The Greatest of These (Birthdayverse!Cordy/Faith, R)
Title The Greatest Of These
Author Brutti ma buoni
Pairing Birthdayverse!Cordelia/Faith
Rating R
Words ~1000
Prompt for aaronlisa in the Doppelgangers round at femslash_minis, who wanted a cold night, confusion, shooters
There was something about the fangirl that totally did not compute. Many of Cordy's adoring fans were quiet in her presence, but in a beaming, possibly gibbering, "my wildest dreams have come true if not my wildest fantasies which I'm adding to right now" kind of way. This kid was sullen.
Now, Cordelia Chase understood a few things about fame, these days. Not everyone wanted to fall down and worship at the feet of a cute sitcom star. She'd been called to the bedside of a dying teenage boy whose parents asked her to grant his last wish, only to discover that he was (terminally) embarrassed to have his teen crush revealed to his friends. She had also sat with peeved kids whose fathers were using them as an alibi to get closer to Cordy. They could usually be charmed in the end.
But this girl had won a Cordy Club competition. The East Coast's greatest fan, supposedly. For that, she seemed weirdly under-involved in the whole visiting the set, Cake with Cordy extravaganza. There were tuts. And sighs.
The girl - Hope - also really didn’t know how to make the best of herself. Weirdly cute little pink dress and badly bleached Cordy-cut that did nothing for her dark looks, and no makeup at all. Cordy wondered if some makeup tips would be cool. Most fans would adore it. She got the feeling this one might respond with violence.
And the girl, Hope, was staring.
Somehow, Cordy really wasn't surprised when Hope leaned over, right up in her face in one sudden single manoeuvre, and said, "This shit? So old. C'm on."
Her ease of movement sparked something in Cordy's memory, stopped her cold. "You… I've seen you before!"
"Sure you have, Cordy," said Faith, who really wasn't called Hope. "Forgot your Sunnydale pals pretty soon, didn't you?"
This girl - Buffy's friend, one of the other Slayers - Cordy had never had a lot to do with her, and there had been some bad stuff at the end she'd never heard the truth of, or possibly hadn't listened to because Wesley was so much more pretty than he was interesting. And it was three years ago, and a lot of stuff had happened since. Good stuff, for Cordy. Really good, making Sunnydale seem like a bad dream. She'd put a lot into forgetting Sunnydale.
So she smiled. "You got me. Seems like a world away. How've you been, Faith?"
"Coma. Prison. The usual." Faith jerked her head. "Let's go. I got a mission."
Cordy obeyed.
Which was insane.
If I die tonight, people are gonna think I was a complete ditz.
And yet.
It was partly the word 'mission', which sparked memories of when saving the world seemed important. Partly the challenging grin Faith sent her and the things it did to Cordy's insides.
*
It was a blur after that. Cold outside, huddling too near to Faith's body as a startling chill ripped through the city. A car - and yes, Cordy getting into a criminal near-stranger's vehicle. Faith's mouth tilted up at one corner, in the nearest thing to a smile Cordy had seen from her so far. "I know a place."
A bar. It was a hellhole. Loud, sweaty, no class or style, beer or worse all over the floor.
And yet.
It was some kind of girls' night. Cheap liquor, leering guys. There were shooters, rainbow hued, kicking hard with vodka-burn at the back of the throat.
Faith could dance. Let loose like a wild woman on the tiny space by the bar that no sane person would call a dancefloor, but they owned that bar when they got started. Lights flickering, guys cheering and Cordy didn't care about any of it except the movement and Faith.
*
About every hour, some part of Cordy would kick in. A sane part. A part that reminded her of a filming schedule that required makeup at six the next morning. Or a part that asked who Faith was, and why Cordy had gone with her. Or a part that now remembered Sunnydale, and where the word 'mission' usually led, and knew that dancing couldn't be the only thing that Faith wanted.
But those parts could be silenced by the dancing. The movement, the beat, the pulsating want that was growing in Cordy as they wound tighter and the night got older.
Till it was dark, and the drinks and guys were long forgotten, and Cordy had her fingers up under that pink flowery disguise and into Faith's panties, tangling in her urgency to find hot slick need awaiting her. Faith was laughing-panting into her ear, hips rocking against her.
And it was then she started to talk.
"So this mission - yeah, there, that's good - supposedly you're some kinda big - uh - big psychic deal and someone worked some mojo last month which fucked up - oh, yeah, so good - fucked up what you're supposed to be. Which, uhm, world in danger maybe. So the Council - more, where you were, don't stop - they sprung me from jail and faked me in to see you and, uh, I was supposed to go undercover and find out what's the what and- Wait. I have to come now."
She did, panting warm and vigorous into Cordy's ear.
Then laughed, and nipped at her earlobe. "I never was much for undercover. You know what happened to your powers?"
"I don't have any powers," said Cordy, confused, horny and not caring about missions. "I never did."
"Huh. Shame. I'll tell the Council to get on that." Faith grinned. "Just have to find a way to pass the time till they give me new orders." She ran a finger down the front of Cordy's dress till she reached the hem. Dropping to her knees, she flipped the fabric over her own head, and yanked Cordy's expensive (new) panties impatiently away.
Cordelia Chase leant back against the wall, and tried to forget where she was, who she was with and why. Insane Council and Slayer plots, powers, whatever - those were things she'd said goodbye to years before. Tomorrow, she'd be wholesome sitcom star Cordy once again.
