Like Father... by Lara
Spoilers:
RoF
Time Period: After
Habeas Corpses
Note
1: For this fic, everything is "as is". No future season speculation,
no talk of spoilers. Cordelia slept with Connor and that is that.
Note 2: Trying to
write in the first-person after a long stretch. Please be kind.
Distribution:
Anywhere. Just tell me where.
Summary: Cordelia
muses about the two men in her life.
Can't
Think
Straight.
I don't even know
what stopped me from grabbing my things and running
back to Sunnydale.
What stopped me from running to Buffy or Xander's house and begging for sanctuary. Honestly, what could I have
said? "Angel
broke my heart!" "How, Cordelia?" "He kicked me out of
his life after I
slept with his miracle son!"
Yeah, that would get
me sympathy with open arms.
So I stayed.
I still can't
believe Angel let Connor and I back to the hotel. I
mean, I thought the
"Get the hell out" was suffice enough for us to stay
the hell out. I thought he had kicked us out for good. He had finally become the Alpha-Male. God, Gunn's rubbed off on
me...
But he wasn't the
Alpha-Male. Stormed into Connor's crappy loft with
the brood and the
scowl and the "Let's go". Walked out with his billowy
coat before either of us could get a word in.
Yes, sir! We will
obey, sir! No questions asked, sir!
Bastard.
He didn't say
anything for the whole car ride. We both sat in the
back, just looking
at the back of his head. Connor had that look on his face. That "I don't like this" look. I knew he
was thinking Angel was
going to drive to an alley and kill us. I think that's when I
finally realized how
much like his father he was. Same look. Same furrowed brow. Same slightly puckered mouth. Same slightly
alarmed
glint. Identical
look.
It made me sick.
He didn't speak as
we walked into the hotel. Walked right past us
into the office.
Left us with Mr. I-Can't-Mind-My-Own-Business-Since- My-Bar-Exploded and Brooding Man: British Son of Original
Brooding Man!
But that didn't
upset me as much as the fact that Angel didn't say a
goddamn word.
Didn't even say a
thing when Connor decided to move his things into
my room. Share my
bed. Just stared then walked away. Not only is he arrogant, he's a jackass as well.
So Connor and I
share a bed. No touching. No thank you. Please...I
learned the first
time. The first and the last time.
He still stares at
me like I'm some goddess or something. The letting
down gently didn't
work. Neither did the straightforward dumping. He's a stubborn guy.
Like his father.
But he's a good boy.
He keeps his hands to himself. Stays on his side
of the bed. Finally,
a man who realizes no means NO. I sometimes wake up
to find him all on my side or with his arm around me. I like those times. Makes me feel protected. He gets so fidgety when I
leave the bed.
Like something is going to happen to me in the five minutes I go
to get a glass of
water.
Connor is a true
protector. It's kinda hard to believe he's also the
Destroyer.
I don't get it. The
kid is supposed to be some warrior. Some brutal
killer. But he's the
gentlest, kindest, most caring person I have ever met. He treats me like a lady. And an equal.
Unlike some people.
Connor is a class
act. Aside from the homicidal instances and the
whole throwing Angel
into the ocean act. But that doesn't matter now. It's in the past. Now, he's a good boy who just wants to keep
me
safe.
I
Can't
Think
Straight.
They make me crazy.
Father and son make
me crazy.
They act like...men
when they're together. Macho. All fists and violence
and badass looks and all that other stupid stuff. They think no one sees the hugs. The practices that turn into those
playful
fights that Angel
and I used to have. The proud smiles. They act like
nothing has
happened.
He still gives me
glares and looks. His son still gives me the puppy
dog look.
Both make me sick.
Connor seems to be
enjoying the sudden bonding he's been having with
Angel. He's happier.
More...hyper. He finally has a real father. Someone who will discipline and praise him all in the same
breath. He likes
to tell me of all the things he did with his dad during the
day. Show me all the
new moves. Teach me all the names of the weapons. And I listen eagerly. Because it's what I do. I
listen.
What I don't get is
the way Angel treats me. Yeah, okay, boo hoo. He
saw Connor and me
making time under the sheets. Hey, it's not like I was WITH him when I was sleeping with his son! Besides, there
was no meaning
to it. It meant nothing. Just a distraction.
Connor was
convenient.
He acts like I
cheated on him. I didn't. He acts like I betrayed him.
I didn't. I don't
think I did. But it doesn't matter. It's over. It happened. What the hell did he expect? An apology? Yeah,
because that would've
made it all better. But hey, let's forget that time not so
long ago when I told
the big lug that I loved him. What did I get?
Nothing.
A cold Nothing.
Yet he acts like he
has the right to glare at me and mutter insults
under his breath
because his little, loyal Seer didn't join the nunnery until he was ready to admit the feelings were mutual.
He acts like
I was totally at fault. I made Connor get on top of me and do
the hip thing. But
why am I even surprised? It's Connor. His son. Heaven forbid Connor was in any way involved that night! He
wouldn't! Not
without the manipulative bitch coercing him!
