Fic: Take Five
California Dreamin’
She picks him out the first day of school. Striding through the halls of Neptune High (she learned young, on the pageant circuit, how to exude so much confidence that you actually felt it, and she has no doubts that she’s going to rule Neptune with as iron of a fist-wrapped in a designer velvet glove, of course-as she did Sunnydale), she catches a glimpse of him, recognizes him immediately as Aaron and Lynn Echolls’s son (Aaron is still hot, despite his age, but what the hell happened to Lynn?). Sure, he’s a bit of a mess, and she wrinkles his nose at the crude joke he makes to that dumb blond kid beside him, but she likes a fixer-upper. Or at least she does in theory. She’s never dated one before.
But she can imagine it, quite easily, taking him into L.A. for the day, replacing those rumpled shirts and the hemp necklace with well-cut button downs and a Rolex. For the love of her, he’ll give up beer and settle down with a Scotch, replace bodily function jokes with business talk with her dad. She’ll look gorgeous on his arm (well, it’ll really be him on hers, because Cordelia Chase is no man’s accessory) at his father’s movie premieres and red carpet events, and once she graduates, she’ll have the perfect contacts to begin the pursuit of her Audrey Hepburn dreams.
--
Well, things don’t work out exactly that way.
But that’s all right. She’s Cordelia Chase. No situation gets the better of her.
--
She didn’t count on actually liking him (she’s pretty sure he feels the same way, though she’d never admit that because, hello! How could anyone not like her? She’s perfect!), actually wanting to laugh at his stupid jokes (she bites the inside of her cheek to keep the giggles in-Cordy does. Not. Giggle.-and rolls her eyes dramatically) or enjoying the nights they spend watching movies in his poolhouse more than the big parties his parents throw.
She didn’t expect to actually listen when he talks about Lilly and the way his dad treats him and how different Duncan is now. Didn’t expect to confide in him that she feels lonely and neglected by her distant parents.
Didn’t expect to actually like all of that.
(But she does.)
And, sure, they rule the school, but that’s nothing compared to the warmth of Logan’s arm around her.
*
Hunter or Hunted
She catches his eye instantly, and for once it’s not just because she’s hot (though she is, smokin’, enough to make him completely lose his interest in his pie). It’s because of the way she walks.
Dean’s never actually seen a runway before, but he imagines that that’s the way a model would walk on one. All hips, all swinging hair (even if hers is tied back in a ponytail, and he imagines sliding the elastic out of it, letting it fall down over her bare shoulders), all miles-long legs.
It’s that walk that makes her stand out, because no one in the Roadhouse would dream of walking that way (even Jo, by far the girliest person on the premises, moves more like a warrior than anything). That walk, in a place of rough-hewn wood, whiskey and guns is as out of place as Dean himself would be if he tried to participate in a pre-pubescent girls’ ballet recital.
Every eye in the place follows her as she struts over to the bar and sits down. Dean’s only a few stools away, and from here he can see that while her clothes are as subdued in color and sturdy in material as the ones everyone else are wearing, they’re still new, not worn down by time and fighting like the other patrons of the Roadhouse. She leans a rifle against the bar beside her, but it’s awkward in her hand, not an extension of her body the way it would be with Jo’s.
He’d say that she belongs anywhere but here except that when, despite Sam’s protests, he slips onto the stool beside hers, her eyes are cool, unimpressed, and keen (with profound sorrow way, way behind it all). This girl’s known danger and loss and known them well.
That doesn’t keep him from winking and opening his mouth to feed her one of his better lines.
She cuts him off before he can even speak. “You can buy me a drink, but you’re not going to get anything in exchange.”
Speechless, he buys her the drink. She takes a sip, gives him a cool, appraising looking.
He opens his mouth to try again. Again, she doesn’t let him say anything.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
He swallows.
He really doesn’t. But now he really, really wants to find out.
*
Hell and Other Names for Texas
Texas might as well be hell as far as Cordy’s concerned. It’s hot and-far, far more dangerous to her hair and skin-humid, with dust that blows everywhere and the nearest mall over an hour away and no Starbucks and Lyla Garrity. A queen can always sight the competition, and Cordy recognizes Lyla the second she lays eyes on her. She’s determined to rule this town (even more pathetic than the one she used to call home) just as she had Sunnydale.
