" I didn't have to tell Xander twice, we undressed each other and fell into bed, after a detour through the holo-shower. Now I'm not going into any detail here, 'cause it's really none of your business, but our lovemaking was astonishingly violent that night. Two days, and more importantly, two nights, apart had made us madly horny. So much so that I think I screamed loudly at the climax. Xander's groans were awfully loud too.

Afterwards we watched a movie, The Big Leibowski. Besides being one of my favorite movies, apparently it's one of Xander's too. We really got into it and started reciting the dialog together. I mouthed along with bikini-clad Tara Reid on the TV: "I'll suck your cock for a thousand dollars!"

TV Brandt: "Ah ha ha ha ha ha! Wonderful woman. We're all, we're all very fond of her. Very free-spirited."

Me and TV Tara again: "Brandt can't watch though, or he has to pay a hundred."

TV Brandt (nervously): "Ah ha ha. That's marvelous."

Xander, simultaneously with The Dude: "Uh, I'm just gonna go find a cash machine."

Xander and I looked at each other and collapsed laughing with our arms around each other. I suppose it might not be that funny when judged from a sober out-of-context viewpoint, but we thought it was the height of hilarity. Of course, it might make a difference that we had just had several hours of mad lovemaking.

A few moments later I noticed Xander was looking a little more intently at Tara Reid than seemed warranted by the plot. I studied her, then I looked at my body. After the movie I looked at my chest with a frown. "So what do you think Xand? Should I get my breasts enlarged?"

"What? No!"

I frowned at Xander. "That's a little vehement, don'tcha think? I mean, it's my body."

"Sorry, look, do what you want, but if you want my opinion, and you did ask, I think you are absolutely perfect the way you are. You don't need any kind of augmentation, take my word for it – I'm nearly a world-class expert when it comes to beautiful breasts. Surely my opinion counts for something, doesn't it? I mean, there isn't anyone else in the world who is privileged to fondle your tits, is there?"

I chuckled, "No dear husband, you're the only one. But I was just wondering because Danny Boyd thought I should get the operation and it kind of bothers me once in while."

"What the hell, Veronica! What does Danny Boyd have to do with it? I didn't know he was intimate enough with you to make comments like that!"

"He wasn't, that was nearly the first thing he said to me the first time we met – right after he opened his front door, in fact."

"Shit! He's an even bigger asshole than I thought!"

"Well, he's in jail where he belongs, and I doubt that he'll be getting out any time soon. So forget him."

"All right, forgotten."

"I need food now, how about you?"

"Room service?"

"How about a quick snack? I'll just zip out to the vending machines down the hall."

Xander nodded.

I threw on a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt and went out. I was startled to find most everyone else still awake in the living room, and staring at me with round eyes. Oh hell!, I thought, they all look like they've been listening to me and Xander for the last two hours. How am I going to live this down?

"Wow, Xand, we haven't even explored the other wing of this bathroom," I said.

"Exaggerating much?"

"Just a tad. But there's this Olympic size heart-shaped bathtub that we haven't even tried out."

I drew a bath and dropped some soap in it. It didn't take much to entice Xander to join me. We sat side by side, each in a separate lobe of the tub. Xander asked, "What's the purpose of all these bubbles again?"

"Ohhhh, it's all so romantic, slippery, and all bubbly!"

"But I can't see your body."

"Nooo, but you can feel, and touch, and stroke..."

The next morning, bright and early, we down for breakfast.

"So Veronica," asked Willow, "what was up with the sound effects coming from your suite last night? You and Xand really got down with the snugglies?"

"Oh yeah, Xander found my G-spot last night, it was..." Willow looked at me with a odd suffused expression. "TMI?"

"Yeppers. How about some bacon and eggs?" Everyone joined us and we all got down to the serious business of eating and light conversation. No sex talk – it's possible that I'm getting a one-track mind because everything I wanted to do that morning involved wrapping my naked legs around naked Xander. I mentally shook myself, Get your mind in the game Veronica! I thought angrily, the end of the world may be upon us and all you want to do is fuck around with Xand. Something has to change.

