Summary: They knew each other's moves.
Author's Note: ms_scarletibis has a poll about unlikely pairings and one of her options had never occurred to me before, but I started imagining it and it was kinda hot. So here's some Cordelia/Lilah for anyone interested. Just a little lark!
They always eyed each other with a wary respect, two HBICs vying for dominance, prickly and proud and looking gorgeous all day long. A tilt of the head, a toss of the hair. A superior, all-knowing smirk.
They know each other’s moves. The put downs and the derisive looks.
Attitude, baby. They’ve got it. Others don’t.
And god dammit, it’s lonely being the only bitch on top.
Still it surprised Cordy to feel a flare when Lilah brushed against her arm when she was storming out of the Hyperion. A spark of connection and just a smidge of admiration at how Lilah marched into the lion’s den in her Manolo Blahniks, delivered her charmingly worded and oh-so-witty threat to Angel, then sashayed out like she hadn’t a care in the world.
(Later that night, Cordy went to sleep dreaming of Lilah and Angel’s confrontation, only in her dream Lilah slapped him so hard his neck snapped to the side. The shock and excitement roused Cordy from her sleep—she wasn’t sure what that meant…)
Sometimes she imagined Lilah sipping on scotch and conquering court rooms, never at a loss for words, always ready to stare a man down and teach him who’s boss.
Other times, Cordy’d wonder about the curve of Lilah’s neck or the graceful slope of her shoulders. Just in admiration though. Silent. Silent admiration.
Too bad Lilah was evil. The hellbitch had style.