CAMREN ONE-SHOTS

Lucky For You (That's What I Like)

Even after all these months together, a single glance at Lauren is enough to leave her borderline unfunctional.

Lauren chuckles lightly, reaching out for Camila's hand. Camila slips their fingers together easily and lets herself be pulled easily towards the exit, warm and full and happy. And...slightly confused.

"Lauren," she ventures as they exit the dining room and approach the ornate front door of the restaurant, "Don't we have to...you know. Pay?"

Lauren just shrugs, and keeps walking. The doormen nod at her as they exit onto the street, Lauren's town car already waiting on the curb. Camila gapes as the restaurant doors close behind them.

"Oh my god – Lo, did we just dine and dash?"

Lauren looks at her incredulously, eyebrows raised. "What? No! They have my card on file, Camz."

"But – how expensive was that?" Camila asks, still floored at the act of eating and then just getting up and walking away. At a restaurant where the silverware is probably worth as much as Camila's apartment.

Lauren chuckles, as if the question is somewhat ridiculous. She slides onto the seat with practiced ease, but Camila remains on the curb outside.

"I don't know, I didn't see the bill."

Camila makes a strangled noise, still stuck somewhere in the realm of 'they have my card on file'.

"You didn't look at -?!"

Lauren laughs, and pulls a still shell-shocked Camila into the car. "Camz, it's not a big deal. I like to treat you to nice things."

She shrugs out of her fur jacket as she says it, and the diamonds at her ears glitter in the light. Her nails are short and blunt but shiny, filed, manicured, perfect. Camila has the stark realization that her crimson lipstick probably costs more than Camila's entire outfit. And somehow, rather than being unappealing, the blasé way that Lauren wears her money is...strangely...attractive. She isn't showy, the things she wears aren't blatant in their opulence, but all in all she's wearing what probably amounts to several grand on her body. And it's just an ordinary day for her.

Camila shakes herself out of the thought roughly. Lauren's hand alights on her knee for the drive home, tracing little circles over the fabric of her pants, and when they get back to her penthouse Camila makes up for the expensive dinner by burning all those calories bending Lauren over and showing her exactly how grateful she is.

For a while, she manages to put it behind her. Lauren still buys her things, of course, but nothing quite as expensive as the dinner, and Camila can pretend that it was just a one-off. She can tell herself that it was simply a single night where she was particularly tense (read: horny), and that it wasn't Lauren's wealth that set her off at all.

But then, of course, there's a gala.

This one is going to be particularly grandiose, thrown not by Jauregui Corp but by a wealthy business associate of Lauren's, and even Camila admits that none of her outfits are quite up to snuff. She resists at first, but it's obvious that the dress code is obscenely out of Camila's price range, and Lauren makes it clear that:

1. She is helping to choose what Camila wears, and
2. She is absolutely paying for it.

The place that Lauren takes her to get fitted doesn't even seem like a shop. It's tucked away in the financial district, and there's no sign out front – just a buzzer on a shiny door. Lauren buzzes them in, and suddenly Camila is in another world.

The interior of the building is plush and Victorian-looking, and they're greeted by a well-dressed man and woman who usher Camila into a mirrored room. Lauren perches in a nearby armchair, watching aptly, and with surprising efficiency Camila gets fitted for a Dolce & Gabbana pantsuit, worrying about the price the whole way.