Hand Me Downs (Buffy/Cordelia, PG-13)

[carlyinrome]

Buffy has a powerful need—a need so strong that it feels innate, instinctual—to ensure that no living soul finds out about her and Cordelia. I mean: it’s Cordelia. It’s a step up from dating Spike. Not even a big step. A tiny little half step better than bedding the bleached. Cordelia is mouthy and annoying and stuck up and vile, and okay maybe she has an incredible body and her skin is softer than couture silk and she tastes like sugar and champagne, but it’s still not the kind of thing you want to advertise.

Still. The best part about dating Cordelia might be her wardrobe, and Buffy is so in love with the midnight black suede and silk knee-high boots that Cordelia hadn’t even gotten out of the box yet that she wears them in public. And all day, admiring the sheen of the silk, the incredible luxe softness of the suede hugging her calf, all she can think of is the night before, modeling them for Cordelia in her campaign to be allowed to borrow them, in these fabulous boots and nothing else, Cordelia’s agile lips curling further and further, despite her attempts to appear cool and unmoved, until Cordelia is grinning and laughing and tackling her to the bed. And when Cordelia sees her walking the halls with her friends, Cordelia’s eyes scour over her and Buffy feels, if just for a brief ticklish moment, like she’s back in that room, naked and entreating, and she can tell by Cordelia’s lingering predatory stare that they are thinking the exact same thing.