"You sure you wanna do this, V?"
Veronica sucked in a sharp breath as she eyed the equipment on the small table at her side. Before responding, she looked at the wall of art in front of her. So many beautiful works of art, inked out on canvases of skin with precise, passionate strokes of his needle.
"I'm sure," she said quietly, trying to keep the shake out of her voice. She turned her head and looked at the other person in the small room. At his arched eyebrow, she smiled and tilted her head. "Don't give me that look, Eli... really, I'm fine."
He smiled back at her. "Yeah, and you're always this pale," he shot back. Her smile faded as she looked over at the needle. He stepped towards her and asked, "Are you scared of needles, V?"
"Yeah," she deadpanned. "I can't even sew a button on a shirt without freaking out."
"Seriously."
She swallowed hard and reached out to touch the tray that carried the pots of ink and other supplies he would use on her skin.
"I... well, the last time I saw one of those, it was being brought down to my face with one hand as the other hand pinned me down to a pool table at River Stix. So, I'm a little jumpy around the equipment," she admitted, recoiling her hand before she got to touch the power supply for the handheld tattooing device.
"When?" he asked, his voice telling her that his heckles were being raised.
She looked at him, smiling a bit. "Ages ago," she told him. "It's ancient history."
"No, seriously."
"What makes you think I'm not being serious?"
"V..."
She smiled more. "It happened back in my senior year at Neptune High. I've moved on... or," she paused to tilt her head, "I'm trying to. Which is why I made this appointment and I'm trying to stick to it."
He nodded and walked over to his drawing desk, where he worked on his masterpieces. "Ever since you stopped by last week, I've been working on this," he said, picking up a piece of paper and walking back to her. "If you don't like it, you can give me what you've got... or pick something out of one of my books, but---"
Veronica snatched it out of his hand before he had a chance to finish his sentence. She had seen his artwork in pictures and in the flesh; she hadn't seen him in years, but she knew he'd know exactly what would suit her. He had always been able to see through her rock-hard exterior. Despite the rough moments between them, she trusted him.
"V, wait---"
"No," she interrupted again. "I want to..." she trailed off when she looked at the design.
There was a cross in the centre of the page. It was ornate and upon further inspection, she saw that the engravings were an intricate blend of images of everything that was important in her life. For her friends and family, there were initials and small symbols; there were also symbols that represented her. She felt her lips curve into a smile as her eyes traveled over the four branches of the cross.
The cross was attached to a chain, which twisted around the cross, traveling downwards, and then each end of the chain drifted towards the sides of the page.
"Where do you think this should go?" she asked, looking up at him.
He held out his hand. "C'm'ere," he said in reply.
She put her hand in his and felt how warm his palm was; she was instantly reminded that no one had touched her like that in so long, and her stomach tightened.
Eli took her to a full length mirror and turned her so she was facing him, so her back was facing the mirror.
"Lift up the back of your shirt," he instructed, his voice taking on a rougher turn.
She opened her mouth to ask him why, but he was already moving away. He put a piece of tape on the paper design, and then grabbed a portable mirror before returning to her.
When she figured out what he was doing, she lifted up the back of her shirt, blushing a little as he walked around her.
She hoped he didn't notice her shiver when his fingers brushed over her skin, as he taped the design in place.
"It'll cover the scars," he said quietly, before touching her shoulder in what felt like a comforting gesture and walking back to face her.
"Oh... I forgot about those," she admitted.
"Where'd you get those?"
"Never you mind, Dad," she teased.
He glared at her, silently telling her that that conversation was far from over; then, he picked up the mirror and adjusted it so she could see where the design was placed.
It wasn't too low, and it wasn't too high; it wouldn't show when she wore low-rise jeans, nor when she wore a tube top, as far as she could tell from the paper's placement on her skin.
"V?"
"I really like it," she murmured, lifting her eyes from the mirror to his eyes. "Thank you."
He smiled bashfully and nodded. She chuckled and rubbed her hand over his smooth head.
"So, you're gonna ink me, Eli?"
"If you'll let me," he told her honestly. He set the mirror down and then turned to look at her. "Why are you going through with this if you're afraid?"
She shrugged. "I need to get over my fears," she told him, following him over to the chair and table again.
"For what?"
"For work," she told him.
He nodded and moved around his small tattoo studio, getting the design prepped for transfer onto her skin.
"What do you do?" he asked.
She smiled. "Eli, if I told you... I'd have to kill you."
He laughed. "I don't doubt that."
Her smile stretched into a grin. She was glad he decided to drop the subject. She couldn't talk about her job, because everything was classified and top secret and she didn't want anyone to get into trouble.