Making cheerleader is the first step, and it’s anything but difficult. Then come making friends with the right people (easy enough, since Cordy’s L.A.-bought fashions are more expensive than any the girls at Dillon High have ever seen. They’re so impressed that Cordy can’t help but wonder how much easier this would all be if she hadn’t had to sell most of her designer labels back in California), flirting with the right guys, and developing a (feigned) fascination with football.
And then, with one stroke of luck (Lyla being labeled a slut for sleeping with Tim Riggins while her boyfriend was lying in a hospital bed paralyzed), Cordy is crowned queen again.
It isn’t enough.
--
Cordy was never a dreamer, but that was before Dillon. In Sunnydale, she knew exactly how things would happen: after graduation, she’d move to L.A. (Daddy paying for an apartment, of course, and his credit card in her perfectly-manicured hand), and either become an actress, a model, or the wife of a very rich man. That wasn’t a dream; that was the way things would be.
But then Daddy lost all his money and fled the country, and she and Mom had to move back to Mom’s hometown (the one Cordy had never actually seen because Mom was ashamed of where she came from) and into her grandparents’ house because there was just nowhere else to go, and all of Cordy’s certainties flew away like Texas dust.
That’s when she realized that she had no one to rely on but herself.
That’s when she realized that she had to get out of the hellhole that was Dillon, Texas as soon as possible.
That’s when Cordy started dreaming.
*
Checkmate
Upper East Siders still talk about the Battle of the Queens. There has never been (nor, everyone swears, ever will be) as epic a battle as the one between Manhattanite-by-birth Blair Waldorf and California Girl transplant Cordelia Chase. It wasn’t just a clash between two strong-willed brunettes. It was a war of worldviews. Of East Coast versus West. Of California outlooks versus New York sensibilities. Of Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s versus Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday (one was Blair’s favorite, the other Cordy’s).
The first day of school, Cordelia strutted into the halls of Constance and the California invasion began. Blair’s eyes narrowed, Cordy tossed her hair, and war was declared.
The fallout was unparalleled. Neither girl was willing to surrender or retreat one inch. Battle lines were drawn and alliances formed (the girls who sided with Cordy because they thought she couldn’t possibly be as bitchy as Blair soon learned how wrong they were, but by then it was too late to defect). Grades and dresses and reputations were ruined, boyfriends were stolen, cutting remarks flung, but neither contender for the throne shed one tear, no matter how intense the fighting got (at least, not in public).
For months on end the students of NYC’s best prep schools held their breaths, watching the arms race that was the Cold War all over again, one they were certain would lead to a final blow-up. Manhattan Project indeed.
--
And then? The biggest anti-climax in the history of Manhattan.
--
One day (it was a Tuesday in February, in case you’re wondering) Blair and Cordelia walked into the courtyard in front of Constance arm in arm.
Best friends.
After that, Cordelia, Blair, and Serena were inseparable. Boyfriends, fashions, hot spots came and went; squabbles and falling-outs happened; but at the end of the day? They always signed the peace treaties.
--
Constance Billard is the only kingdom to ever have two queens.
*
Shopping on Mars
When he said “See all the universe has to offer,” she assumed he meant shopping. Why else would you want to run around space and time if you weren’t going to do intergalactic shopping? Besides, it seemed like a safe bet: escape from the endless fear and danger that was Sunnydale, and even Cordelia knew to be impressed by that not-very-impressive-appearing blue box that was bigger on the inside (if he would just teach her how to do that! Closets, purses, shopping bags, credit card limits: bigger on the inside? Yes, please!). No more vampires plus more shopping than Harmony Kendall could ever brag about after any L.A. trip.
Of course, on their very first trip, they end up getting attacked by some crazy purple aliens, and it’s like Sunnydale all over again except with less fangs and more slime.
Barely safe, and she ends up standing in the middle of the stupid blue box in her ruined Jimmy Choos and yelling at the crazy guy-what kind of mental patient calls himself The Doctor, anyways? How lame must his real name be?-about how all she wanted was some new shopping opportunities and that he never mentioned that life-threatening danger was part of this deal. She had quite enough of that back in Sunnydale trailing after Buffy Summers and her merry band of vampire fighters, thank you very much.
He just listens while she rants about the state of her hair, the lack of closet space in this thing, the weather on other planets, vampires and aliens, and she wants to go back to civilization (meaning California) right now!
When she finally pauses to catch her breath, he twirls the key in his hand and says, “What about Versailles?”
Well, she really can’t say no to that. After all, her mother always told her to find a nice doctor.
