Title: Barely Legal

Author: Settiai

Disclaimer: "Angel" and other related characters are all properties of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and other related corporations. No infringement is intended. This story, such as it is, was written as a sign of respect and love for the characters, the show, and their creator. I claim no ownership of the aforementioned show and characters.

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Everyone experiments.

Feedback: Comments and helpful criticisms are always appreciated.

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Everyone experiments.

In Nina's case, her senior year of high school was a time of transitions… and, also, a time of experimentation. For the past three years, she had been the quiet art student who stayed on the fringes of the cliques that made up the student body. She didn't fit smoothly into any one group, but she was welcome in most of them. Everyone knew her as the nice girl who'd never do anything to ruin her spotless reputation.

Two hours into the first day of her senior year, she let the school slut Marie drag her into the nearest broom closet, where they spent the next two class periods making out. Rumors were flying before they even reemerged.

It wasn't that Nina wanted to suddenly rebel. She just realized that she had always done exactly what was expected of her, instead of what she really wanted.

On her eighteenth birthday, Nina celebrated the day by making out with some British guy named Ethan who was old enough to be her father. She never got his last name, and she didn't really think it was important. He wasn't anything special, just someone who had been lucky enough to catch her eye. It was just another name to add to "what have I never done before?" list.

That's how she met Lilah.

It started out as just another harmless fling. Quite a few people in Los Angeles, both male and female, seemed to find someone who was just barely legal more than a little tempting, and Nina used that to her advantage whenever she decided to add a little color to her otherwise boring life. Lilah Morgan was just another name for her list, and she probably would have remained nothing more than that if only one thing had gone differently.

When she left, she gave Nina her cell phone number.

"Call me sometime," Lilah said with a wink. "I'm sure the two of us can think of a fun way to spend the time."

Lilah wasn't the first one of Nina's flings to leave a number, but there was something about the older woman that kept her from tossing it into the nearest trashcan.

It was almost a month later when Lilah suddenly sat down beside Nina at a local restaurant.

Nina froze, her cheeseburger halfway up to her mouth, and she stared at Lilah for several seconds. Then she realized what she was doing, and she quickly lay her food back down on her plate. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Lilah just smirked. "I have the day off," she said, shrugging, "and I thought you might be just what I needed to spice up an otherwise boring day."

When Nina just kept staring at her, Lilah rolled her eyes. Then, without saying a word, she leaned in and planted a hungry kiss on Nina's lips.

Several wolf-whistles rang out through the restaurant, and Nina quickly pulled away as her face turned bright red. Even though she was embarrassed, she managed to come up with a fairly cheeky grin of her own. "I can live with that."

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Nina hadn't planned on painting Lilah in the nude, but she immediately changed her mind when she walked into the small studio a friend let her use and saw that the other woman was completely undressed except a mischievous grin. Mentally adding 'painting nude portrait featuring non-exclusive girlfriend of three months' to her ever-growing list, Nina didn't break stride as she pulled out the canvas and went to work.

As she painted, Lilah told her stories about working as a lawyer. Nina knew that some of them were probably exaggerated, just as others were most likely edited down to spare her. "And, of course, we have one particular thorn in our side who just won't go away."

Nina blinked when she realized there something pointed in Lilah's voice, as if there was a certain reason the older woman was telling her that. "What kind of a thorn?" she asked curiously, looking up from her painting for just a moment.

Lilah smiled, and for some reason it sent a cold shiver down Nina's back. "He's a private investigator," she replied. "I obviously can't tell you his name… but let's just say he has a personal grudge against quite a few of our clients. He thinks he's a hero, protecting the city and atoning for quite a few sins in the process."

Still not sure why Lilah was telling her that particular story, Nina turned her attention back to the painting. "Can't you arrest him then?" she asked. "I mean, they don't deserve to have some detective harassing them."

For a moment, Lilah didn't say anything. "I forget just how naïve you can be," she finally said with a cold chuckle. "Who says they don't deserve to have him after them?"

"What?"

Lilah smiled as Nina turned her attention from the painting. "Wolfram & Hart protects a wide variety of clients," she said. "Some of them are very… colorful." She gestured toward the canvas.

Nina immediately looked back at the painting, grimacing when she saw that a single drop of blue paint had fell from her paintbrush, streak down the middle of the half-finished painting. "It's ruined," she whispered.

Without saying a word, Lilah made her way over to the canvas and stared at the streak of blue. Then she reached out and carefully took the paint brush from Nina's hand, smiling a tiny bit as she carefully streaked the blue paint across her skin. "It looks fine to me," she said with a shrug, leaning in to press her lips against Nina's for just a moment.

That was the last time Nina ever saw her.

A few years later, when Nina rested against Angel's chest as he told her stories about his life in Los Angeles before Wolfram and Hart, she let her imagination provide faces for the names in his stories. Doyle, Kate, Darla, Gavin. Her mind gave them colors and brought them to life, even though she had never -- and would never -- meet them.

When he told stories about a lawyer named Lilah, though, she didn't make up a face. Instead, all that she pictured was a solitary streak of blue standing out against pale flesh.