Second Date by Psychofilly
Summary: This is the second of some short fics based on the premise that Buffy and Angel try and keep a connection after Angel comes to LA, but the purpose of the stories as they are written is to illustrate the change in *Angel* and the C/A dynamic over a period of time.
Spoilers: Post-Hero, Season One.
Notes: I still plan on four stories, but I don't know when I'll be writing them.
Buffy
liked a certain degree of simplicity. She didn't like too many surprises. Surprises
meant demons jumping from dark corners intent on killing you for food
or sport. Surprises meant waking up one day to find that daddy had a
new girlfriend or your boyfriend turned into a homicidal creep after
you slept with him for the first time. Surprises were psychotic slayers waking up from
perfectly good comas to sleep with your current boyfriend and then run
to play victim with your ex, making as big a mess as possible before
turning themselves in to the police. In Buffy's experience, most
times surprises equaled bad.
She took a deep breath and got out of the cab, shaking
off the doubt and guilt that had plagued her all the way from
her father's house. She hated lying to Riley --though she hadn't
lied. More like she'd omitted a few facts. She had come to LA to visit
her father...to try and explain why she was also paying her
ex-boyfriend a visit was beyond even her highly developed skills of
rationalization. Especially since Angel would always be more than
just an ex.
Angel had surprised
her last month when she'd descended on LA and his home full of rage and
a need to even the score with Faith. At the time she had been
angry and hurt that Angel had chosen a side that wasn't hers. Faith had
proven her wrong by doing the right thing as Angel had believed she
would. Truth be told, she had acted like a complete and utter
bitch. He'd floored her when he'd showed up in Sunnydale the next
evening to apologize--even though he'd been in the right. She owed it to
him to keep their "date" even though the last one had ended with
Angel's face between her legs, and her head spinning in confusion.
Despite her unease over her weakness when it came to
Angel, his heartbreaking confession of how hard it was to
love her while she moved on put an ocean of distance between herself
and the desire to get physical with him again. Riley didn't come
with so many confusing complications. Besides, at this point in her
relationship with him, there would be no way to justify intimacy with
Angel as anything other than cheating....
She sighed softly to herself, the sense memory of warm
golden skin sliding against hers brought an easy smile to her
lips and a warm tingle to the base of her spine. Finding Riley
had been one of the few nice surprises she could remember, like a new
puppy or coming home to find that your mother hadn't forgotten
your birthday after all.
She entered the outer
doors to the office building, pausing on the short landing that
passed as the building's lobby. She wanted to give herself a moment to
get in complete command of her reactions. Her
"friendship" with Angel was fragile enough that she didn't want to confuse him with
mixed signals of nervousness and arousal. [i]And wasn't it nice not to
have to think anymore about the smells she gave off all the time.[/i]
Once the flush had
cooled, she headed down the short steps towards Angel's office. She
rolled her eyes at the unmistakable sounds of Cordelia Chase's voice
as it drifted out into the hall. She hadn't been here last time
Buffy had, which had been a relief. She hadn't relished the thought
of hearing Cordelia's cutting commentary of the humiliation she had
suffered at Faith's hands.
Of course it had
turned out that Cordy had her own run-in with Faith. Though capable of
being brave, Cordelia had always been the type of person who thought of
the safety of her own ass first. She had cleared out before she
could suffer more than what Angel had described as a truly
horrendous shiner.
"Stupid TV
director...He said I didn't look *scared* enough in my screen-test...Can you
believe it?" As Buffy neared the door she could hear the soft click of
Cordy's heels as she paced the worn linoleum. "Is it *my* fault that their
stupid monster wasn't fright- worthy??"
"I suppose
not." Angel's masculine voice ventured.
"Pfft...NO!"
There was a slight pause. "For which I blame the demon population of LA, our
very own now thankfully imprisoned slayer...oh yeah, and you! How can
some guy in gory chicken-suit be scary when I've seen the real
monsters that run around in the city?"
"Faith isn't a
monster, Cordelia, and why am I on your list?" he replied in a hurt
sounding voice. Buffy slipped noiselessly through the door, noting how
homey and lived in the outer office had become. She could see Cordelia
clearly as she paced in front of Angel's desk, her thick strait hair
falling over her bare shoulders. Through the blinds she could just
make out Angel behind the desk, chair half turned, feet propped
up and a book in his lap, which he was trying rather unsuccessfully
to read. Cordy had stopped and was giving him a long speculative look,
her hands planted on her hips.
"Uh, uh...don't
even try it. Faith may not wear a monster face, but she's plenty scary. As
for you, hello? I'm not going to forget you going all
Angelus-for-a-day anytime soon." She pointed an accusing finger in his
direction. "It's just a good thing you severely underestimated the
size of Wes's huevos...not to mention my stellar, albeit raw, acting
talent." She grinned, and rested her hand over her heart as she extolled
her own talent. Her smile turned to a frown when she noticed a
chip on her nail.
Angel shifted, his
feet dropping from their perch with a thud. "That wasn't my fault. I was
drugged." He looked up, dark eyes searching, nostrils flaring
slightly. He glanced at Cordy distractedly. "It's not like it can happen
again..." His search ended as Buffy approached the doorway to his
inner office.
"Buffy!"
Angel hopped up and
hurried to where she stood, a genuine smile breaking across his
features. Buffy returned it with one of her own. "I'm not
interrupting anything am I?" she asked with a nervous chuckle. Angel looked
good. He was actually wearing blue, and though he was visibly nervous
there was an ease which he carried himself that was new. He had
established this city as his domain, and for the first time, Buffy felt
like the outsider.
"No," Angel
reassured. "Cordy was just telling me about her audition this afternoon."
He gestured to the brunette behind him, who was staring at Buffy, her
face unreadable. Buffy realized that Cordy was waiting for her to set
the tone, and knowing that she didn't want to get within thirty feet
of Cordy's defenses she went for neutral.
She nodded and dredged
up a small smile as she gestured to the outer office. "I kinda
heard. So, the big scary wasn't that scary huh?"
Cordelia's face twisted into an expression that told of
her complete and utter contempt for know-it-all directors and
latex-inspired big uglies. Something inside Buffy unclenched;
apparently she had been classified as a non-threat this visit.
"It was all I
could do not to laugh...." Cordy continued as if Buffy had been a part of the
conversation all along. Angel seemed to relax, tension easing out of
his shoulders. Angel's eyes met hers then drifted to Cordelia.
His expression was a mixture of amusement and relief. The only one
who seemed unaware of the sudden release of nervous tension was
the woman currently talking....
"You know what
the worst thing was?" Cordy's eyes narrowed, flashing dark amber in
indignation."That skinny little freak of a Spielberg wannabe had the nerve
to tell me I stunk!" She threw out her hands in a gesture that asked
them to consider who the slight was directed towards and judge
accordingly. "I mean really...stunk!"
Buffy looked to Angel
to field this one but his expression had suddenly gone blank.
"I do not
stink!" Her eyes begged the question of her friend. "Do I?" Angel's poker face was
good, but Buffy knew him well enough to notice the beginnings of
panic. He swallowed, his face going a whiter shade of pale. "Smell
me!" She held her wrist under the vampire's nose.