She couldn't tell him that she was in training a couple of weeks ago and someone was teaching her about interrogation methods; one flick of the power supply, one motorised needle coming towards her face, and she completely unhinged.
Her instructors and teammates had been disappointed with her; she didn't make excuses, but she made a promise to herself to face her fears and to make new associations with the device that terrified her.
When she heard from her father that Eli had opened his own tattoo parlor and had been doing rather well for himself, all things considering, she knew what she had to do.
"That's how you got those scars?"
She nodded. She wanted to tell him about the mission she had been sent on, about the trouble she had gotten herself into, but she knew she couldn't.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah," she said quietly, turning to look at him.
"Your dad hoped you'd go into something... less dangerous," he reminded her.
She shrugged. "Veronica Mars and 'life of danger' just go together," she told him.
He smiled again. "Yeah... no kidding." He cleared his throat and quickly looked away. "So... how about you pull your shirt up, and I'll get this transferred onto your back?"
"Sounds good," she agreed, sitting down on the chair he offered her.
She stiffened when he touched her. He snorted and said, "This part doesn't hurt, V."
"Sorry... it's... it's just that---"
"You're nervous. I know. Take a deep breath and try to relax."
She sighed and closed her eyes as he had the design pressed against her back, so the ink on the other side of the paper would transfer to her skin. His hands were still so warm; she could feel the warmth traveling up her spine, flushing her cheeks as her heart began to pound.
"There," he told her, pulling the paper away and putting it in the garbage. "You wanna look in the mirror, or---"
"I trust you," she interrupted. "If you think it looks good, I trust you."
Eli replied by reaching down and squeezing her shoulder. "It looks good, chica," he said quietly.
She smiled and craned her neck to look at him. "So... now what?"
"Now, you're going to get up and move over to the table," he told her, pointing to what looked like a massage table, standing a few feet away. "I'll tilt it, and then we can get started---slowly."
"Oh. So soon?"
He chuckled. "Now or never, V."
"Then... now," she said quietly, pushing herself off of the chair.
"I'll take my time," he promised, "and when you need a break, just let me know." He paused and smiled. "I'd let you hold my hand," he continued, "but I need to do my job."
Veronica smiled at him before hopping up onto the table. He moved his equipment and inks over, and settled down for a long afternoon.
She didn't tell him that it felt like he was marking his territory, nor that she liked it; he didn't tell her that he wanted her all for himself, nor that he found the way she reached back and gripped his knee endearing.
And when it was all over, he didn't accept her offer of payment. She kissed his cheek, feeling bolder as she rode her adrenaline high, and then wrote her phone number down on his appointment book.
"Don't be a stranger," she said quietly, before walking out of his studio.
&&&&
He hadn't seen her for five months, and when he did see her, it was in the last place he expected to find Veronica Mars, former classmate and brilliant mind.
It wasn't her face or her voice that caught his attention. It was the artwork across the back of a slithering body, combined with the shift of long, blonde hair over a shimmering shoulder.
Eli had been dragged out with some of his newer, non-PCH friends, for a bachelor party. He hadn't been in the mood for that kind of party, but he hadn't been given much of a choice. So, he closed his shop down for two days and drove to Las Vegas with the other six guys.
The second night, they went to another strip club---surprise, surprise. He hadn't gotten a lap dance on the first night, and his friends were convinced that he needed one.
"Oh, man... what about her?" Jesse said, pointing to the stage.
Eli had already been looking in that direction, transfixed as he watched Veronica's cross, Veronica's body curling around the golden pole in the middle of the stage. He swallowed hard and tried to look away, but Veronica was unfastening her bra, and turning to face the audience.
He didn't think she saw him. He hoped she didn't. He had dreamed of seeing her, exposed to him, but in his dreams he had been the only one there; he didn't want her to think that he enjoyed being a part of the audience that hardened at the sight of her.
She arched and wiggled and swayed, feeding off of the hoots and hollers from the crowd.
And when she stepped off of the stage, she disappeared from his sight for a few minutes. He caught her later, gyrating her hips over a rich man who gave Eli a bad, sinking feeling in his gut. He was too well-dressed, too decked out in jewels, and surrounded by too many bodyguards to be a lonely, regular guy looking for a cheap thrill on a Saturday night.
"So... what about her? You completely spaced out, man."
Eli smirked and shrugged. "She's hot."
"Well, I'll see what I can do for you," Jesse promised. "It's been too long... you need a little play."
"They're not hookers, Jesse," he reminded his friend.
