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Santa in July

Veronica Mars: Messiah

Santa in July

Veronica Mars: Messiah

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joanie, please stop being stupid, ms holloway
As requested by sonneta:
Fandom: Veronica Mars
Characters: Veronica and Wallace
Elements Requested: Christmas church service of some sort.
Rating: PG-13

So, we're-- Wallace and I being the we here-- in church because Jesus' birthday is coming and we are-- apparently-- good Christians. (Santa had better buy that) Also (and mostly) we're in this particular church because we like music.

It's just us. It doesn't mean anything, but it's just us. It's a nice church, it's a nice service. It's all very nice, and they have incredible music too. Today, it's Handel's Messiah, which is very good stuff. It's beautiful; it's moving; all of that.

Really, it is. I'm not being sarcastic. The music is so beautiful it makes me wish this could just last a little longer. It's peaceful. I like it. This is what the holidays should be about. That, and fabulous presents, but mostly the peace thing, of course.

Meanwhile, I'm sitting here trying to figure out where exactly my life started to go wrong. I've almost got it pinned to my eighth grade dance (or just eighth grade in and of itself), but then the fact that I have yet to receive a pony for birthdays or Christmas jumps out at me. That's clearly what's missing in my life.

I'd like a pony this Christmas. I'd name it Black Beauty or Snowflake or possibly Handel. It would eat out of my hand (apples and sugar cubes and...oats? What do horses eat?) and I'd braid its mane with ribbons.

The holidays do weird things to my brain. All of that pressure to be good, to give nice gifts, to refrain from justifiable homicide... it's a lot of pressure. Speaking of my brain, it is officially wandering away from the heavenly music.

Wallace-- who is quietly and reverentially sitting next to me-- is probably not thinking about any of this. He also probably knows that I am, because when I look at him he's looking back at me with this "I'd scowl if we weren't in church" look, that's mostly in the eyes. A lowering of the eyelids with a little tightening of the lips.

I smile.
He smiles back at me, all sunshine and happiness the lips smooth out and the eyes are sparkling.

That's good. I'd hate for him to try to lecture me during the nice music. Or kill me. The first would be mildly inconvenient, the second would just ruin everyone's good yuletide time and I will not be held responsible for that.

Well, maybe not everyone's yuletide joy would be ruined if I were to be killed at the hands of my dear friend. ...Wallace's would be, though, and that is something.

Wallace reaches down for my hand.


We lace our fingers together and listen to the music.

When it's done, I don't want to leave. Wallace moves to get up, but we're still holding hands (like little kids lost in a mall) so he can't get too far.

"You ready to go?" he asks me with that sunny smile.

"Not yet," I say.

He sits back down next to me, as people file out of the church.
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