Angel leaned forward
and took a cautious whiff. Cordy executed a little hop in triumph,
her hands pointing excitedly at his nose. "See! It's
not b.o.! Can I help it if I got some Di'kini musk on me when you killed
it the other day?" She rubbed her hands on her jeans. "I took
like, four showers...I thought I got it off, but I got nervous...."
"I can't smell
anything." Buffy offered.
"You should have
used mustard...." Angel began helpfully. Buffy had a sneaking suspicion
that he'd dodged a thorny subject between them and was vastly relieved.
"Besides being yellow and spicy it takes out the smell of Di'kini
musk."
Cordy shot him a look
that probably sent half the male population of LA running in fear of
their manhoods. "And *why* didn't you tell me this before I walked
around all day smelling like the love child of a wet goat and a demonic
sewer slug?" She poked him once in the chest...hard.
"Don't think you won't pay for that later."
"I didn't think
you smelled that bad." He began but she waved him off.
"You didn't
think? Gee, that's a shocker." She turned to Buffy, ignoring Angel.
"Good to see you Buffy, you two have fun. I'll wait for Wes and we'll lock
up."
"You sure?"
Angel asked, still rubbing the spot where Cordy had jabbed him.
Cordy rolled her eyes
in exasperation, "Go already."
Buffy smiled, relieved
that they seemed to be leaving. "It was good to see you, and tell
Wesley I said hello." She could do nice. Willow would be proud.
"Will do."
Cordy was already halfway to her desk. "You think Wes would be up for
something more exciting than word puzzle? I was thinking of asking him
if he wanted to get some dinner." She opened a desk drawer and pulled
out a nail-file and some polish.
Angel picked up his
coat and shrugged it on. "You know Wes, the only thing he likes more
than food is..."
"Those musty
books he always has his nose in." She turned and gave him a wide smile that
Buffy had never seen before, full of good humor and affection.
"Are you still here?" She dramatically waved him off. "Shoo...I
have a date with a mustard bottle to contemplate."
Angel grinned back,
his eyes crinkling. Buffy couldn't help the brief flash of jealousy at
their easy friendship...not when she had a night of awkwardness and
frustrated desires to look forward to. If only they could learn to be
so easy with each other. If only they had had that before...maybe
seeing each other now wouldn't be so damn hard.
Cordy pulled her chair
out. She looked up, eyebrow raising. Buffy was still watching her
instead of heading out the door. "What?" Cordy stiffened. "Oh
no...NO!"
Angel dove past Buffy
so fast she didn't even see him move. Suddenly he was just there, in
front of Cordelia. He eased her convulsing body into a chair, kneeling
between her legs as he held her head firmly between his palms.
Buffy went into full wiggins mode as Angel patiently called out,
"Cordy, Cordy!"
"What the hell is
going on?" Buffy demanded, not liking the ozone sharp smell that hung
in the air, or the way Angel leaned over Cordelia, using his
bulk to keep her from thrashing right out of the chair. "Is she
having a seizure? What do...do I need to call 911?"
"No!" Angel
gasped as Cordy kicked him in the shin. "Ow, dammit!" His jaw clenched, the pain
registering in the roughness of his voice. "She's
having a vision."
Buffy circled around
beside him. " Are you *sure* it's not a seizure?" she
asked him incredulously.
"He's sure!"
Wesley barked from the doorway, causing Buffy to jump. His sharp blue eyes
took quick measure of the action. He rushed towards the desk,
grabbing a pen and paper. "Their friend, Doyle passed them on to her.
Sort of a parting gift...She's Angel's seer now."
Buffy turned back to
the scene in front of her. "If that was *my* gift, I'd exchange
it." She murmured, knowing all to well the burden of supernatural
"gifts." Angel still held fast to Cordelia. His face - -no, his entire
being-- focused on Cordy. The beginnings of unease knotted in Buffy's
gut. Angel was watching Cordelia with a mixture of horror, guilt,
curiosity and...compassion.
Slowly Cordy's body
stilled and her eyelids stopped twitching. The veins on her forehead
throbbed and jumped just under the skin as the storm of images still
raged inside her head. Her hands were fisted in Angel's grey-blue
shirt. Neither of them seemed to notice. Angel brushed her long hair
out of her face and then grabbed a Kleenex off the table and dabbed
at the drool on her chin as she opened her eyes.
Wes rushed to the
water-cooler, returning with a cup and some pills. Angel smiled
reassuringly as she popped the pills and took a drink. Cordelia leaned her
head back and massaged her temples. Buffy wanted to help but the
business of taking care of Cordy seemed to be well in hand. She was
beginning to feel like a third wheel until Cordy's eyes met hers.
"I guess the
Powers heard you were coming to town." She winced and Angel helped her lean
forward as she reached for her water. The two men fussed over their
charge like mother hens until she shooed them away. Angel hovered
nearby, a protective hand sneaking on to the arm of her chair until she
smacked it off. "I hate to be the one to ruin whatever fabulous
*thing* you two have planned but it looks like you have a case." She
cleared her throat, taking a couple of sips of water.
Angel strode to the
small weapons chest that he kept upstairs and opened it.
"What did you
see?" Wesley asked holding his pen at the ready.
Buffy could sense
Angel's impatience to get going but he seemed to be content for the moment
to let Wes press Cordy for information. Finally the other
woman's words sunk in. "Wait, a case? Now?" She met Angel's eyes.
Angel opened his mouth
but Cordy spoke. "Brownies, Wes. I saw Brownies." she
croaked, rubbing her eyelids her attention shifting to Buffy. "The
karmic joke that is the Power's timing is not lost on me but yes, you have a
case."
"A demon is
attacking a bake sale?" Wes nibbled on the tip of his pen. "Is the
demon attracted to the baked goods or do pastries piss him off?"
"Not those kinds
of Brownies Wes...you know" Her hands circled the air as she searched
for the word.
"Girls
Scouts," Buffy interjected, getting it.
"Oh, well that
*does* make a rather huge difference doesn't it?" Wesley mused.
Angel paced.
"What kind of weaponry should I be considering here?"
"Your sword, an
axe...an Uzi if you have one." He raised a brow and began to rummage
through the chest. He held out a good sized axe to the slayer. Buffy
shook her head.
"Take it."
Cordy insisted.
Thrown by the flat
certainty in her voice, she did.
"Wesley, I want
you to stay with Cordy." Armed to his satisfaction Angel returned to
Cordelia.
"Are you
sure?" he asked wistfully. Off Angel's concerned look he dutifully nodded and
sat down in one of the office chairs with a disappointed sigh.
"Blast."
"Nice to know you
care, Wes." Cordelia huffed with as much sarcasm as she could muster.
His face flushed.
"I didn't mean...of course I'll stay."
Buffy crossed her
arms, then uncrossed them, shifting her weight. The prospect of a battle
was beginning to make it's presence known with the buzzing need to
*do* something that zinged along her nerves.
Angel squatted in
front of Cordelia, who was steadfastly refusing to look at any of them.
"Cordy?" He reached up and took hold of her chin, forcing her head
around so he could catch her eye. "What exactly did you
see?"
Buffy bit the inside
of her cheek to keep from saying anything. Cordy was stalling and Angel
was pawing all over her. Maybe pawing was an exaggeration but the
hair smoothing and the cheek cupping was knotting her muscles
in that place between her shoulders where she carried her tension.
