Title: The Bet
Author: swizza (aka Mistress Pip)
Disclaimer: If I was Joss Whedon, would I really be writing this? No, I'd be off trying to atone for Season 6.
Distribution: Find it and want it, then ask and you shall receive.
Spoilers: Anything up to 'Slouching Towards Bethlehem' is game. You kinda need to have seen that episode to get the whole bet thing, really.
Summary: How did Wesley and Lilah come to making that bet?
~~~~~
"Well..." murmured Lilah, flopping with inimitable grace onto the mattress next to her lover, "That was... not at all time-consuming."
"I thought time was money, Lilah."
"That it is," she agreed, curling up on one side. "So... does that make you cheap?"
"Undoubtedly." Wesley shifted until he was beside Lilah, and she almost instinctively curled her head under his chin as her nails began their never ending exploration of his torso. "But what does that make you?"
"Oh, I don't know. You're the wordy one in this thing, Wes, I'm more a hands-on kinda gal. You know what I mean?"
Wesley raised an eyebrow at her, half expecting a demonstration, but was not wholly unsurprised when Lilah instead only gave him that patented smirk and rolled out of bed, picking up a shoe en route to her skirt, which had somehow gotten thrown across the room, partially obscuring a table lamp. Not for the first time in their two months together, Wesley wondered just how her clothes managed to fly so far on their own, as he was sure that neither of them put much effort into disposing of them, just as long as they were removed from the immediate line of fire, as it were.
"Hey, I'm the only one allowed to smirk here, Mister."
Lilah had dressed whilst he mused, and looked perfect as ever. Wesley shook his head, again wondering just how the epitome of Wolfram & Hart standing in front of him could always manage to look so damned professional so quickly, and levelled his dark gaze with her mildly amused one.
"Would you rather I scowl?" Wesley couldn't hold back his own amusement any longer, and chuckled aloud, a half smile playing across his features.
Lilah snickered alongside him for a few seconds, before tossing her perpetually shiny hair over her shoulder and glaring knowingly at him. In her designer suit and flawless make-up, she was quite an imposing if haughty figure, Wesley reflected.
"Just be here when I get back tonight, ok? We've got a late meeting and-"
"Sorry, I'm working late, too." Getting up, Wesley wrapped the sheet around his waist and prowled over to his desk, fiddling with a haphazard pile of papers there. "I've got some people - so to speak - to see. I should be finished by one, though. So if your team can wreck enough lives by then..."
"You'll be ready and waiting?" The smirk was firmly attached to her ruby red lips now, along with the sarcastic glint in her eyes.
Wesley had managed to learn a thing in the two months he had been with Lilah, one of the first of said lessons being the distinguished ability to speak with his eyes. Now it was his turn to glare, albeit with a little sardonic humour present, and he glued her to the spot.
"Lilah, I hate to disillusion you, but I do not sit around waiting for you all day while you earn the bread."
Turning back to the concoction of data adorning his once pristine desk and wisely deciding to place the photos of Cordelia's car under some more innocent looking maps, Wesley felt a pair of slender feminine arms surrounding his waist, and looked down to see ten scarlet talons playing with the edge of the sheet he was wearing.
"Ah, and here was me thinking that you were the skirt-wearing one in this relationship."
"You're wearing a skirt too, Lilah," he reminded her, "And I thought we agreed not to use that word."
A soft laugh tickled the back of his neck as she moved away with almost preternatural grace, silent as a panther even in her stilettos. She picked up her impossibly small and shiny bag from where it had been discarded on the sheet deficient mattress, and made her way towards the door as he turned to lean on the edge of the cluttered wooden desk. When she reached it, she seemed struck with an idea, and an amusing one at that. She allowed herself a smile and an almost inaudible chuckle before turning back to Wesley, and leaning on the door.
For a few seconds neither said a word. Lilah, leaning against the door, observed Wesley as he similarly reclined against the desk. When Wesley's gaze faltered, and his eyes drifted back to the jumbled pile of reports and maps littering his disorganised desk, Lilah spoke up.
"You know..." she said, sliding a pace forward, "If you want a challenge, I can make you an offer you won't be able to refuse."
Wesley took a pace forward himself, quirking an eyebrow at his lover before moving towards his closet in search of a shirt and jeans. When he noticed her silence, as he knew she wanted him to, he strode back out, threw the now unneeded sheet onto the bed and sank down onto the sofa gracing one wall of his apartment. He looked at her, but when she only smiled like a cat who knows the canary can't escape, he acquiesced.
"And what, exactly, is this offer?"
"Why Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, I didn't know you cared-"
"I seldom do."
Lilah ignored him, blithely continuing with her offer. "Anyway, what do you say to a bet?" When a questioning glance and a 'continue' gesture were all she was supplied with, she cut to the chase of her speech. "The next person to say the oh-so-dreaded 'R' word, has to pay up."
Finally, she had his full attention. Wesley fixed both eyes solely on her for a few seconds, as if searching her face for any trickery or catch. He obviously found none, as he smiled slightly before saying, "And how much would we be talking about?"
"Ooh... not much. I don't like to take from those less... fortunate than me. Shall we say... a dollar?"
"A dollar? That much?" Another important lesson Wesley had learned from Lilah Morgan, lawyer extraordinaire: sarcasm is all-important. However, the former Watcher was playing alongside the best.
"Well, I'm a kind-hearted soul, I don't want to steal from the poor."
"I thought I was cheap, not poor."
That had her. She smiled a rarely seen unabashed smile and laughed along with him.
"So," she began, once their mirth had subsided to small smiles, "The first person to say it has to pay up one dollar. Do we have a deal?"
She extended one perfectly manicured hand to him. He stared at it, before climbing to his feet and taking her hand in his.
"We have a deal, Lilah."
