Title: Id
Author: Katharine
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Smut in a storm. Cordelia's car breaks down, guess who she has to ask for a lift?
Disclaimer: Property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy et al.
Notes: Set during season 3 BtVS, otherwise, it's pretty AU.
"Wet bus stop / She's waiting / His car is warm and dry" - Sting,
`Don't Stand So Close to Me'
Distribution: Want, take, have. Let me know where it went.
Feedback: Please don't make me beg ;)

She would have brought an umbrella, if she had realised that California was experiencing Indian weather.

Cordelia wrapped her arms around herself, and continued to count the number of leaks in the roof. Every so often, a new one would disclose itself - more often than not, just above her head - and the area it was safe to stand in would get smaller and smaller, until she was confined to a very small corner of the shelter. This had progressed beyond a tropical storm. It was a full fledged monsoon. The roads had become rivers, and simply standing in the rain was much akin to being bludgeoned by a thousand tiny baseball bats. There was no question of walking home. There was no question of even walking to a pay phone to call the mechanics. The school was locked up for the weekend - there was no way in. She was well and truly stuck until the rain stopped - it could be hours. Her wet shirt was clinging to her, cold water trickling down her arms.

Clearly, the perfect day for her car to break down. Since she'd been standing in the bus shelter, she'd seen a total of two cars pass, the drivers of which she didn't recognise. The odds of that happening to Cordelia Chase were miniscule. She prided herself on knowing everyone at Sunnydale High, yet, when freezing to death just outside the school, only strangers materialise from the ether.

This had to be supernatural.

~

"...paranormal phenomena, native to Brazil, spreading over the last millennia through Southern America, most notably Mexico, Chile...."

Giles sighed as the voice droned on and on, informing him in superior tones of facts he learnt while still at university. Sometimes he wondered if Wyndam-Pryce had actually memorised the Twilight Compendium. Even in the windowless library, he could hear the subject of Wesley's fascination damaging the shoddy tiles of the roof, and wondered how many inches of water he would find in his kitchen.

"... but the rain in Spain stays mainly in the plane..."

He also wondered if he would indeed be able to get home, or if his car had been flattened under the pressure of the water, pounded flat to the ground. It was unlikely there was anything to worry about - the rust would hold it together.

"...Hertfordshire and Hampshire, hurricanes hardly ever happen."

A blissfully long silence, free of his colleague's nasal intonations, caught his attention. Usually, this was an indication that the cretin had made a conjecture of some kind, and was waiting for affirmation. Loath to break the aura of peace that had finally settled, accompanied by the hypnotic beat of the downpour, he blinked a few times, and looked up at Wesley's disdainful features.

"Good point."

Wesley sharply inhaled. "Mr Giles, could I draw your attention to the urgency of this situation? This is no ordinary deluge! It has the power to force individuals to succumb to their most primal instincts, to operate entirely according to the will of the id, the pleasure principle."

"Truly, I'm shocked. Having lived on the Hellmouth for three years - as opposed to your few months - I could never predict that a simple storm could prove to be so sinister," Giles drily observed, walking to coat stand. "And if that's the only pressing matter of the moment, I'm sure I can safely leave it in your hands. It's four o'clock, and I must return home before the living room becomes a lake." Donning his jacket, he made a quick exit, before he could be further delayed. Before the door swung shut behind him, he heard Pryce's voice echo down the hallway.

"Mr Giles, as Watcher, I order that...."

"Pompous arse," Giles muttered.

~

She had convinced herself that she was going to die here. Cold, wet and alone. Seeing as she faced death on a daily basis, living where she did, it struck her as a pathetic, humiliating way to go. Under the teeth of a vampire, you're a helpless victim. Saving the world, you're a hero. In a small, rickety bus shelter, found weeks later by a group of pensioners, you're a colossal loser. She could just see the epitaph - `Cordelia Chase, Her Bus Never Came'. What would people think of her? She shuddered; whether from the morbidity or the cold, she was unsure.

Through the constant, deafening noise of the torrent, she suddenly thought she heard something a little different.After another couple of seconds of silence, she decided that she was hallucinating, that death truly was on her heels. And there it was again. The spluttering sound of a car engine, followed by a man's voice. "Bugger!" She recognised that voice. Temporarily insane with hope, she dashed out of her makeshift sanctuary, and scanned the nearby parking lot. She never thought she would be so glad to see that horrible lump of scrap metal.