"Little
girls." Cordy whispered. "At the park. Oh, God." She gulped, her hand flying up to
cover her mouth. "Ohgodohgodohgod." Angel's pale hands closed over
her tanned shoulders, keeping Cordy from squirming out of the
chair. "The demons are going to rape them." Her eyes snapped to his,
their golden brown deepening to a muddy green. Her face was a
heartbreaking mixture of desperation and determination.
"There is a pack of them, eight...maybe ten. You've got an hour, possibly
a little more before they get there."
"They
won't." Angel assured softly, but there was steel behind his words and a dangerous
glint in his eye. "I..."
"Don't
promise." Cordy interrupted, her voice barely audible. A hand gripped his forearm.
He reached over and covered it with his own. "Just go kill them. I don't want this
one stuck in my head." Angel nodded, his lips pressed in a thin grim
line. He stood. Buffy picked up her axe. Their eyes met. After three
years of fighting the good fight in Sunnydale, neither needed to say a
word. They were ready.
Two hours later
Two bruised and weary
warriors sat side by side on a park bench watching a group of
about fifteen young girls playing...completely oblivious to the epic
battle that had taken place just behind the line of trees where
the now-dead demons had lain in wait.
They had walked to the
nearby convenience store so that she could get something to drink.
Angel had surprised her by braving the washed-out glare of the
fluorescents and getting something as well. Now they sat in semi-comfortable
silence as they watched protectively over the fruits of their labor.
"Wow." Buffy
took a sip of her cherry Icee. "That was intense."
"Yep." Angel
agreed, his fingers picking at the paper wrapping of his straw.
"In a way it's
kind of nice." She squinted into the night, scanning the line of shadows at
the edge of the field. She tried to imagine the night the way
Angel must see it, and found that she couldn't. She could sense his eyes
on her, waiting. "They have no idea what's really out
there." She turned and looked at him. "We got to preserve that...innocence."
Angel shrugged.
"At least as far as demons go," he replied. "Now they just have to avoid the
pitfalls of growing up. Human predators, drugs, sex, teenage
pregnancy...what?" He asked, obviously not sharing her optimism.
"Sure we saved them from being raped and possibly eaten, but
the world's still a scary place." He hesitated, eyes snapping in the
direction of a little girl's peal of laughter, "Even without the demons," he
finished softly.
"Way to bring
down the post-slayage high," she grumbled. An uneasy silence descended.
Buffy watched the children as they crawled all over the jungle-gym.
She heard Angel jab his straw into his drink. She turned and stared
as he drank the contents in one breathless draw. She wondered if
that's how he drained a victim, throat working without the need for
oxygen. "Angel?"
The dregs rattled at
the bottom of the cup as he swallowed his last, then pinched the
bridge of his nose. "Whoa...head rush." He blinked rapidly, pressing his
palm against his forehead. He laughed with almost child-like
wonder. "She was right...son of a bitch. Ow!" His laughter faded, but he
was still smiling a rueful little half smile.
Buffy scooted close,
brushing her fingers across his temple. "Did you hit your head during
the fight?"
He pressed both palms
against his forehead, then let them drop. Moonlight sparkled in
his eyes causing Buffy's breath to catch. Amused Angel was damn
sexy.
"Brain
freeze," he said as if *that* explained everything. "Ow."
"I'm still going
with the concussion theory. How did we go from your utterly depressing
world view to...brain freeze?"
"I've learned the
joys of non-linear thinking," he deadpanned, smiling again.
"The last time Cordy came with us to kill some vampires she talked
Wes into getting an Icee with her, only she got Coke not cherry.
Anyway she drank it too fast and got brain freeze and I asked her what
*that* was like...."
Buffy had to wonder if
maybe he really had hit his head during the fight. The sides of
her mouth twitched upwards.
His all seeing eyes
caught her expression. "Forget it," he sighed, his humor evaporating.
"It's stupid."
Buffy's lips drew
down. Angel stared out across the field, his expression distant.
She wasn't sure exactly how but she had hurt his feelings. She reached
out and touched his arm. His head whipped around and she jerked
away. "It's not stupid. Tell me."
"It's just one of
those things you take for granted when you are alive. Like
sneezing," he began.
"Sneezing is
overrated." Buffy observed dryly.
"Is it?" He
asked, his dark eyes serious. "Wes was laughing at Cordy and Cor was bitching
about her head, but she was laughing too and I just felt...."
"Left out?"
Buffy suggested, not liking the offhand way he'd shortened Cordy to Cor.
As if he hadn't even been conscious of it.
He frowned.
"No...curious. She tried to get me to buy one, told me that if I drank it
down fast enough I'd probably feel it since it didn't have anything
to do with the lack of circulation in my brain." He threw his cup into
a nearby waste basket.
"I didn't believe
her, plus she was just using it as an excuse to tease, but as it turns
out she was right." He turned, his arm stretched along the
back of the bench and he grinned. Buffy found his good humor infectious
and the atmosphere once more turned comfortable. "My first brain freeze in two
hundred and forty eight years," he mused.
"An important
milestone." Buffy said with mock seriousness.
"I told you it
was stupid."
"Life lessons
from Cordelia?" She teased. "I guess she *is* the guru of all things
inconsequential." Buffy forced down the flash of Cordy, her emotional control
short circuited by an event that thanks to Angel and herself,
never happened.
"Maybe,"
Angel hedged. "Funny thing is...no matter how insignificant the things she shows
me seem at the time, they have a strange way of becoming relevant
somewhere down the line."
Again, Buffy wasn't
liking the soft smile or introspective eyes. Much as it pained her to
admit it, she still viewed Angel as hers. As easy as it was in Sunnydale
to tell herself she had moved on with Riley, being with Angel
drained her of all sense of logic and resolve. She loved Riley in her
head, but in her heart she wanted to crawl on top of the vampire next to
her and make him forget the existence of any other women in his new
life.
Instead she asked,
with only the slightest trace of sarcasm, "So exactly what
insightful lesson is buried in the mysterious brain freeze?"
"That maybe I
don't know as much as I like to think that I do. That I still have a lot to
learn about myself."
Her fantasy Angel came
crashing down around her ears. She could feel her face scrunch into
a very Cordelia-like expression of confusion.
"Are you sure you
aren't reading too much into a drink?" Again Angel laughed, a deep
carefree, sound that warmed her to her toes. She'd never heard it before
tonight.
"Maybe I
am." He stood and held out his hand.
Buffy allowed him to
pull her up. For a brief moment they were toe to toe and Angel had a
dangerous gleam in his eye. She knew that look. He wanted to kiss
her.... She tilted her head upwards. For just the slightest moment she
allowed herself to think that one kiss wouldn't be such a big deal.
Time slowed. Angel swayed forward, his lips only a breath away. Her
traitorous thoughts flashed on Riley and she pulled back. "We
can't."
Angel's hands fisted
at his sides. He looked as frustrated as she felt. As much as she
didn't want to be, this time she knew she was right. She wanted to
be able to look Riley in the eyes when she returned home. She
wanted to enjoy her relationship with Riley without the same guilt
and trust issues that had slowly killed her relationship with
Angel. "I'm sorry."
"No,
I...shouldn't have." He backed up a step, his dark eyes refusing to meet hers.
"I'll drive you to your dad's." He turned on his heel and headed back
towards the parking lot. She had to hurry to catch up, almost running
into him when he stopped.
"Angel?"