"Yeah, but a cute, little blonde with a tat might be the best thing to recharge your batteries," his friend pointed out.
Eli chuckled. "Yeah... sure. Whatever, man."
An hour later, Veronica was following Jesse back to their table. She met Eli's eyes when she sauntered in front of him; however, her face didn't tell him that she recognised him. He was smart enough not to say anything; he didn't want to embarrass her or himself in any way.
"So, the dance is for your friend?" she asked Jesse. "Is he the groom?"
"No way... that's me," another guy, Ryan, said. "But, Eli's a good guy. He needs to loosen up, just like the rest of us."
Veronica smiled and slipped towards Eli. "So true," she purred, before slipping into his lap, pressing herself against his leather-clad thighs. "Now, remember," she murmured near his ear. "No touching."
"I know the rules, miss," he replied, leaning back in his chair.
When her ear was close to his mouth, he quietly asked what she was doing.
"Giving you a lap dance," she hissed, gripping his shoulder a little too tightly.
He hid his wince and shifted his weight. She continued rolling her hips over his body, pressing her bare breasts against his chest; he continued fighting the urge to grab her and hold her down against him, while telling her exactly what he thought of her.
Afterwards, his friends cheered and clapped him on his back. Then, they ordered another round. Eli didn't drink too much more; he planned on hanging around The French Palace until Veronica's shift was over. He wanted to have a private conversation with her, and it wouldn't wait another day or two.
She didn't exit the club until four in the morning, flanked by what he guessed were two bodyguards. When they saw her, they prepared to get rid of her, she told them to back off and that they went to high school together and that she needed a couple of minutes.
"You've got a lot of nerve," she commented quietly when they were alone.
"And you've got a lot of something else," he shot back. "What's going on, chica?"
"Nothing," she hissed. "You need to go back home and forget we met here."
"I wish I could!" he said forcefully, leaning in close and fighting the urge to grab her and kiss her. His voice dropped to a rough whisper as he finished ranting at her. "God, I can still... I can still feel your skin under my fingertips! And then I see you here, of all places, wearing nothing but my cross and a scrap of material... and, and what are you doing with your life, V?!"
He was glad it was still dark enough, so she wouldn't see him blush.
Veronica opened her mouth to respond, but she ended up gaping at him. Slowly, she closed her mouth and shifted her weight.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," she whispered. "I... I didn't have a choice."
"You always have a choice. What, clean living not very lucrative? You decide you like having strangers drool over you all night?"
She bit her lip and shook her head. "I've got to go," she said, a bit more loudly.
"Yeah."
Much to his surprise, she reached out and hugged him. "Meet me at the Rampart in an hour," she whispered in his ear. "Room 4043. Knock twice."
"Yeah," he breathed in her ear as he returned the hug.
She was gone before he could process their conversation.
&&&&
After hearing the two hesitant knocks on her hotel suite's door, Veronica opened the door and tugged him inside. He opened his mouth to talk to her, but she clapped her hand over his mouth while locking the door; he glared at her until she wrote a quick message on a scrap of paper.
Room wired for sound.
He nodded and took her hand in his, moving it away from his mouth.
Use paper and pen. Will burn after."
He nodded again, following her to the sofa.
His first question was What is going on?
I'm a spy, she wrote back, I'm undercover.
That guy you danced for first---your mark?
She nodded and slid her left hand over his right arm. Then, she wrote I'm sorry you had to see that.
You're better than that, he wrote back.
He's working for terrorists.
Eli's eyebrows shot up. Oh. So... you bug him?
Not so much. Something better than that. Classified. Can't tell.
He nodded and slipped her hand off of his arm and into his hand. After a brief squeeze, he released it and picked up the pen again. You okay?
She smiled at him. Yes.
I hated seeing you like that, he admitted.
I thought you liked it, she wrote back, teasing him.
All those losers, stuffing money in your g-string? God, no. Doesn't suit you, V. You're worth more than all that filthy cash.
She blushed and looked away.
Eli picked up the pen again. Your tat's hot, though.
Veronica looked down at the paper after a minute. She gasped, and then smothered a laugh into her hand. She snatched the pen out of his hand. Thanks. I'll thank the artist next time I see him... think he'd like a present? Candies and flowers, perhaps?
Dinner and a movie might work out better.
Oh, really? she inquired, looking back at him and finding the way he looked at her through his eyelashes was a little too cute to ignore.
Really.
Veronica gathered the papers, stood up, and started walking towards her bathroom, the one room not bugged by her superiors. She turned back to Eli and motioned for him to follow her.