I feel like taking
my nails and scratching Angel's pale ass face.
Feeling his blood on
my fingers. Watching his eyes close in pain. Make him feel what I am feeling right now.
But I won't. I'll
just let him talk to me like a child. Look at me
like a bug. He can
be as self-righteous as he wants.
Screw him.
I am my own woman. I
can do whatever the hell I want. I can do whomever
the hell I want. Because I want to. I am independent.
Like Frida Kahlo.
He doesn't know I'm
that deep. How could he? His self-absorbed ass
only cares about
what I have to say when it's about him. I could tell him my life story, complete with the revelation that I have
three
heads, but if he
doesn't hear his name somewhere in there, it will
pass through. I
learned that a long time ago. So I continue to be Advice Girl. I listen to him. It gets kind of...lonely.
Sometimes. But
it's what I do. I listen.
The way he talks to
me- I think he doubts my intelligence sometimes.
Like the diploma and
the academic awards mean nothing.
How dare you doubt
the queen, sir?! Off with your head! Among other
things...like those
lips. Loose lips.
That shouldn't make
me laugh. But it does.
It kinda makes me
sad that I feel this way. I love Angel so much. But
I don't like him.
Not anymore. I don't like what he's become. Angry. Bitter. Spiteful. He's become everything I despised. A
quitter. A whiner.
An angry, lonely man.
Say you love me,
Angel.
Please.
Just say it.
I
Love
You
Cordy.
It's so easy, Angel.
Please. I want to hear it.
I need to hear it.
My feet feel like
bricks as I drag my sorry ass up those thousand
steps to my bedroom.
It's so dark. The floor. The hallway. The room. Every time I walk in, a hundred shadows lurk around. Such a
cheap,
dim light. Wonder
why he didn't replace the light for me. He knows I
like bright lights.
Maybe he forgot.
Maybe he didn't.
I hate myself for
what I did. For being stupid. Why didn't I just
stay in the hotel?
Why did I have to move back with Connor? Why didn't we go to Angel after we saw that thing? When did I
turn into Martyr
Cordelia? When did my body become the last thing I had to
offer to anyone?
When did I lose my mind?
My body feels heavy.
So do my eyes. My heart does too. My soul. I
can't hold up
anymore. I don't think I can. I feel like I can't breathe. My legs feel weak. Not a good weak. Not the weak
like when you're
falling in love or when you just had a very good night with
that special guy.
Weak like I'm
falling.
Hands.
Someone's hands are
on me. Strong. Pulling me up. Straightening me.
Too tight grip on my
upper arms. Ow.
Lips on my neck.
Cold lips. But nice. Warm. How dumb does that sound?
It's dark.
He's still kissing
my neck.
Does he forgive me?
That's what this means, right?
He's slowly leading
me to my bed. This is really happening. He's forgiven
me.
I let him take me,
his hands untying my shirt and discarding it. He
moves to my pants,
trying to unfasten them from behind. His hands fumble slightly, but it's okay.
I'm nervous too.
I try to take off
his shirt from my position until I fall on the bed.
I crawl to the
middle, turning onto my back. I let him kiss me all over. Feeling me. Touching me. I let my eyes close. It's
almost
heavenly.
I can feel him
taking off his clothes in the dark. Mine too. On top
of me now. And
finally, he does what I've wanted him to do for, like, ever.
He fills me.
I clutch the sheets.
I'm afraid to touch him. It'll be over if I do.
I just let him move,
and I move with him. Let the pleasure take over. Genuine pleasure. He keeps kissing my neck, my collarbone. My
shoulders. And he
keeps moving firmly.
Faster.
Say you love me.
"I love
you."
Oh, God. Thank
you...
I can't breathe.
He's on top of me and I move, just to feel him more.
One hand holds my
wrist tightly. It almost hurts. I don't care. It just feels good. It feels good to have him love me without
any
thoughts of what
happened. It feels good for him to just love me.
I open my eyes to
stare into those beautiful brown eyes.
Blue.
Not brown.
Blue.
I can't breathe.
He still continues
to move, even though I've stopped. He's so gentle.
He keeps looking at
me with that look. That stupid, in love look. That goddamn puppy dog look.
I feel sick.
God- I want him to
be Angel. I want him to be my best friend. I want
him to be my
warrior. I want him to be
Angel
My
I
Don't
Shit
No
What
IswrongwithmewhydoIkeepdoingthishe'llhearushe'llhearhimohGodohGodthisc
an'tbehappeningIhatehimIhatemyselfIwanttodie
I want him to be
Connor! I want him to be Angel's son! I want him to
be my protector and
my friend and my FRIEND! I want him to be Connor!
I
Can't
Breathe
I
Can't
Think
Straight.
I close my eyes
slowly. There's nothing I can do. I start to move my
hips again. Hear his
breathing quicken. Feel him inside me.
I want him to be
Angel. My friend. My man. My lover.
I want him to be
Connor. My friend. My protector. My Connor.
For now, he can be
both.
FIN
Contact Lara