He was frantically
digging through his coat pockets. "Dammit!" he cursed when he finally
fished his cell phone out only to have it stop vibrating. He flipped
the thing open and glowered at the keypad. "I missed the call."
Angel held the thing up, his eyes narrowing. Buffy had the distinct
impression that he and the phone were not on good terms.
Buffy gently took the
phone out of Angel's too-tight grasp, her eyes shining with
amusement. It took her about ten seconds to figure it out. "All you
have to do is press this button and it pulls up your call-log." Angel
crowded into her space, his gaze flicked between the tiny phone and her.
"Then you just hit menu then talk....See?" She handed it back and he
pressed it to his ear, smiling at her when someone picked up on
the receiving end.
"Wes? Yes."
His grin abruptly faded. "No, Buffy had to help...tell Cordy this thing is
possessed, and when did it start vibrating? I did that?" He
shifted, half turning away. Buffy walked a few paces, giving Angel the
illusion of privacy. "How's Cordelia. She is? Do you think I should? No, I
will. She just acts so guilty in the morning. Ok." He hung up.
"So?" Buffy
inquired. "Is everything all right?" She tried to sound nonchalant, but Angel
had to be able to hear the curiosity in her voice.
"Everything is
fine. Wes just asked if I would pick up some ice cream on the way home."
He resumed walking towards the car.
"Ice cream?"
Buffy couldn't help but chuckle.
"For Cordy."
He shrugged, slipping the phone back into his pocket. "This
vision seems to be worse than normal. Usually after they are taken care of
they fade but for some reason she's still feeling the
effects."
Buffy didn't
understand but the worried look on Angel's face spoke volumes. "What do
you mean, by 'feeling the effects?' Other than the irony of the..."
her mind dredged up an image of Harmony and the vapid utter waste of
an vampire that she had become, "Okay, second shallowest person in
Sunnydale being forced to see other people's pain, what's the
big?"
Angel stared at her
for a moment, his expression inscrutable. She wondered when she had
lost the ability to read him. She knew it pre- dated his move to LA.
She fought to keep the scowl off her face at the realization that
it went back as far as the first Faith debacle when Angel had gone
undercover as Angelus to lure information out of Faith. There had come
a point where she hadn't wanted to know, fearing that if she
looked deep within the man, she'd come face to face with his demon.
She and Angelus weren't exactly on speaking terms.
He took a deep breath,
his brow knitting as he struggled to explain. "You saw
what they do to her." She finally saw an emotion she could read: guilt.
"She doesn't just see other people's pain...she feels it.
But since it was Doyle that gave them to her she sees the visions as a
gift, one that took her a while to appreciate, but..." They
resumed their walk towards his car. "The visions are meant to be my guide.
Doyle was half demon and better able to withstand them, plus he had things in the past he
needed to atone for." He opened her door, standing well to
the side as she got in. "Cordelia doesn't."
A soft disbelieving
"pfft," escaped Buffy's lips before she could stop it. Cordy had
plenty to atone for. They just weren't the type of things someone like
Angel would ever be able to understand. Angel had never attended high
school. She felt real sympathy for Cordelia's pain, but she could
sense an old pattern emerging. "Or maybe she just has you and Wesley
wrapped."
"What do you
mean?" Angel hazarded a brief glance at her as he started the car and
eased into traffic.
"Oh, come on! Did
you ever stop to consider she might be playing you, getting you to wait on
her hand and foot and eating up all the attention? I mean, she
always wanted you to notice her...She's totally taking
advantage."
He frowned, his voice
registering mild irritation. "I don't mind."
Buffy's eyebrow's shot
up in surprise, "You don't mind being taken advantage of?"
"I don't mind
taking care of her," Angel amended matter of factly.
"Oh." Buffy
breathed, his admission catching her off guard. They rode in silence for a few
long moments as Buffy fought the irrational sense of betrayal that
threatened to claw its way to the surface. Angel divided his
attention between watching the road, and stealing wary glances at her.
Angel sighed heavily.
"It's not like that," he began. "Between us, I mean. Cordelia is a
beautiful girl, sure." Buffy glared daggers. He stumbled over his
words. " I, I mean you'd have to be...blind, not to notice but I don't
look at her that way."
"It's not you I'm
necessarily worried about," Buffy retorted sarcastically.
"She was always after you back in high school." Buffy smirked giving him an
appraising once over. "If I remember correctly she used to refer to
you as 'Salty Goodness' and she used to brag about how she was
going to steal you because when it came to dating *she* was the
slayer."
Angel kept his eyes
glued to the road ahead, refusing to look at her. His grip on the
steering-wheel had tightened to the point that his knuckles stood out
bone white in the moonlight. Buffy was getting under his skin, and
she couldn't deny a certain feeling of satisfaction in the fact. She'd rather have him
angry than looking at her like he was earlier when he'd almost kissed
her. This way she held a certain degree of control.
Angel was shaking his
head, his jaw working from side to side, his voice strained but
even. "Whatever she might have said or done in high school is really
none of my business. We're just friends...." His eyebrow rose and
his lips quirked slightly upwards. "In fact, Cordy is normally
anything but impressed with me."
Buffy snorted.
"And you know this how?"
Angel's tiny grin
broke into a full-fledged smile as his irritation dissipated.
"Besides the fact that she tends to say *exactly* what's on her mind?" His
eyes did a slow seductive sweep of her body, causing her nerve
endings to fire in warning. "I can smell when a woman is finding me
attractive."
"Right," she
croaked, her throat gone suddenly dry. "Handy sense." She crossed her legs,
deciding that now would be a good time to drop the subject. She
couldn't help her body's reaction to his presence and she hated that he
could pick up on its betrayal.
They rode in silence
the last couple of miles to her father's house. Angel pulled into a
spot about half a block away and cut the engine. For a moment silence
reigned. The only sound was the sound of the motor as it began to
cool down.
"Well,"
Buffy said, sliding around to face Angel, her arm draping casually over the back
of the seat. "Tonight was interesting."
"Buffy...."
Angel's tone had turned husky. His hand snaked out, fingers entangling
with hers. His touch was as electric as she remembered, the shock
of it jolting her from fingertips to toes. For a second all she could
do was stare numbly as Angel's thumb swept across her palm. His
grip tightened and he pulled her close, bridging the gap and meeting
her halfway across the bench seat.
"Angel, what
are...." Before she could say more he had pulled her face up and was
kissing her soundly. His lips were as skilled as ever and the cool sweep of
his tongue made her insides clench in remembered ecstasy. Instinctively, her body
melted into his, which he took as consent. His all-knowing fingers slid up
her thigh, over her hip and down under the waistband of her jeans.
The cool hand cupping her ass sent alarms screaming through her brain.
She wanted this...but
it was wrong.
She tore her mouth
away from his. Angel's free hand fisted in her hair, dragging her
back down. "Please..." his tone was desperate and ragged, "Let
me." His lips latched on to her neck. "I'll make it so good..." he
murmured between nips.
"No," she
gasped, pulling back. "Angel, stop."
A growl ripped through
his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her
close. "Please?" He pleaded once more.
Buffy pushed him away,
resorting to her slayer strength to break his hold. She scrabbled
out of his lap and over the side of the door, not bothering to open it
in her haste to get away.
Angel jumped out and
stalked after her. His hand closed around her arm and he jerked her
to a stop. "Don't run away from me!" he snapped.