She put her hand over his mouth again, as she closed the door and reached for the shower faucet. When the water was running, she whispered, "If we talk quietly, it should be okay."
"Why is your room bugged?"
"It's been bugged by the bad guys. They're keeping an eye on me, because I'm their boss' favourite stripper," she told him in a quiet voice as she ripped the paper up and put it in the trash can. "I can't take the bugs out, because they'll know I know they're there... and then they'll know I'm not just a pretty face. So, I have to deal with them the hard way."
He grunted and looked down at his feet. "I hate that this is what you're doing with your life, V."
"I know," she whispered. "But, it's not going to be for much longer... and then... I'll move onto something else. Something much less glamourous."
"You can't get much more 'less glamourous' than that!" he said forcefully. "V, you're dancing up there, they're stuffing dollar bills in your gold g-string! Is that why you went to Hearst? To shake your ass up on a stage and have dirty men looking at you?"
"Possessive, much," she muttered. "It's my body, my life, and I went to Hearst to get an education, so I could make a difference. And that's what I'm doing!"
"Making a difference? To who? Giving married men an image for their spank bank isn't exactly the kind of difference I expected you to make in the world---"
Veronica's hand lashed out before she was aware of what it was doing. The slap wasn't loud, but it had a potent effect on both of them. Veronica gasped and shook slightly, not afraid that she hurt him or that he'd hurt her in return, but afraid that she would lose one of her only remaining friends. Eli glared at her, his pulse throbbing at his neck, his eyes dark and ominous.
She gasped when he moved towards her, looming over her as his eyes bored down into hers; she backed up until the closed door stopped her.
He acted fast, grabbing and lifting her hips up as he pressed against her with his body. She gasped and opened her mouth to say something, but he pressed his mouth over hers and kissed her until she was desperate for oxygen.
It hadn't been a gentle kiss; at once point, he growled, before biting her lower lip and making her whimper.
The next kisses were all teeth and tongue, until Veronica's hands started to wander---and then, they were all teeth and tongue and nails and whimpers and moans and growls and clothes being tugged off.
She knew that when she looked back on that moment, she wouldn't remember much about the first few minutes of heavy kissing. It didn't become clear until he thrust inside of her that first time. She cried out and wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and she hung on tightly. She looked at him, looked deep into his big, brown eyes, and everything was so clear.
"Hey," she whispered.
"Hey, yourself, chica," he whispered back.
She smiled and leaned in to kiss him again. She didn't make any promises out loud, but she hoped he understood what promises she was making with every kiss and every movement of her hips.
He whispered in Spanish in her ear, over and over. She wondered if he was making promises to her, but she didn't dare ask. Promises were for other people, not Veronica Mars, secret-agent-posing-as-a-stripper-in-Vegas. As much as she wanted out-loud promises and whispered sweet nothings, she knew she shouldn't get them.
"Eli..." she begged, her voice quiet and desperate and raspy.
He replied with a kiss, taking her breath away.
And when the storm had passed, they slumped together on the bath mat, arms around each other as they caught their breath.
She smiled when he kissed the top of her head. In reply, she kissed his jaw. When he stroked over her back, over his cross on her skin, she smiled more and tucked her forehead against the crown on his neck.
&&&&
There weren't many more meetings between them in the next few years. Eli resigned himself to that fact; he knew she couldn't risk coming back to California, and he wanted her to be as safe as she could.
Each time she snuck into his apartment, she burned brighter in his heart and mind. He lived for those clandestine meetings.
She'd creep into his bed and he'd sleep better; when he'd wake up, she'd be wrapped up in his arms, sleeping soundly and smelling so good. He'd spend a few minutes watching her sleep and brushing his fingers through her hair, and then he'd wake her up with quiet kisses.
He would reschedule his appointments and close the studio down, and they would spend a day or two---depending on how much time she had---in bed. They ate whatever quick foods Eli had stored in his cupboards, or else he'd order take out and have it delivered; they watched movies; they talked quietly about anything but what she did and why she did it.
When she left, he'd suffer from insomnia for days---until exhaustion finally set in.
But, she kept coming back to him and he couldn't give her up.
During the seventh year of their odd rituals, she surprised him. He came home from midnight mass, to see her sitting on his sofa, reading a book.
She smiled at him when he came into the living room.
"Did Santa Claus drop you down the chimney for me?" he asked, grinning as she rose to her feet and approached him.
Veronica gave him a gentle kiss and then she hugged him close. "I'm home," she murmured.
"You got a few days off, V?" he asked, pressing his lips into her hair for a kiss before he inhaled her scent.