After breakfast, we retired to our suite for a conference.

Willow started, "They've charged Danny Boyd with stealing explosives, not murder though, because they couldn't connect him with anything else here in Vegas. Still, on the explosives charge alone he should get ten years in prison, the Feds really don't like people who steal TNT."

"Well," I said trenchantly, "it's better than getting poked in the eye with a sharp stick, but not by much." I paused, expecting at least a few low chuckles, but I heard nothing but complete silence followed by a pregnant pause. I looked up and the first thing I noticed was Xander's glass eye. Oh shit! I'm such an idiot! I completely forgot about Xander's eye! God, I'm such a...

Xander broke the silence, "Hey, that's still funny." And he laughed! Didn't offset the fact that I felt like a complete and total buttheaded jerk with the IQ of a toad.

"Xander! Oh my god, I didn't think, I didn't mean to..." I would have said more but he grabbed me and planted a big ol' kiss on my lips. That made feel a little, a tiny, a nanobit better.

"Veronica," he whispered in my ear, "it just means you're not obsessing over my eye socket. That's a good thing, don't be upset."

That made me feel a lot better.

"So anyway," said Mac, "I've got a bunch of messages here from your man Weidman. But they're encrypted."

"Well how dare Weidman encrypt his messages! How the hell am I supposed to know what he's thinking when I can't intercept his most private communications?" I asked, outraged, and then added "cryptography ought to be illegal!"

Mac snorted in reply, "When cryptography is outlawed, only outlaws will vpqqo vsyro mvpfr. Still, he's using a simple code, I think I will be able to decipher it. Of course, that low level of encryption probably means it isn't a very important message, if he'd used PGP we'd be shit out of luck."

"Okay, let us know when it's ready. So, what's next?" I said.

Xander replied, "When in danger or in doubt, run in circles, scream and shout?"

I said, "No, no, the actual quote is: 'When in danger or in doubt, port your helm and come about.' It dates from back in the days of sail."

Giles polished his glasses and put them back on. He looked at each of us in succession, skipping no one. "Xander, Veronica" he said, "don't be flippant. Just because we have averted multiple large-scale disasters in the past is no reason to become overconfident now. Please remember that one of the most skilled swordsman in Europe was defeated by a beginner."

"Huh?" I spoke up, "what does swordsmanship have to do with it?"

"Nothing," said Willow in an aside to me, "it's a metaphor. We can't be overconfident, I mean we can be, but we shouldn't be, that is we have to be careful not to be because it would be bad to be overconfident."

I said, "No way am I overconfident, I'm shaking in my boots. I think you're all crazy if you think we can defeat this."

Everyone sat back and most reached for water or snacks. I picked up today's paper and started scanning headlines. Suddenly a name in the Deseret News leaped off the page at me. I nearly jumped I was so surprised. Carlos Mercado. I read the article closely. The building that started to sink last week and was being demolished – it seems they paid particularly close attention to the foundation – naturally since lawyers were sharpening their claws – uh, pencils – over the lawsuits for faulty construction or engineering or both. So everyone was horrified (but not, I think, especially surprised) when they discovered a couple of dead bodies under the footings. One of the bodies was identified as the corpse of one Carlos Mercado, the son of a diplomat who had disappeared about a year and a half ago. Of course I knew exactly when he disappeared: a very short time after he murdered Amelia DeLongpre and extorted a quarter of a million bucks out of Kane Software. Oh shit, Clarence is going to be on the warpath after my supposed letter from her. Why does this happen to me? How the hell did I hit upon a little scam using Amelia's name just weeks before the corpse of her murdered murderer turned up? I hoped Clarence was confident that I would stay silent—perhaps a few bodyguards wouldn't be totally out of the question. And a conference with Clarence Weidman too, I think.

TBC