Buffy's fist snapped
out without conscious thought. Her momentum to adding force to her
swing. The punch knocked Angel back a step or two. She stood
panting, aroused and angry. Angel held his nose and glared, his deep-set
eyes gone gold. Some internalized sense warned her that he was likely
to pounce. She held up her hand in warning as she backed up a step.
"You stay away!"
Angel ducked his head,
half turning away. After a moment he faced her, his expression
wary. His eyes had reverted to their normal brown and were glittering
with unshed tears.
"What the hell
were you thinking?" Buffy demanded.
"I don't
know!" Angel barked. "I just..."
"Just what?"
she shouted, disregarding the neighbors. "Did the curse disappear since the
last time I was here? Did I miss the memo?" Buffy lashed out, refusing
to feel guilty when Angel's features crumpled in defeat, but she did
soften her tone. "Angel, what happened at the end of our last date was a
fluke." She could practically see Angel trying to shut down on his
powerful emotions. She took a cautious step forward. "Neither
of us should have allowed it to happen. It's too risky for us, you
*know* that."
"I just wanted to
make you happy." He looked away refusing to let her see his pain. "I
didn't want you to forget."
She took another step
closer, reaching forward and tugging him close. Immediately he wrapped
himself around her and this time she didn't fight it. "I
could never forget you." She choked back her own tears. "But I
can't keep coming back if it's always going to end with us crossing the
line."
"You didn't mind
before," he muttered bitterly.
"I wasn't with
somebody else then. What kind of person would that make me if I went
along and let you do what you wanted?" She felt the rise and fall of
Angel's chest as he sighed and she squeezed him tight but there was no
comfort in it. "I hate it. I really do. But you know that for us
to be anything other than friends is too dangerous." She
tilted her head up to catch his expression. He looked angry and hurt. Her
heart broke in sympathy but for the first time since she arrived, she
felt a tiny fraction of peace.
She pulled herself out
of Angel's arms, standing on her toes to place a soft kiss on his
cheek. She could hear the hitch of breath as he tried not to break
down in front of her. "We did pretty good until the end.... I'll call
you in a couple of weeks, okay?"
Angel nodded,
obviously not trusting himself to speak.
"Goodbye,
Angel." She stood there for a moment, letting herself memorize every detail
of the man standing in front of her. She then turned and headed up
the short landing to her father's condo. As she turned the key in the
lock she heard Angel say, "I love you," so softly she almost
thought she imagined it. She knew she hadn't but she squeezed her eyes
shut and pretended she had. She fumbled the door open and stepped
inside, closing the door on the night.
*********************************************************
Angel knew Buffy had
heard him. He had seen her shoulders tense before closing the
door on him...on them. Now he stood on the stoop in front of her
father's house waging a private war with himself. He wanted to batter in
that door and hunt Buffy down. He just had two distinct rationales
for doing so. Half of him wanted to find her room, sweep her into
his arms and bind her to him through the pleasures of the
flesh. The other half wanted what it always had: the taste of Slayer's
blood on it's tongue as it ripped out her throat.
Instead of doing
either he turned his back on the door and walked stiffly back to his
car. He made it three blocks before he slammed on his breaks and hit the
Plymouth's dashboard. The old car absorbed the force of his blow, but
he just as quickly realized that it wasn't the car that he wanted to
hurt. He shifted into gear and went on the prowl.
Ten minutes later he
found what he was looking for. He eased the car off the road and
slipped into the dark alleyway between an old Laundromat and an
adult video store. Neon lights painted the mouth of the alley in a wash of
red. Beyond that was moonlight and shadow. The lone vampire feeding
on a diseased hooker never stood a chance.
Angel slipped from
shadow to shadow, letting the darkness envelop him like the embrace of an
old friend. Sharp eyes measured the situation and a sharper mind
decided on a course of attack. He wanted to pound something until it
bled and whimpered. He sprang into action, barreling into the
much smaller vampire. He didn't bother with a stake or a sword.
His first punch broke
the thing's nose, not too big of a deal for a vampire. His second
punch connected to its cheek and there was a satisfying crunch
under his knuckles as he felt the bones give way. He never even checked
to see if the hooker was all right. He just hit the vampire until his
own knuckles were split and bleeding and the screams and whimpers
that had been music to his ears faded to silence. He dropped
the vampire, nudging him with his boot. He scanned the alley,
noting that the hooker was gone.
Maybe this had been
her wake-up call? He doubted it. If anything she was probably looking
to score at this very moment. He considered the bloody heap-o-vampire
at his feet. He decided to leave him be. If the vampire couldn't get
up in a few hours, the sun would do his dirty work.
He checked his watch,
grimacing when he noticed his hand. He checked his clothes for blood.
Other than a few small spatters he was good, and he could blame the
split knuckles on the demons at the park. Ass suitably covered, he
headed to get Cordy her ice cream.
Angel stopped at his
second convenience store in one night. It was a record of sorts. He
loathed the store-fronts of cinderblock and shatter-resistant
glass that hogged seemingly every street-corner in the United States. The
run down store front of the little shop he stopped at was
anything but cheery. In fact, Cordy would probably be pissed if she knew he
had gotten her something here. She may have changed for the good,
but she was still a snob.
Angel noticed the
liquor store right next door when he had pulled in. He planned to get
drunk and pull an alcohol fueled fuzzy blanket over tonight's memories. He
bought two quarts of Irish whiskey and stashed them in his car before
running in to the dingy little store for ice- cream.
The evening's events
hit him like a fist to the gut while he was waiting in line to
pay. While Angel was grateful that he had a purpose and friends to
share it with, without love his entire existence rang hollow.
Angel didn't know what he had been thinking tonight, or what he
was going to do now, or worse yet, how he was going to fill the
eternal stretch of lonely nights before him.
He needed to know that
he wasn't fighting in vain. He needed to believe that he wasn't
just a cog in some cosmic machine. Was his destiny to be worked
until he was world-worn and broken, only to be cast aside when a
newer better model came along? He hated the certainty that his
days would bleed together one after another while the people he held
dear slipped like fine sand through his fingers.
Angel threw the money
down and stalked out of the store, not even bothering with his
change. Most of all, he hated the fact that his body still hummed with
borrowed life at the memory of Buffy's touch. His lips burned from
her kisses and his groin ached with unfulfilled need. Even if she had
let him do as he'd wanted, he would still have had to deny himself
the pleasure of release....
He fucking hated
Gypsies.
Angel hurried home. He
slipped quietly through the dark offices, opting to use the
stairs down to his apartment. As he rounded the corner, the site of
Wesley and Cordelia on the couch brought him up short. He stood for a
long moment, bags in hand, watching as his friends slept unaware.
Easy prey.
Cordelia was curled
into a tight little ball and tucked safely into the crook of Wesley's
arm. Wes slept with the TV remote in hand, glasses askew, a tiny
frown drawn across his brow. His temple rested on the crown of
Cordy's head. They were almost picture-perfect except, unguarded in
slumber, Cordy's expressive face betrayed her. There was a rumpled
and soggy Kleenex in her hand. Crying made her face softer,
rounder...the fullness giving her a childish beauty that was usually buried
under sharp features. Not that Cordelia Chase was ever anything less
than stunning, but seeing her with no makeup, face drawn with pain, made
her beauty more real somehow.