Author: swizza (aka Mistress Pip)
Disclaimer: If I was Joss Whedon, would I really be writing this? No, I'd be off trying to atone for Season 6.
Distribution: Find it and want it, then ask and you shall receive.
Spoilers: Anything up to 'Slouching Towards Bethlehem' is game. You kinda need to have seen that episode to get the whole bet thing, really.
Summary: How did Wesley and Lilah come to making that bet?
~~~~~
"Well..." murmured Lilah, flopping with inimitable grace onto the mattress next to her lover, "That was... not at all time-consuming."
"I thought time was money, Lilah."
"That it is," she agreed, curling up on one side. "So... does that make you cheap?"
"Undoubtedly." Wesley shifted until he was beside Lilah, and she almost instinctively curled her head under his chin as her nails began their never ending exploration of his torso. "But what does that make you?"
"Oh, I don't know. You're the wordy one in this thing, Wes, I'm more a hands-on kinda gal. You know what I mean?"
Wesley raised an eyebrow at her, half expecting a demonstration, but was not wholly unsurprised when Lilah instead only gave him that patented smirk and rolled out of bed, picking up a shoe en route to her skirt, which had somehow gotten thrown across the room, partially obscuring a table lamp. Not for the first time in their two months together, Wesley wondered just how her clothes managed to fly so far on their own, as he was sure that neither of them put much effort into disposing of them, just as long as they were removed from the immediate line of fire, as it were.
"Hey, I'm the only one allowed to smirk here, Mister."
Lilah had dressed whilst he mused, and looked perfect as ever. Wesley shook his head, again wondering just how the epitome of Wolfram & Hart standing in front of him could always manage to look so damned professional so quickly, and levelled his dark gaze with her mildly amused one.
"Would you rather I scowl?" Wesley couldn't hold back his own amusement any longer, and chuckled aloud, a half smile playing across his features.
Lilah snickered alongside him for a few seconds, before tossing her perpetually shiny hair over her shoulder and glaring knowingly at him. In her designer suit and flawless make-up, she was quite an imposing if haughty figure, Wesley reflected.
"Just be here when I get back tonight, ok? We've got a late meeting and-"
"Sorry, I'm working late, too." Getting up, Wesley wrapped the sheet around his waist and prowled over to his desk, fiddling with a haphazard pile of papers there. "I've got some people - so to speak - to see. I should be finished by one, though. So if your team can wreck enough lives by then..."
"You'll be ready and waiting?" The smirk was firmly attached to her ruby red lips now, along with the sarcastic glint in her eyes.
Wesley had managed to learn a thing in the two months he had been with Lilah, one of the first of said lessons being the distinguished ability to speak with his eyes. Now it was his turn to glare, albeit with a little sardonic humour present, and he glued her to the spot.
"Lilah, I hate to disillusion you, but I do not sit around waiting for you all day while you earn the bread."
Turning back to the concoction of data adorning his once pristine desk and wisely deciding to place the photos of Cordelia's car under some more innocent looking maps, Wesley felt a pair of slender feminine arms surrounding his waist, and looked down to see ten scarlet talons playing with the edge of the sheet he was wearing.
"Ah, and here was me thinking that you were the skirt-wearing one in this relationship."
"You're wearing a skirt too, Lilah," he reminded her, "And I thought we agreed not to use that word."
A soft laugh tickled the back of his neck as she moved away with almost preternatural grace, silent as a panther even in her stilettos. She picked up her impossibly small and shiny bag from where it had been discarded on the sheet deficient mattress, and made her way towards the door as he turned to lean on the edge of the cluttered wooden desk. When she reached it, she seemed struck with an idea, and an amusing one at that. She allowed herself a smile and an almost inaudible chuckle before turning back to Wesley, and leaning on the door.
For a few seconds neither said a word. Lilah, leaning against the door, observed Wesley as he similarly reclined against the desk. When Wesley's gaze faltered, and his eyes drifted back to the jumbled pile of reports and maps littering his disorganised desk, Lilah spoke up.
"You know..." she said, sliding a pace forward, "If you want a challenge, I can make you an offer you won't be able to refuse."
Wesley took a pace forward himself, quirking an eyebrow at his lover before moving towards his closet in search of a shirt and jeans. When he noticed her silence, as he knew she wanted him to, he strode back out, threw the now unneeded sheet onto the bed and sank down onto the sofa gracing one wall of his apartment. He looked at her, but when she only smiled like a cat who knows the canary can't escape, he acquiesced.
"And what, exactly, is this offer?"
"Why Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, I didn't know you cared-"
"I seldom do."
Lilah ignored him, blithely continuing with her offer. "Anyway, what do you say to a bet?" When a questioning glance and a 'continue' gesture were all she was supplied with, she cut to the chase of her speech. "The next person to say the oh-so-dreaded 'R' word, has to pay up."
Finally, she had his full attention. Wesley fixed both eyes solely on her for a few seconds, as if searching her face for any trickery or catch. He obviously found none, as he smiled slightly before saying, "And how much would we be talking about?"
"Ooh... not much. I don't like to take from those less... fortunate than me. Shall we say... a dollar?"
"A dollar? That much?" Another important lesson Wesley had learned from Lilah Morgan, lawyer extraordinaire: sarcasm is all-important. However, the former Watcher was playing alongside the best.
"Well, I'm a kind-hearted soul, I don't want to steal from the poor."
"I thought I was cheap, not poor."
That had her. She smiled a rarely seen unabashed smile and laughed along with him.
"So," she began, once their mirth had subsided to small smiles, "The first person to say it has to pay up one dollar. Do we have a deal?"
She extended one perfectly manicured hand to him. He stared at it, before climbing to his feet and taking her hand in his.
"We have a deal, Lilah."