Running as fast as she could, the supposedly rubber soles of her gym shoes causing her to slip countless times on the wet tarmac, she flung open the car door, and all but vaulted into the passenger seat. Slamming the door on the elements, she pulled down the overhead mirror, and grimaced at the streaks of mascara running the length of her face.

"That was waterproof! God! Never trust a saleswoman!" Grabbing the tissue offered to her, she wiped the water from her face, then finalled turned to her left. "Hi," she said to a much bemused, and ever so slightly amused Giles. "You don't mind, right? I've been standing in that... thing, for the last half hour, waiting for a knight in shining armour to rescue me." She glanced at the battered brown body of the car. "This'll have to do."

"Cheerleading practice?" he asked, noting the scraps of material the squad liked to call a uniform.

"Would have been if any of those halfwits had bothered to turn up. Geez, you'd think it wouldn't be so much to ask. Hey, you're British, you know a little bit of rain can't hurt anyone, right?" By this point, her teeth were chattering so much it was a strain for him to understand her rantings. Reaching over to the back seat, he pulled out a checked picnic rug that had taken up residence there, and handed it to her.

"Wrap that around you before you catch your death of cold."

Pulling the warm, dry material close, she continued to rant. "And I told my parents that there was something wrong with my convertible, but would they... oh, Jesus! The roof is down, it's going to be full of water!"

"Do you want to...?" he asked as he threw his own soaked tweed jacket behind them.

"Screw it, there is no way I'm going out there again. In that weather, it's either me or it. The leather'll be ruined by now anyway. My parents are just going to have to pay for the whole thing to be reupholstered. Should teach them not to ignore my instincts, anyway. I mean, so I'm wrong just once, doesn't mean that...." as she kept talking, he tried the keys in the ignition again. The engine gave out one feeble splutter, but refused to start. He had tried it three times, when she suddenly leaned over him and covered his hand with her own, other hand rested on his thigh to keep herself steady.

"Here, let me try." Shrugging, he removed his hand.

"I suppose there's no harm in it, Cordelia, but it looks as if..." he was cut off in mid flow by the engine lurching into life. "How did you - amazing." Throwing herself back into the passenger seat, she smiled sweetly at him.

"I do my best. So, since I've rescued you from sitting here until Monday morning, you couldn't return the favour and give me a lift home, could you?

"It would be my pleasure," he answered as he pulled out onto the road, the rain continuing to pound his car into a new shape. They sat in silence for a few minutes, steam rising from their bodies. Every so often, Giles would have to wipe the inside of the windscreen with his sleeve - not that it made any difference. The windscreen wipers simply weren't built to handle these conditions. A boat would be an infinitely more sensible mode of transport. The road ahead was entirely flooded, and bright diversion signs erected. "Bloody hell..." he muttered, following the arrows that were clearly taking them right out of Sunnydale.

"Looks like this might be a longer drive than we thought, huh?" Cordelia said. He simply grunted in reply, and silence prevailed again. She shifted a little in her seat, feeling the water from her clothes begin to soak into the blanket and the upholstery. The warm, dry interior of the car was swiftly becoming humid and damp. She hated long silences. Being a talkative person by nature, there was nothing worse.

"Mind if I turn the radio on?" she asked, wincing at the sound of her own voice cutting through the silence, only magnified by the contrast of the sound of the rain.

"Not at all," he answered. She reached forward, and attempted to tune the ancient device to a station. Most of the frequencies seemed to have been blocked out by the storm, and white noise was all she could seem to draw from it. Finally, she found some sort of public announcements service.

"And finally, the small town of Sunnydale is again experiencing freak weather conditions, for the second time in fewer months - this time, an isolated rainstorm of a magnitude unheard of in these regions. Meteorologists are unable to provide any information as to its duration at this time, but we are hoping to receive more information at any moment, so stay tuned. Now, here's Phil with the sport..." Cordy flicked the switch off and sighed.

"You know, if I didn't know for sure we were living on a Hellmouth, I think I would have worked it out by now." She glanced at Giles, and was pleased to see he was grinning broadly. "I suppose all this rain is making you homesick."

"I don't know... it tends to drizzle rather than rain in England."

"Wow, look at us, discussing the weather. So, how's your health?"

A sudden clunking noise broke them from the moment of levity. The engine cut out, and the car rolled to a stop.

"What... the hell was that? Giles?"

He groaned. "I have absolutely no idea. It likes to surprise me every so often. Damn!"