She slipped her hands under his shirt and rubbed his back. "No... I'm back for good," she whispered.
Eli thought his heart had stopped. Hearing those words made the world spin slower, or something---he was sure of that. When he heard Veronica laugh, he pulled back enough to look at her.
"You quit?"
She smirked and shrugged. "Well... yeah. I miss the tawdriness of cheating wives and thieving employees," she murmured, bringing one of her hands up to so she could brush her fingers over his lips, and then his jaw, and then his tattoo. "Plus, I was shot a couple of times... and I was held prisoner for two days. And, it got to be less about solving mysteries and more about doing things I don't have the heart to do," she admitted quietly.
"You have too much heart," he reminded her, tightening his hold on her.
Veronica blushed and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Merry Christmas, Eli," she whispered, brushing her nose against his before kissing him.
"Do I get to unwrap my present now?" he asked.
She answered with a grin and a nod. He grinned back and lifted her over his shoulder; she squealed and giggled as he carried her to his bedroom.
He took his time undressing her. After each piece of clothing that was dropped on the floor, Eli showered her skin with kisses. He found the places she was shot in the line of duty. One was in her chest, close to her collarbone; it was a through-and-through, and left two jagged scars on her smooth skin. The other was on her left thigh; it was caused by a grazed bullet, leaving a long, ragged scar there, too.
She sniffled as he kissed the scars, but she didn't say anything; he didn't say anything, either. He pushed himself up over her, thinking that he was shielding her from the evils she had to face on her own; she wrapped herself around him and whispered sweet words in his ear.
"I can make those go away," he promised as he held her close. "If you don't mind spending some time under the needle again."
She beamed at him. "You wanna brand me again?"
"Again?"
Veronica rolled her eyes and gently punched him in the arm. "Oh, c'mon, like you didn't think of it as branding the first time you inked this skin."
Eli looked away. He had thought of it as branding, and she knew he had, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to admit it right away.
She kissed him twice, and then asked him what he would put over her scars.
"Anything you want," he whispered. "Maybe a chain of pretty flowers over your shoulder... or a snake."
Veronica laughed and nudged him onto his back. She placed kisses over his chest, and then she said, "I don't think a snake suits my personality, Mr. Navarro."
He chuckled and brushed his fingers over her back. "You could put something on your thigh, too."
"My daddy's not going to like that very much," she murmured.
"Well, he doesn't have to see 'em, does he?"
"The shoulder one might be a little obvious," she pointed out, "but, he doesn't have to know about the others."
Eli smiled as she shifted over him. When she wriggled, he groaned.
She smirked and leaned down to steal another kiss. After a few minutes, lazily kissing and enjoying the moment, she pulled back and asked, "What about a shooting star?"
"Maybe a lily on your thigh," he suggested.
"Oh..." she breathed. "That's a good idea. Hey, what about---"
"Chica, we'll figure that all out," he promised. "Right now, I want to enjoy my present."
Veronica grinned and nodded, before leaning down again for more kissing. He wrapped his arms around her body and held her to him, never wanting to let her go. Luckily for him, she didn't seem opposed to the idea.
She wanted to stay on top, and he had no problem with that idea; he always loved to watch her moving above him. Her hair tumbled down over her shoulders as she rocked slowly against him. He reached up and brushed her hair back; she tilted her head and caught his thumb in her mouth, and when she sucked on the digit, he groaned and had to close his eyes.
He noticed that she was louder than she had ever been before. She cried his name out, she begged, she whimpered and moaned; she seemed to be less inhibited, more free than she had been in years. That freedom fueled his own desire, and when they were finally finished, he was so exhausted that he didn't even think he could move to bring the covers up over their bodies.
"Merry Christmas, V," he whispered.
She beamed at him while draping her leg over his. "Mmmm... right back atcha, baby."
He chuckled quietly.
"Hey," she whispered.
"Mmmm?"
"Does tattooing fingers hurt?" she asked quietly.
His brow furrowed. "Your dad would notice if you had ink on your hands, V," he pointed out.
"Not on my hands. Just on one finger. And yeah, he'd notice," she murmured. "So would everyone else. And, that would be the point, lover."
"When we do that, we'll get someone to do it in front of our family and friends, V," he promised, after hugging her close and silently thanking God and Santa Claus and anyone else he could think of that was responsible for her showing up in his apartment that night. His lips twitched into a smirk. "Besides, I'm not letting you come near me with a needle," he added, teasingly.
Veronica laughed, nudged him, and then pounced on him, before kissing him and whispering promises in his ear, about permanence and security and the lives they'd lead together.
