Like Father... by Lara
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.
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!
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.
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?
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.
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.
Just say it.
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.
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?
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.
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.
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
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 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.