.
She picks him out the first day of school. Striding through the halls of Neptune High (she learned young, on the pageant circuit, how to exude so much confidence that you actually felt it, and she has no doubts that she’s going to rule Neptune with as iron of a fist-wrapped in a designer velvet glove, of course-as she did Sunnydale), she catches a glimpse of him, recognizes him immediately as Aaron and Lynn Echolls’s son (Aaron is still hot, despite his age, but what the hell happened to Lynn?). Sure, he’s a bit of a mess, and she wrinkles his nose at the crude joke he makes to that dumb blond kid beside him, but she likes a fixer-upper. Or at least she does in theory. She’s never dated one before.
But she can imagine it, quite easily, taking him into L.A. for the day, replacing those rumpled shirts and the hemp necklace with well-cut button downs and a Rolex. For the love of her, he’ll give up beer and settle down with a Scotch, replace bodily function jokes with business talk with her dad. She’ll look gorgeous on his arm (well, it’ll really be him on hers, because Cordelia Chase is no man’s accessory) at his father’s movie premieres and red carpet events, and once she graduates, she’ll have the perfect contacts to begin the pursuit of her Audrey Hepburn dreams.
--
Well, things don’t work out exactly that way.
But that’s all right. She’s Cordelia Chase. No situation gets the better of her.
--
She didn’t count on actually liking him (she’s pretty sure he feels the same way, though she’d never admit that because, hello! How could anyone not like her? She’s perfect!), actually wanting to laugh at his stupid jokes (she bites the inside of her cheek to keep the giggles in-Cordy does. Not. Giggle.-and rolls her eyes dramatically) or enjoying the nights they spend watching movies in his poolhouse more than the big parties his parents throw.
She didn’t expect to actually listen when he talks about Lilly and the way his dad treats him and how different Duncan is now. Didn’t expect to confide in him that she feels lonely and neglected by her distant parents.
Didn’t expect to actually like all of that.
(But she does.)
And, sure, they rule the school, but that’s nothing compared to the warmth of Logan’s arm around her.
*
Hunter or Hunted
She catches his eye instantly, and for once it’s not just because she’s hot (though she is, smokin’, enough to make him completely lose his interest in his pie). It’s because of the way she walks.
Dean’s never actually seen a runway before, but he imagines that that’s the way a model would walk on one. All hips, all swinging hair (even if hers is tied back in a ponytail, and he imagines sliding the elastic out of it, letting it fall down over her bare shoulders), all miles-long legs.
It’s that walk that makes her stand out, because no one in the Roadhouse would dream of walking that way (even Jo, by far the girliest person on the premises, moves more like a warrior than anything). That walk, in a place of rough-hewn wood, whiskey and guns is as out of place as Dean himself would be if he tried to participate in a pre-pubescent girls’ ballet recital.
Every eye in the place follows her as she struts over to the bar and sits down. Dean’s only a few stools away, and from here he can see that while her clothes are as subdued in color and sturdy in material as the ones everyone else are wearing, they’re still new, not worn down by time and fighting like the other patrons of the Roadhouse. She leans a rifle against the bar beside her, but it’s awkward in her hand, not an extension of her body the way it would be with Jo’s.
He’d say that she belongs anywhere but here except that when, despite Sam’s protests, he slips onto the stool beside hers, her eyes are cool, unimpressed, and keen (with profound sorrow way, way behind it all). This girl’s known danger and loss and known them well.
That doesn’t keep him from winking and opening his mouth to feed her one of his better lines.
She cuts him off before he can even speak. “You can buy me a drink, but you’re not going to get anything in exchange.”
Speechless, he buys her the drink. She takes a sip, gives him a cool, appraising looking.
He opens his mouth to try again. Again, she doesn’t let him say anything.
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
He swallows.
He really doesn’t. But now he really, really wants to find out.
*
Hell and Other Names for Texas
Texas might as well be hell as far as Cordy’s concerned. It’s hot and-far, far more dangerous to her hair and skin-humid, with dust that blows everywhere and the nearest mall over an hour away and no Starbucks and Lyla Garrity. A queen can always sight the competition, and Cordy recognizes Lyla the second she lays eyes on her. She’s determined to rule this town (even more pathetic than the one she used to call home) just as she had Sunnydale.