Angel took his
packages to the kitchen, putting up the groceries with as little noise as
possible. He poured a glass of blood, drinking it down in the kitchen as
was his habit. He rinsed his glass and headed towards his bedroom,
unbuttoning his shirt as he went. He stripped down to his
undershirt, threw his soiled garment in the hamper and kicked off his shoes.
Deciding he'd shower later he padded softly to the couch, gently
nudging Wes' arm in attempt to rouse him.
Wesley jerked away
from his touch, his glasses flying off his face as his head whipped
around.
Angel held up his
hands. "Whoa Wes, it's just me."
Cordy opened one eye
to glare at Angel. "Well, I *was* having sweet dreams," she
groused.
Angel tried to muster
a smile and found that he couldn't. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I got
kicked in the head. You?" She pushed herself up and away from Wes' protective
embrace. When he didn't answer her, she gave him a sharp eyed once
over. "Let me guess; you got your heart kicked around by everyone's
favorite slayer."
Angel silently met her
frank stare. Whatever she could read in his eyes seemed to be
answer enough. She scowled slightly but didn't press. Angel was
feeling the need to fix what promised to be the first of many drinks.
"I got you some ice-cream," he called over his shoulder as he
returned to the kitchen. "Would you like me to fix you some?" He glanced
back, catching the evil look Cordy was shooting Wesley.
"You called him
didn't you?" she accused.
Wesley gathered his
coat and a few books, setting them on the stairs. "I
thought you could use a little pick-me-up after tonight's vision." He
straightened, stretching the kinks out of his back. His features softened into
a look of brotherly affection. "From your description, it
sounded particularly distressing."
"So you think
fattening me up is going to help?" she retorted, as she drifted across the
living room to where Wes was standing. "I swear, between the two of
you, I'm going to end up the size of a barn." She turned to Angel,
"What kind did you get?" She waved him off before he could reply,
"Never-mind, just fix me a bowl."
Angel nodded and
reached for a mid-sized bowl, plucking it from its perch on the shelf.
The sound of a throat clearing stopped him mid- motion. He looked back
over his shoulder. Cordy made a circle with her thumbs and
forefingers....a wide circle. With a slight shrug, Angel set the bowl
down and picked up a much bigger one. She gave him the thumbs up, her
attention shifting back to Wes.
"You were *so* my
word puzzle bitch, tonight." Cordelia teased as Wes slipped on his jacket.
Wes' shoulders sagged
in defeat. "I never would have imagined your vocabulary could
extend beyond money, fashion, jewelry, and the latest 'it' person in
Hollywood," he mused good-naturedly.
Cordelia rolled her
eyes. "Contrary to popular belief, cheerleaders can and do read. So,
you really gonna go?"
Wesley nodded. "I
have an early meeting tomorrow. I may have found a better
apartment."
Cordelia wrapped her
arms tightly around his shoulders. "G'luck," she mumbled, head tucked
into the crook of his neck. "And thanks for staying with me."
Wesley hugged her back
without any of the stiffness or hesitation that he usually showed
then dropped a light kiss on her temple. "Anytime."
Angel ambled up behind
them, ice cream in one hand, whiskey in the other. Wes' dark blue
eyes locked with his. A silent understanding flowed between them.
Wes gave the barest of nods, trusting that Angel would protect Cordelia
from the demons without, and the demons within.
Angel thought they
both trusted him a little too much.
Cordy let Wesley go.
As she turned her face lit up at the sight of the huge bowl of ice
cream. "Gimme," she snatched both the bowl and the whiskey out of his
hands.
"Cor...." he
tried to warn, but she took a big swallow before he could stop her.
She made a face and
coughed, almost dropping her bowl. She set the bowl down on the
coffee-table, took another big swallow of Angel's drink and sputtered, "Geeze Angel! No wonder
you're so well preserved. How much alcohol is in this?"
Angel snatched the
glass, downing the rest. "Your under twenty-one." He grimaced as the
alcohol burned down his throat. "You have ice- cream, stay out of my
liquor."
"Piss-eee,"
she huffed as she flopped down on the couch. "Someone had a bad night."
"Cordelia."
His tone was warning enough. She picked up her bowl and began to eat as he
stalked back to the kitchen and fixed himself another drink. After a
moment's hesitation, he grabbed the bottle and brought it with him to
the living room. He sat down next to Cordelia on the love seat,
noting that Cordy was attacking her ice-cream with gusto. He'd hear her
whine about it later, but the site of her eyes rolling back in her
head as she savored a particularly huge bite eased a the ache in
his heart a little.
He really ought to
take Cordelia home but he was torn between the need for privacy and
the need to watch over her. Seeing Cordy's face tonight as she slept
in Wesley's arms had affected him. Whatever she felt, it had to have
been horrible for her to allow herself to be held. It only added to
the turmoil in his head caused by Buffy, but he couldn't help
thinking that it should have been him that she turned to and not Wes.
"So, you gonna
drive me home after this?"
Angel snapped out of
his reverie to find her looking at him expectantly. "Do you want to go?" he
asked, while wondering if she had read his thoughts.
Her focus drifted to a
point just over his shoulder. "I know you'd rather be alone."
She jabbed her spoon into her ice cream, pulling it free only to stab it
again.
"That's not what
I asked," he replied. "Do you want to go home?"
Her voice was so
small, he almost didn't catch her answer. "Not really."
"Cordelia, are
you all right?" He had never seen the effects of a vision linger for so
long. It had him genuinely worried.
"I just don't
want to be alone with my head right now," she mumbled.
Cordy scooped up a
large spoonful of ice cream and ate it. Her eyes cut to his then
quickly away. He was still staring, and she was getting visibly
uncomfortable. He took a sip of his whiskey, she ate another bite. They
continued eating and drinking in thick silence until she slid the
bowl onto the coffee-table. She leaned back against the couch,
hands drumming absently on her belly. Finally, her head rolled and she
looked at him.
Angel set his drink
down and slid around until he was facing her, one arm resting across the
back of the couch. He waited, and tried not to let his mind drift
back to his evening with Buffy. Focusing on Cordelia meant keeping
his mind off of the feel of Buffy in his lap, her hands locked
around his neck before she pushed him away, her lips moving urgently
against his....
"It's just, they
were kids," Cordy began, once again dragging Angel back to the present.
"The headache is gone, but...I keep flashing on what they did to those
girls, how much it hurt." She swallowed, unable to continue.
Her eyes were the color of his whiskey, a deep amber-brown that
glittered with unshed tears. Her hands were clenched, her whole
body tense.
Angel surreptitiously
sniffed the air. There was something...not arousal, but the sharp
hint of anxiety that made his nose twitch with predatory
anticipation. He pushed it down. "Cor, it didn't happen. Buffy and I sat on a
park bench and watched those children play until their parents came to
take them home."
She smiled and
sniffed. "Really?" A couple of tears spilled from her eyes to make their way
down her cheek.
He reached up and
brushed his thumb across her cheek. He rubbed the moisture onto his
pants, resisting the urge to suck his thumb into his mouth and taste
her sadness. He shouldn't have allowed himself the gesture. Aside
from the occasional hug, he kept a distance, for her protection as well
as his.