"Didn't I tell you that this was a no-good pile of crap? Shit, we're going to be stuck out here for hours! Where is `here'?" she asked, wiping the window until she could almost see out.

"If my calculations are correct, `here' is somewhere between the school and Los Angeles. I think," he added, suddenly a little nervous of his navigational skills. The diversion had taken them away from any roads he knew, and the weather made even old roads take on a whole new guise.

"Damnit, there must be a payphone around here somewhere! I'll be back in a minute," Cordy yelled over the din of the storm as she shrugged off the blanket, and opened the door.

"Cordelia, close the door this instant!"

"Oh, you have a better plan?" She raised an eyebrow.

"We could... stay here, and..."

"Didn't think so," she said, hopping out and into the rain, which was falling heavier than ever.

"What are you - has all common sense departed you, you daft bint?" Giles shouted after her, also leaping out and into the downpour. As soon as the water hit him, his shirt was plastered to his body, as if had taken a shower fully clothed. Cordelia had stopped in her tracks, and slowly turned around, giving him one of her patented `dangerous' looks. Now he understood her reputation. It was all he could do not to whimper and run.

"What did you just call me?"

"If we stay out in this any longer, we'll both die of pneumonia!" As her eyes flashed, he realised that appealing to her reasonable side was unlikely to achieve anything. "Get into the car, now."

She snorted, and raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you get off on ordering me about?"

"Don't make me force you, Cordelia." For a moment, he thought he saw fear in her eyes, but they quickly reverted to their former steeliness.

"Is this the side of you they call Ripper? Or have you just grown a spine? I'm nearly impressed.... But, let's face it, I think you've met your match. No-one tells Cordelia Chase what to do." Giles would have found the situation hilarious if he hadn't been so angry. There she was, a small figure in a cheerleader's outfit, soaked to the skin, instilling a kind of terror in a grown man.

Striding closer to her, he spoke very quietly. "Don't make me do something I'll regret," he said, suddenly aware of their proximity. Of her glistening skin, of the soaked pretence of clothing draped about her figure, of the heat radiating from her...

"Like what?" she whispered, filled with the sudden urge to touch the transparent white shirt covering his torso.

Before either was truly aware of what was happening, Giles closed the gap between them, and their bodies were pressed together. With a gasp, Cordelia looked up at him, her eyes clouded with a sudden lust to equal his as he felt her hard nipples through his wet shirt. Grinding closer, she moaned as she felt his erection press against her stomach. He could feel her hot breath on his lips. "Cordelia, I... this..." he murmured as she wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling them closer still. "The storm has... properties... I... oh, lord," her warm hand, having been content with trailing up and down his back, scratching lightly, somehow managed to find its way to his crotch, and stroked gently.

"Want to do something we'll regret later?" she asked, her mouth so close to his he could almost feel the air vibrating.

"I don't want to... to take advantage of you... Besides, it's the effect of the storm... and..."

"No-one tells Cordelia Chase what to do... remember? Even so, it's not like we have any control over this, if it is a spell... Now, just shut up, and kiss me." He took very little convincing, and closed the gap between their mouths, kissing her hard. She wrapped both arms around his neck, and her legs around his back, surrounding him completely. Somehow mustering up some strength, he staggered back to the car, and sat her on the hood. She loosened her grip on his neck, and began to pull at his tie. Having managed to keep her hands steady enough to unpick the knot, she ripped at the buttons of his shirt.The wet fabric peeled off easily, and she ran her fingertips lightly down his body, stopping when they came to his belt. She suddenly broke off the kiss.

"What if someone drives past?" she asked, in a moment of slightly heightened clarity. He smirked.

"Look around you," he said. Gazing past him, she saw through the rain that they'd inadvertantly left the main road, and had stopped quite literally in the middle of nowhere. Thinking back, they hadn't seen a single car in half an hour. Grinning, she looked back up at him, and their mouths met again, violently and hungrily. A few minutes ago, all she could concentrate on was the cold. Now, she could only feel heat as he cupped her breasts through the sodden material of her crop top.

She focused all her attention on undoing the buckle of his belt - a task made all the more difficult by the slipping of the metal under her hands. In frustration, she broke the kiss again, and managed to unbuckle and unzip his pants, slipping her hand into his boxers. Capturing her lips again, he groaned, and pushed her down onto the warm metal of the car. She yelped as the rough metal scratched at her back, exposed by the short top. Looking at him, she giggled as he removed his shirt entirely, and, fumbling a little, managed to lay it flat behind her.

