Ordinary Day in an Extraordinary Life
Sometimes it's strange to be back among the living, even after all these years. Like now, for instance, as she stands in front of the sink with a vase half-full of fresh white daisies and Dawn pressed against her back, arms wrapped around her waist and lips against her neck.
Strange, but fantastic.
*
"Why do we have to go again?" Dawn's voice is muffled by her pillow and Cordelia opens her eyes and turns her head just enough to take in the sight of her long body stretched loose and languid across the cotton sheets.
She'd roll her eyes, but that would take more energy than she has at the moment so she closes them again instead. "You tell me. She's your sister."
Dawn grunts in response and Cordelia musters enough energy for a smile. She loves the sounds Dawn makes, the laughs and the sighs and the grunts and the gasps. Especially the gasps.
Several minutes later a light snore comes from the woman lying beside her and Cordelia gives a sigh or her own as she rolls herself out of bed. She could actually do without the snoring, and besides, they really do need to go. She picks up a throw pillow off of the floor and tosses it at Dawn's head.
Dawn startles awake and raises her head to glare at Cordelia. "That was just mean," she says with a pout that's threatening to break into a grin at any moment.
Cordelia shrugs and stretches, a movement that pushes her chest out and makes Dawn unconsciously lick the corner of her mouth.
"I'm a mean girl. I was a mean girl way before Rachel McAdams made it look hot, Dawnie. Just ask Buffy." She turns away to get dressed and smirks.
The truth is, Cordelia feels much less mean than she used to, but there's no reason to ruin her rep.
*
Cordelia slides the clear gloss over her lips and gives her reflection an appreciative look. Life (and death, and life again) has been very kind to her. Her hair is thick and glossy, her skin has gotten more perfect the further she moves away from adolescence, and the wrinkles she's starting to get at the very corners of her eyes she takes as proof that she spends more time smiling than crying these days.
Plus, there's always Botox.
She glances over to where Dawn is getting ready on her own side of the double vanity and watches her pull a wide-toothed comb through her wavy shoulder-length hair. Cordelia's appreciation turns from her own reflection to Dawn's, to the natural apple-pink of her cheeks and the way the dark frame of her hair makes her eyes an almost startling color of blue.
"You look great," she says, reaching over to tuck the tag into the back of Dawn's strapless dress.
Dawn glances at her in the mirror, her gaze sweeping over Cordy's reflection.
"As good as you?" Her voice is teasing but there's a hint of self-consciousness in the way Dawn smoothes a hand over the front of her dress. Cordelia knows Dawn has Buffy-sized confidence issues, even if she rarely talks about them. It's completely ridiculous as far as Cordy's concerned.
There are lots of things the old Cordelia Chase wouldn't have done, like shop anywhere with a "mart" or "barn" in the name, or wear chipped nail polish. And maybe those are bad examples because those are things the new Cordelia Chase won't do either, but the point is, she's changed. A little, or a lot, depending on whether you count living with a girl in a completely non-platonic way in the mix. She's definitely changed enough to know that being the most beautiful woman in the room isn't as important to her as it used to be.
"Nope, not as good as me. Better," she promises, and then laughs when Dawn's eyebrows rise right along with the corners of her mouth.
She actually means it.
The engagement party is nice in a way that Cordelia didn't think Willow could manage. There are no stinky herbs or boho prints in sight. There are candles, but they're part of the centerpieces instead of set in a ritual pattern and they make Giles' garden glow even more than the twinkle lights in the trees.
Dawn excuses herself to go refill her wine glass and get them a slice of the lemon meringue pie to share. Cordelia is left making small talk with Buffy and her fiancé. She's pretty sure that Buffy isn't ever going to be completely ok with the fact that Cordelia is cohabitating with her sister, but she guesses it has more to do with their history than it does with anything else and frankly, Cordy never cared that much about what Buffy Summers thought.
It's one of the things that hasn't changed.
It's been strange adjusting to the fact that Buffy is Dawn's older sister, sisters in their hearts and in their heads and everyway else that matters. Cordelia doesn't remember Dawn from before. Whatever happened to Cordy between her death and now was more powerful than monk magic and all of her knowledge about Dawn comes from 100% real-life experience. Sometimes it's strange, because Dawn does remember Cordelia from her Sunnydale days and everyone else thinks maybe Cordelia's lying so she doesn't feel like a cradle-robbing perv.
She does have to admit she's glad she doesn't remember the whiny brat Dawn apparently was, especially when she's listening to other kinds of whines through the muffle of Dawn's thighs pressing against her ears.
The thought distracts her and it's a moment before she realizes Buffy asked her a question.
*
"I'm so sorry, Cordy, it's just this one was really gross." Dawn shakes her head and takes a deep breath. "You'd think I'd be used to these by now." She picks up a napkin with one shaking hand and tries to wipe at the stain of red wine that is splashed across the chest of Cordelia's brand new dress.
Cordy makes an impatient noise in her throat and grabs Dawn's hand. She squeezes lightly until Dawn relaxes it and slips her fingers between Cordelia's.
"Been there, had the brain damage to prove it. How many times do I have to tell you that I know what it's like?" She makes her voice soft to take the sting out of the words.
It's been three years since Cordelia was resurrected by the Powers with a direct order to pass the visions onto one Dawn Summers, former key, sister to the slayer, and supernatural enough to handle the "gift" without fatal side effects. So far, so good on that front.
Still, she worries.
"Are you okay?" Cordelia uses her free hand to brush Dawns' hair back from her face. The smooth features and bright painless eyes reassure her even more than Dawn's answering nod.
"Fine, I promise. Just, I think I need to go with Buffy on this one. Make sure what I saw happen to that kid stays completely in my head."
Cordelia sighs. This isn't the way she hoped to spend her night, which really, if she thinks about it, is sort of naïve.
"You Summers girls are toxic to social lives," she gripes, but she follows Dawn, Buffy, and one of the baby slayers to the car.
*
"Ugh. Sticky, disgusting demon goop is so much worse than gum." Cordelia grimaces as she looks at the mess splattered at the bottom of her hair. She and Dawn have been trying to wash it for an hour but it's not coming out.
"Gasoline might work. It works on gum." The front of Dawn's white tank top is wet and plastered to her chest so it takes Cordy a second to understand what she's suggesting. She wrinkles her nose and glares.
"You're not putting gasoline in my hair, which is next to my face, which is on my body. Which I'm pretty sure is flammable."
Dawn shrugs, but there's a smile playing at the corner of her mouth like she's trying to hold back a laugh.
Cordelia looks in the mirror again, and frowns, knowing what has to be done even as she struggles with it. She thinks someone must be punishing her for being vain.
She takes a deep breath. "You're going to have to cut it," she says in a rush.
Dawn looks at her like she's lost her mind and Cordy wonders if maybe she has.
"Seriously. I can't exactly go to my stylist with demon goo in my hair."
"Ok, but I better get a generous tip for this." Dawn picks up a wet and slimy snarl of Cordy's hair and grimaces.
Cordy just smiles.
*
Dawn breathes heavily into the clean, damp hair above Cordelia's ear. "Nice tip," she gulps and Cordelia can't help laughing against Dawn's shoulder.
Sometimes it's strange to be back among the living, even after all these years.
Strange, but fantastic.