Making cheerleader is the first step, and it’s anything but difficult. Then come making friends with the right people (easy enough, since Cordy’s L.A.-bought fashions are more expensive than any the girls at Dillon High have ever seen. They’re so impressed that Cordy can’t help but wonder how much easier this would all be if she hadn’t had to sell most of her designer labels back in California), flirting with the right guys, and developing a (feigned) fascination with football.
And then, with one stroke of luck (Lyla being labeled a slut for sleeping with Tim Riggins while her boyfriend was lying in a hospital bed paralyzed), Cordy is crowned queen again.
It isn’t enough.
--
Cordy was never a dreamer, but that was before Dillon. In Sunnydale, she knew exactly how things would happen: after graduation, she’d move to L.A. (Daddy paying for an apartment, of course, and his credit card in her perfectly-manicured hand), and either become an actress, a model, or the wife of a very rich man. That wasn’t a dream; that was the way things would be.
But then Daddy lost all his money and fled the country, and she and Mom had to move back to Mom’s hometown (the one Cordy had never actually seen because Mom was ashamed of where she came from) and into her grandparents’ house because there was just nowhere else to go, and all of Cordy’s certainties flew away like Texas dust.
That’s when she realized that she had no one to rely on but herself.
That’s when she realized that she had to get out of the hellhole that was Dillon, Texas as soon as possible.
That’s when Cordy started dreaming.
*
Checkmate
Upper East Siders still talk about the Battle of the Queens. There has never been (nor, everyone swears, ever will be) as epic a battle as the one between Manhattanite-by-birth Blair Waldorf and California Girl transplant Cordelia Chase. It wasn’t just a clash between two strong-willed brunettes. It was a war of worldviews. Of East Coast versus West. Of California outlooks versus New York sensibilities. Of Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany’s versus Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday (one was Blair’s favorite, the other Cordy’s).
The first day of school, Cordelia strutted into the halls of Constance and the California invasion began. Blair’s eyes narrowed, Cordy tossed her hair, and war was declared.
The fallout was unparalleled. Neither girl was willing to surrender or retreat one inch. Battle lines were drawn and alliances formed (the girls who sided with Cordy because they thought she couldn’t possibly be as bitchy as Blair soon learned how wrong they were, but by then it was too late to defect). Grades and dresses and reputations were ruined, boyfriends were stolen, cutting remarks flung, but neither contender for the throne shed one tear, no matter how intense the fighting got (at least, not in public).
For months on end the students of NYC’s best prep schools held their breaths, watching the arms race that was the Cold War all over again, one they were certain would lead to a final blow-up. Manhattan Project indeed.
--
And then? The biggest anti-climax in the history of Manhattan.
--
One day (it was a Tuesday in February, in case you’re wondering) Blair and Cordelia walked into the courtyard in front of Constance arm in arm.
Best friends.
After that, Cordelia, Blair, and Serena were inseparable. Boyfriends, fashions, hot spots came and went; squabbles and falling-outs happened; but at the end of the day? They always signed the peace treaties.
--
Constance Billard is the only kingdom to ever have two queens.
*
Shopping on Mars
When he said “See all the universe has to offer,” she assumed he meant shopping. Why else would you want to run around space and time if you weren’t going to do intergalactic shopping? Besides, it seemed like a safe bet: escape from the endless fear and danger that was Sunnydale, and even Cordelia knew to be impressed by that not-very-impressive-appearing blue box that was bigger on the inside (if he would just teach her how to do that! Closets, purses, shopping bags, credit card limits: bigger on the inside? Yes, please!). No more vampires plus more shopping than Harmony Kendall could ever brag about after any L.A. trip.
Of course, on their very first trip, they end up getting attacked by some crazy purple aliens, and it’s like Sunnydale all over again except with less fangs and more slime.
Barely safe, and she ends up standing in the middle of the stupid blue box in her ruined Jimmy Choos and yelling at the crazy guy-what kind of mental patient calls himself The Doctor, anyways? How lame must his real name be?-about how all she wanted was some new shopping opportunities and that he never mentioned that life-threatening danger was part of this deal. She had quite enough of that back in Sunnydale trailing after Buffy Summers and her merry band of vampire fighters, thank you very much.
He just listens while she rants about the state of her hair, the lack of closet space in this thing, the weather on other planets, vampires and aliens, and she wants to go back to civilization (meaning California) right now!
When she finally pauses to catch her breath, he twirls the key in his hand and says, “What about Versailles?”
Well, she really can’t say no to that. After all, her mother always told her to find a nice doctor.
.