Author:
Beta: lornelover.
For: goddess_loki.
Pairing: Cordelia/Lindsey.
Rating: NC17.
Setting: "Five by Five"-ish.
For: The I Will Remember You Ficathon.
Kind of moment you want lost: One where he decides to leave W&H.
Up to three other characters you want in the story: Lilah, Gavin, Holland.
Up to four prompts/things to include: Lindsey strumming his guitar, a case going badly, a headache, looking down from the top of the W&H building.
Summary: Lindsey worries about the post-Angel restructuring of W&H and how he'll fit in.
Lindsey loosened his tie. With that joker Angel disappearing from the map, the office was unsettled to say the least. Holland was bidding for another top position, but Lilah was trying to beat them both down in the name of evil womanhood.
Normally, he'd head to Caritas and strum a few for the Host (A fare more reliable source for information on the future than Wolfram & Hart psychics.), but that was where every typist to project manager would be lined up waiting for their chance to croon "I'm Turning Japanese."
No, Lindsey preferred to think, and there was no better place than the top of Wolfram & Hart. Thankfully, the current CEO was either on a retreat in Nepal or a conference in the Glaxis dimension. And no one important noticed the lone lawyer climbing up the back stairwell.
At night the skyline didn't show the dirt of the day. Space was definitely the next place they were going. Area 51 his ass. The firm's scientists had conveniently snatched up all the abandoned spaceships, leaving the government to calm the people with stories of weather balloons. Maybe they'd send him up in a spaceship to negotiate treaties in the next star system.
Knowing his luck, Lindsey would end up with an impossible case to solve. His client today had received 10 years in prison for embezzlement. The guy was a bastard and guilty as sin, but Lindsey didn't like to lose.
He wished he would've had the foresight to bring a case of beer with him or maybe order a hooker. The company had a few reputable agencies they used for certain clients' needs.
It wasn't fair that Angel could just disappear as quickly as he came on the scene. Lindsey's success had taken years, years of schooling and working his way up the chain of command. But Angel was in L.A. for two seconds before they created a fucking division just to destroy him.
His hand slammed against the mortar of the building. He'd never been this worked up before. Usually competing players in the game of good versus evil came and left, preferably left. But there was something too fishy about this, something about Angel that crawled under his skin.
The skyline hadn't brought him the same comfort as it usually did. He took one last look at the city lights before turning on his heels and heading down the stairwell.
As Lindsey drove back to his home, his knuckles turned white against the steering wheel. He longed to punch someone, to fuck a beautiful woman, to shout at that bastard Angel. He knew that he could beat Angel, could have the vampire begging for his life and doing whatever the hell the Senior Partners had planned for him.
Instead of turning onto his street, Lindsey angled his truck down toward a street lined with bars. If there was any better night to get shit-faced on cheap beer, he hadn't met it.
The door to the bar creaked as Lindsey entered. Stale smoke filled the place. A single jukebox sat in the corner, stuck on a mixture of Warrant and Willie Nelson. No one from Wolfram & Hart would bother him here.
He sat on a stool, ordering beer, which was cold and watered-down. It reminded him of his father, sitting in his uncle's rundown trailer with a can of PBR in one hand and the classifieds in another. He downed half the drink in one go.
"And then he fires me," a woman next to him spoke loudly to the bartender. "It's not a real firing. He's just lost his ability to do the job. All for his one true love." Lindsey watched as she rolled her eyes dramatically. "But some of us still need to be able to afford tampons, you know."
Her blue shirt pulled tightly over her breasts; Lindsey was sure that she'd never been in a place like this before. She probably started at the trendy club on the corner before every bartender, except this one, cut her off.
"Yeah. Jobs suck," Lindsey grumbled. He held his second beer.
Turning toward him, her hand touched his arm. "God, yes. If you don't already want to quit because you're afraid that your boss might go homicidal, no one else can ever buy fresh donuts."
"And when you finally get someone under you, they don't know a strong cup of coffee from their ass," Lindsey added. Misery loved company; especially one with a pretty face and one who Lindsey was sure didn't work for Wolfram & Hart.
She downed her drink, slamming it down on the bar. "Cordelia." She offered him her hand.
Her hand felt soft in his. "Lindsey." He signaled the bartender for another round.
Cordelia smiled at him when their drink came. "A real gentleman you are, Lindsey. To crappy jobs that required your sweat, blood, and tears and destroyed my brand-new Christian Lacroix." She lifted her rum and coke to toast with him.
"To crappy jobs." Sweat and blood where something Wolfram & Hart took rather literally compared to what he was sure Cordelia referred to. He tipped his head back. "Thos are shoes, right?"
"Smart, too. I guess this firing thing's what I get for working with a monster." Cordelia frowned.
Lindsey moved his stool closer to her. "My bosses are definitely not human. I saw a guy give a limb for a treaty negotiation and they still sent him home in a box when it fell apart." He had thought he would make a difference working for the largest law firm in existence. Of course, the money and benefits softened the blow. "At least they pay me well, and I'm moving up the ladder."
"There wasn't even a glass ceiling for me to break. No ceiling, no moving." Cordelia stirred her drink with a straw. "And pay," she snorted, "such a cheap ass for someone who's such a label queen."
The more Lindsey looked at Cordelia, the more he wanted to take her home. "Why don't we head to my place? Wouldn't want you driving home by yourself."
Cordelia poked his chest. "You're just as drunk as me, Lindsey."
"Yeah, but there are nasty things in L.A. that would eat a pretty girl like you." Lindsey finished his beer and waited for her response.
"You're not a vamp, are you? Trying to lure me into your lair?" Cordelia teased, but he could've swore he saw her peaking at his reflection in the bar's dirty windows.
Lindsey laughed. His thoughts drifted to Angel once again. "Personally, I hate vamps." He caught himself before going any further and added, "I had some horrible freshman English prof that tortured us with Dracula and its metaphors." His hand reached for her wrist. "What do you say?"
"Oh, why the hell not." Cordelia stood with Lindsey's help, wobbling on her heels. Her short skirt rode up her perfectly tanned thighs.
He managed to get them back to his apartment without being pulled over. Not that one flash of his Wolfram & Hart business card wouldn't prevent any member of the LAPD from giving him a ticket, but he'd rather not have the bosses hear that he was stopped.
Purse dangling from her arm, Cordelia's hand reached for his belt as soon as the apartment door shut. Her mouth tasted sweet like cola as she kissed him, and Lindsey pulled her toward the bedroom. She collapsed on top him when his knees hit the bed.
Lindsey grunted. "God, you taste good." His hands moved up her skirt, pulling her tiny thong down her legs. She shivered in his arms as his thumb brushed over her clit.
Cordelia rolled them over, her on her back. She gripped his wrist, placing his hand back down to her wet cunt. He grinned as she moaned loudly at his touch.
Lifting his hips, Lindsey allowed her to pull down his pants, boxers with them. Their movements were clumsy and fluid like the alcohol they'd consumed, taking at least three tries to get his pants around his knees. Neither of them bothered to kick off their shoes.
When he thrust into her, Cordelia's eyes opened, staring into his. He licked his lips and started kissing her again. Groaning, he felt her nails on his ass, scraping against it. With a shudder, he came. He didn't ask if she was done, only pulled out and rolled over.
Lindsey's alarm bleeped in his ear, and he grunted as he rolled over and turned it off. No doubt, the bosses would want him there on time and hangover free. He looked over to the other side of his bed; Cordelia was gone.
Shaking his head, he stripped of his clothing and grabbed his towel. His wallet lay open on his dresser. One of his business cards was pulled out: Lindsey McDonald, Wolfram & Hart.