Maybe it was the
alcohol, or the dawning realization that he didn't *like* to see Cordelia
in pain, but his other hand slid from its perch on the couch to
smooth her hair away from her face. He smiled for her, not because
he wanted to, but because she needed him to. "Really. We
killed all the demons and then waited to make sure that nothing would
happen to the children. They're all safe, probably tucked into their beds
sound asleep, dreaming of...." he scowled. "Whatever little kids dream
about."
She chuckled.
"It's official, you *really* never did have a childhood, did
you?"
"Not one that
you'd understand," he answered dryly. "Ireland in the seventeen-hundreds...."
"Was very
different and very boring. Any time that pre-dates the mall is the ninth circle of
hell as far as I'm concerned."
"It wasn't that
bad!" he defended, giving her his best wounded expression. He leaned
forward and poured himself another drink. He sat back,
unconsciously drawing a fraction closer to Cordelia. She snagged his glass and
stole another sip, her face contorting as she swallowed.
"You know, I ate
dinner out of that," he confided, hoping to discourage her from
stealing any more of his liquor.
She just shrugged.
"Whatever, as long as you rinsed it out really good." She gave
him her patented squinty-stinkeye. "You did, didn't you?" She handed
him the glass, sounding more confident than she looked. "What am
I saying, of course you did. You are the original anal retentive--"
Angel clamped his hand
over her mouth. "Careful now, I'm the anal retentive *what* that
signs your paychecks?" He slowly removed his hand.
She bit her bottom
lip. "Ummm...the sweetest, manliest, hunk of a vampire in LA?"
She shamelessly batted her eyelashes at him, clasping her hands under her
chin as she continued in a theatrical voice. "Who just loves his witty
and stylish secretary-slash-seer so much that he's going to tell her
any second now that he's giving her a raise so that she can get this
to-die-for dress she saw on Rodeo Drive...."
Angel gave her his
blank face. Her act was ineffectual, if endearing, and he knew from
experience, playing dumb was the quickest way to get her to shut up.
Sensing defeat, she
heaved a dramatic sigh and smacked him in the gut. Unfortunately it
was at the exact same time he decided to take a drink. He was quite
lucky that he didn't have to breathe as the amber fluid flooded his
lungs, making him sputter and try to cough it up.
Cordelia curled into a
ball, rolling from side to side on her end of the couch, laughing
that full-on uninhibited laugh of hers. She pointed at his red
face and bulging eyes then erupted into another gale of laughter,
clutching her sides in an attempt to calm down.
Angel glared at the
young woman beside him then couldn't help but chuckle. "See if
I give you that raise now," he said, trying to sound stern but failing
miserably.
"Ha!" she
scoffed. "Like you ever were, you big tight-wad." She nudged him in the side
with her big toe. Evidently the alcohol had blurred some of her
boundaries as well. "So what's the plan, Boss? We hang out and try to
pretend neither one of us had a sucky night?"
"Sounds good to
me," he agreed amicably. The alcohol was spreading sluggishly through his
system, giving him a false sense of warmth. Cordy's laughter made
the darkness invading his heart retreat a fraction. Her presence
was comforting, unlike the last two times he'd been on this couch
with a woman. Rebecca Lowell had drugged him, releasing his demon,
and Buffy had writhed under his hands as he tasted her and
pleasured her with his mouth.
The act with Buffy had
been hollow, as had Rebecca's interest in him. Cordelia was a friend,
someone with whom he shared a connection, however unlikely. She
didn't have expectations of him other than to take care of her
visions.
Her slit denim skirt
fell open slightly, teasing him with an unexpected expanse of toned and tanned thigh. She
was also very beautiful....
She sat up. Instead of
moving away, she slouched over, resting her head on his shoulder.
She shut her eyes and sighed. Angel lay his temple against her
head, almost exactly as he'd seen Wes earlier...only Wes had his arm around her. It was
a bad idea, but he did it anyway, shifting, pulling her into the
crook of his arm until she was nestled against his side. He felt her
stiffen but didn't say anything, didn't look at her to check for a
reaction. He would have smelled it if he was making her nervous. He lay
his head back on hers, smiling to himself as he felt her relax
once more.
Angel's mind drifted
to his evening with Buffy. He'd made a monumentally stupid move, but whenever he was
close to her all he could think of was getting closer. It made him
reckless and needy, jealous and out of sorts. He was beginning to
doubt that even sex, under such circumstances, would have triggered
his curse. He was simply too desperate to prove to them both that
no man would be better for her than him. In short he had been a
selfish bastard.
He let his own body
relax, the day's tension leeching out of his cold skin as Cordy's warm
presence lulled his muscles into something close to contentment. He
felt her breathing even out, then she sucked in a breath and yawned, her
jaw cracking. He pulled away enough to look down at her. She
tilted her head up, cheeks dimpling as she grinned sheepishly.
Angel couldn't help
but stare. Her dark eyes twinkled, the pain of her vision-memories
simply a shadow behind golden brown. Her smile was genuine, and
blindingly gorgeous. His body tightened as the atmosphere between
them sizzled with possibilities. The rational part of Angel dismissed the
very idea, but the part of him that was suffering from a
bruised and battered ego gladly admitted there was a crackle
of...something, that roiled along his nerves. For the first time since he could
remember knowing her, he looked at Cordelia Chase and saw her, not as an
employee or a friend, but simply as a woman.
She seemed completely
oblivious to the change in the air, that is, until he leaned in to
kiss her.
He moved slowly,
entranced by the plump swell of her lips. They looked soft and supple
even without lipstick. He heard her draw in a breath and hold it. He
slid his hand down her shoulder, pulling her closer as he brushed
his nose against hers. When she didn't pull away, he slid his
cheek across Cordy's, trying to get her to turn, just that last little
bit....
"Angel?"
"Shhh," he
whispered, brushing his lips feather-light against hers. She smelled of
uncertainty and arousal. Her lips held just the slightest hint of
whiskey, a deep smoky intense flavor. He turned, bringing his other
hand up to thread into her hair, and pull her closer.
Cordy resisted, her
hands flying to his chest as she pushed him back. Instantly, he let her
go though his instincts whispered for him to hold her down and let
her fight. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head as she
scooted to the far end of the couch and stared at him like he'd sprouted a
second head.
"What in the
HELL!" She swiped at her lips, rubbing him off of her. "Are you
forgetting about the curse?" she bit out. She stewed silently for a moment,
then comprehension dawned, and her jaw slowly dropped. A look of
pure hurt crossed her face. "Of course, that wouldn't be a problem,
not with me, would it?" She let out a disgusted huff, her
eyes raking over him like with a disdain she usually reserved for
those she considered losers. "You know, Angelus is a bastard, but I
bet you could teach him lessons...."
"Cordy, I--"
Angel reached out to her, but she threw her hand up in a clear signal for him
to back off. "I don't know what I was...God, I am so sorry." He
scrubbed his hands through his hair, inwardly cursing himself for
his stupidity. Her intuition was as always, frighteningly
accurate. Leave it to Cordelia to pinpoint exactly which part of him had
screwed up.
"I can't believe
you would try and pull that crap with me Angel!" she snapped. "You
think I want to kiss that mouth after where it's been?" Her hand shot towards
his face. Thinking she might actually slap him he jerked back,
surprised when her thumb ran roughly over his bottom lip. When she pulled
it away there was a slight wash of pink.