But Faith's tongue was present now, and needed now, and she was going to enjoy while it lasted.
*
Author Brutti ma buoni
Pairing Birthdayverse!Cordelia/Faith
Rating R
Words ~1000
Prompt for aaronlisa in the Doppelgangers round at femslash_minis, who wanted a cold night, confusion, shooters
There was something about the fangirl that totally did not compute. Many of Cordy's adoring fans were quiet in her presence, but in a beaming, possibly gibbering, "my wildest dreams have come true if not my wildest fantasies which I'm adding to right now" kind of way. This kid was sullen.
Now, Cordelia Chase understood a few things about fame, these days. Not everyone wanted to fall down and worship at the feet of a cute sitcom star. She'd been called to the bedside of a dying teenage boy whose parents asked her to grant his last wish, only to discover that he was (terminally) embarrassed to have his teen crush revealed to his friends. She had also sat with peeved kids whose fathers were using them as an alibi to get closer to Cordy. They could usually be charmed in the end.
But this girl had won a Cordy Club competition. The East Coast's greatest fan, supposedly. For that, she seemed weirdly under-involved in the whole visiting the set, Cake with Cordy extravaganza. There were tuts. And sighs.
The girl - Hope - also really didn’t know how to make the best of herself. Weirdly cute little pink dress and badly bleached Cordy-cut that did nothing for her dark looks, and no makeup at all. Cordy wondered if some makeup tips would be cool. Most fans would adore it. She got the feeling this one might respond with violence.
And the girl, Hope, was staring.
Somehow, Cordy really wasn't surprised when Hope leaned over, right up in her face in one sudden single manoeuvre, and said, "This shit? So old. C'm on."
Her ease of movement sparked something in Cordy's memory, stopped her cold. "You… I've seen you before!"
"Sure you have, Cordy," said Faith, who really wasn't called Hope. "Forgot your Sunnydale pals pretty soon, didn't you?"
This girl - Buffy's friend, one of the other Slayers - Cordy had never had a lot to do with her, and there had been some bad stuff at the end she'd never heard the truth of, or possibly hadn't listened to because Wesley was so much more pretty than he was interesting. And it was three years ago, and a lot of stuff had happened since. Good stuff, for Cordy. Really good, making Sunnydale seem like a bad dream. She'd put a lot into forgetting Sunnydale.
So she smiled. "You got me. Seems like a world away. How've you been, Faith?"
"Coma. Prison. The usual." Faith jerked her head. "Let's go. I got a mission."
Cordy obeyed.
Which was insane.
If I die tonight, people are gonna think I was a complete ditz.
And yet.
It was partly the word 'mission', which sparked memories of when saving the world seemed important. Partly the challenging grin Faith sent her and the things it did to Cordy's insides.
*
It was a blur after that. Cold outside, huddling too near to Faith's body as a startling chill ripped through the city. A car - and yes, Cordy getting into a criminal near-stranger's vehicle. Faith's mouth tilted up at one corner, in the nearest thing to a smile Cordy had seen from her so far. "I know a place."
A bar. It was a hellhole. Loud, sweaty, no class or style, beer or worse all over the floor.
And yet.
It was some kind of girls' night. Cheap liquor, leering guys. There were shooters, rainbow hued, kicking hard with vodka-burn at the back of the throat.
Faith could dance. Let loose like a wild woman on the tiny space by the bar that no sane person would call a dancefloor, but they owned that bar when they got started. Lights flickering, guys cheering and Cordy didn't care about any of it except the movement and Faith.
*
About every hour, some part of Cordy would kick in. A sane part. A part that reminded her of a filming schedule that required makeup at six the next morning. Or a part that asked who Faith was, and why Cordy had gone with her. Or a part that now remembered Sunnydale, and where the word 'mission' usually led, and knew that dancing couldn't be the only thing that Faith wanted.
But those parts could be silenced by the dancing. The movement, the beat, the pulsating want that was growing in Cordy as they wound tighter and the night got older.
Till it was dark, and the drinks and guys were long forgotten, and Cordy had her fingers up under that pink flowery disguise and into Faith's panties, tangling in her urgency to find hot slick need awaiting her. Faith was laughing-panting into her ear, hips rocking against her.
And it was then she started to talk.
"So this mission - yeah, there, that's good - supposedly you're some kinda big - uh - big psychic deal and someone worked some mojo last month which fucked up - oh, yeah, so good - fucked up what you're supposed to be. Which, uhm, world in danger maybe. So the Council - more, where you were, don't stop - they sprung me from jail and faked me in to see you and, uh, I was supposed to go undercover and find out what's the what and- Wait. I have to come now."
She did, panting warm and vigorous into Cordy's ear.
Then laughed, and nipped at her earlobe. "I never was much for undercover. You know what happened to your powers?"
"I don't have any powers," said Cordy, confused, horny and not caring about missions. "I never did."
"Huh. Shame. I'll tell the Council to get on that." Faith grinned. "Just have to find a way to pass the time till they give me new orders." She ran a finger down the front of Cordy's dress till she reached the hem. Dropping to her knees, she flipped the fabric over her own head, and yanked Cordy's expensive (new) panties impatiently away.
Cordelia Chase leant back against the wall, and tried to forget where she was, who she was with and why. Insane Council and Slayer plots, powers, whatever - those were things she'd said goodbye to years before. Tomorrow, she'd be wholesome sitcom star Cordy once again.
But Faith's tongue was present now, and needed now, and she was going to enjoy while it lasted.
*