He pushed her body down with his own, and, serious again, she wriggled out of her panties. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she ground her hips into his as he positioned himself at her entrance. As he finally entered her, they both moaned, and, when he didn't move, Cordelia rocked her hips towards him, kissing him briefly before latching onto his ear lobe. He thrust into her, starting a slow, lazy rhythm, and she twisted the hair at the back of his neck. All she could hear was the rain beating at the bodywork of the car, the roar of the storm, their laboured breathing, and their wet bodies slipping together. Intense pleasure started to build up inside her, increasing with every movement, until finally she came with a shriek. Giles moaned her name as he climaxed, and collapsed onto her body, kissing her, feeling the rain hit his back, and her hand trailing aimlessly up and down. Neither wanted to break the spell, and so they lay, rain falling, fingers of one hand entwined, chests heaving as they inhaled harshly and rapidly.

After a few minutes, she moved underneath him, and, snapping back to reality, realised how cold she was. She began to shiver, without any kind of control over her muscles. He stood up, fastened his zipper, then pulled her up and held her to him. "You're freezing," he whispered, and led her to the car door. Bending down, she picked up her panties from where she'd allowed them to fall on the ground.

"I... don't think I want to put those on," she said, clutching the drenched scrap of material. Giles opened the car door for her, and, having shut it again, grabbed his shirt and tie, shuddering as the wet material hit his skin. He ran to the driver's side, jumping in, and made an attempt at re-tying his tie. He turned the keys in the ignition, and, to his astonishment, the car started with no difficulty whatsoever. He looked over at Cordelia, wondering whether to comment, but decided against it. She had wrapped herself in the blanket again, and was looking a little flushed. He had no idea what to say to her.

Getting his bearings, he realised they weren't as far out of Sunnydale as he had thought. They drove for half an hour in awkward silence, before he finally stopped at the front door of her house.

"Cordelia, I-"

"Giles, I-"

They finally made eye contact, then swiftly looked away again.

"You first," she said.

"Cordelia, we- I- what we just did..."

"Giles, I'm a grown woman, you didn't take advantage of my in any way, and I definitely wanted to be there. Capiche?" He looked down, smiled a little, then looked back up and directly at her.

"What we just did..." he reiterated, "I wasn't exactly prepared for, and I was just going to ask..."

"Oh," she breathed, her blush deepening. "Oh, it was totally safe. I'm - yeah. Did you really think I'd be that stupid?"

"Right. Good."

"I... thanks for the lift," she said quickly. She jumped out of the car. "Look at that, it's stopped raining." Giles looked out. Indeed it had. The sky was blue, and the sun was shining. The only evidence of the storm was the slick sidewalk, the flooded road - and their wet clothing. "Uh... bye," she said, then made a dash for her house.

Giles sat for a moment in the car, attempting to work through the mess of his thoughts and feelings. Occupying himself with buttoning his shirt properly, he tried to fight the compulsion to follow her. He couldn't blame this urge on the rain, no matter what Wesley said about its properties. This was something stronger, something demanding that he follow her inside, and.... He couldn't allow a repeat performance. For her own good. And his. There's only so much a man can take.

Squeezing the water from his tie, he took one last look at her house, at the lack of parents' cars in the driveway, then resolutely turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. He tried again, and was greeted only by a derisive growl, before everything was silent. Trying to quell the rage building up inside him, and failing miserably, he turned the key violently, which resulted with him holding only half of it in his hand. "You... piece of... bloody hell!" He ferociously hurled open the door, slammed it, and kicked it. In response, it promptly fell off its hinges.

~

Cordelia opened the door, stumbled through, then collapsed against it as it closed. She had no idea how to feel about what had just happened. In fact, the only feeling she was aware of was a pleasant ache all over her body. She had no idea what had possessed her... but she knew that she wanted it to happen again. Many times. Her parents were away on business, and all she'd have to do would be to walk back through the door, and...

Not a good plan.

She had just managed to regain the feeling in her legs, and was on her way to the shower, when there was a knock at the door. Frowning, she turned around. She opened it, and found Giles standing there, looking bedraggled, tense and nervous.

"Uh, hello... my car's broken down, could I possibly use your telephone?"

With a grin, Cordelia grabbed him by the tie, and dragged him towards her, kissing him soundly.

She had always had impulse control problems.

Evidently, so had he.

FIN