She didn't say another
word, just let one elegantly arched brow raise. Suddenly he
wanted to kiss her anyway, to pull her to him and force her to taste
Buffy on his lips, to taste the bitterness that coated his tongue...to
shove his loneliness into the soft cavern of her mouth and make her
eat her words. He wanted to make her tremble with want as he had,
and then walk away and tell her they could only be friends, always
just friends....
All he could do was
stare at that greasy streak of pink lipstick as she curled her thumb
out of his sight. His lips tingled. Disgusted with himself, he
swiped at them with the back of his hand. "Cordelia, I'm sorry. I'll take
you home, I'll leave....whatever you want."
Her expression
gentled. "I'm just going to take my bowl over to the sink, okay? When I get
back, I don't want you to apologize any more or act all weird.
We'll just file that under male stupidity and you can brood and get
drunk until I fall asleep."
She was letting him
off the hook with nothing more than a stern warning. He found that
he was deeply grateful. He nodded, not trusting himself to
say the right thing when a simple shake of the head was enough for
that easy smile of hers to appear. She ambled into the kitchen and
he high-tailed it to the bathroom with as much speed as he could
muster without actually appearing to break out into a run. He had the
sudden urge to wash his face.
Angel had a vision of
his future, and in it he saw himself buying someone a to-die-for
black dress from a shop on Rodeo Drive, as well as the perfectly
matched shoes, and probably a new handbag...and lunch. The thought hit
him where it hurt. Cordy was right, he *was* a tightwad. He was also
fixing to be broke.
He *really* needed
another drink.
When he got back to
the living-room, Cordy had taken his spot on the couch. Her legs were
stretched out across the cushions, her message clear. Angel had worn
out his welcome. She flipped on the ancient thirteen-inch TV, as
he sat in an overstuffed chair and tried to pretend he didn't feel
awkward as hell. He had just tried to kiss Cordelia Chase....He
shivered. She had tasted so fucking good, and for a moment he had
genuinely desired her.
With a self-satisfied
smirk, her channel surfing halted when she found a show called
Saved by the Bell. Five minutes later, Angel decided she'd make a
great vampire. She had torture down to an art- form. Somehow the
thought was a comforting one; Cordy trying to get under his skin was
Cordy acting as close to normal as she got. Cordy getting on his nerves
chased thoughts of a carnal nature right out of his brain....At least
she'd taken his mind off of Buffy for a while.
Buffy.
Just fucking great.
Now he couldn't get *her* out of his head. He pinched the bridge of
his nose. This evening's events had left him with a headache the
alcohol had yet to dull.
Halfway into the show
Angel heard a faint but distinct sound. Cordelia was snoring softly, the remote
precariously balanced in her loose grip. Angel had gone through his drink and
fixed himself another. He wasn't as drunk as he wanted to be,
but after he put Cordy to bed, he'd have the couch, TV, and
alcohol all to himself.
He got up, and gently
scooped Cordelia up into his arms. Her eyes opened a fraction,
"What?" she asked, as her arms wrapped around his neck. He headed for
his bedroom.
"I'm just taking
you to bed," Angel froze in momentary panic. "I didn't mean it
like..."
In her half sleeping
state, Cordelia's tongue was both looser and sharper, "Like
let's have pity sex because my ex-girlfriend dumped all over me and I
couldn't handle it?"
"Riiight."
Angel said warily. He bent easily with Cordy in his arms and pulled back the
covers. He set her down but she still had a grip around his neck. She
pulled him down with her. He braced himself over her. "Cordy, you
have to let go."
"Hmm?" she
mumbled.
He balanced himself on
one arm while he pried her hands loose. She rolled underneath him,
resting on her side. He smiled softly, resisting the urge to
kiss her cheek in fear she'd misunderstand the gesture. Instead of
getting up and claiming the couch, he rounded to the far side of the
bed, and lay down on his side, head propped on his elbow.
Cordy scooted around a
bit, kicked one leg out, tucked her arm under the pillow, and
slipped soundly to sleep while he watched. Once more he was torn between
the need to wallow in private and the instinct to protect. He
desperately wanted to live up to the faith that both she and Wes had in him,
but inwardly he was just waiting for his inevitable downfall.
He had let his father
down, had let his sire down, had let down countless people he
had failed to save as he wasted away in despair for years. Freshest of
all, and most painful, he'd let Buffy down. He'd failed to be the
man that she needed, so he'd left.
It awed, mystified and
most of all terrified him that Cordelia and Wesley depended on him
for their livelihoods. He reached out and touched Cordelia's
hair, twirling a long dark lock around his finger. Cordy however, was
bound to him by much more than just a paycheck. Some days that thought
had him a ghostly heartbeat away from packing his bags and running
as fast and as far as the nighttime would allow.
It was her face that
kept him here, the image of her expressive features twisted in
pain as the worst acts of both man and demon-kind were forced on to her.
Cordelia *needed* him, flaws and all. It touched a chord so
deep within that not even his demon reacted to her cries of pain or the
occasional times she would bleed from hitting her head or biting her
tongue. He didn't understand what that connection meant and
still hadn't figured it out by the time he fell into a troubled sleep.
The sharp slightly
tangy smell of blood and sweat woke him from his sleep. Sometime during
the evening he'd closed the gap between them and now lay with his
body molded along the length of Cordelia's. One arm was being used to
pillow Cordy's head. His other hand followed a leisurely trail from
her shoulder down her arm, grazing her hip, sliding down to find
the source of her womanhood. The fact that they were both naked seemed
like it should have bothered him a hell of a lot more than it did.
Her hand slid atop
his, fingers intertwining as he cupped her heat. She gently tugged his
hand away from temptation, settling it comfortably on her abdomen. Her fingers stroked
against his in a soothing gesture. She pressed her backside
against his growing erection. He rubbed her calf with his foot,
squeezing her tight and burying his face in her hair.
He breathed in her
scent. She smelled of the bright LA sun, sea-laden air and her favorite
perfume. As wonderful as it was, it wasn't the only scent that had
wakened him. He leaned up and peered at the open doorway of his
bedroom. Wesley was standing there watching, his dark blue eyes soaking up
the scene in front of him, missing nothing.
"Can I help
you?" Angel said with a lilt of sarcasm, noting that Wesley looked as if
he'd just finished a shower. His hair was damp, but he was dressed as
sharply as ever in kaki slacks and a powder blue button-down
shirt. He took off his glasses and began to clean them with a
freshly-ironed handkerchief.
"Will you protect
her?" Wes asked gravely.
"Always."
Angel replied with absolute conviction.
Cordy rolled onto her
back, Angel's fingers trailed across her stomach, tracing
circles around her belly-button. Her skin contrasted like sunlight against
his moon-pale fingertips. Her warm golden eyes met his and she
smiled.
"You trust me,
don't you?" Angel asked her.
Her hand cupped his
cheek, thumb tracing the outline of his lower lip. "You know I
do."
The bed dipped,
snapping Angel's attention back to the watcher. He drew Cordy closer,
guarding her jealously from prying eyes. "Go away, Wes."
Wes put his hand on
Angel's shoulder, pulling him around so he could judge Angel's
expression. "Do you love her?"
"I..." Angel
hesitated. "No, I don't. Not like that." He looked down at the beautiful,
trusting woman in his bed, "But maybe, one day...."
Wes shook his head,
his face filled with sadness and regret. "If you love her, you will
lose your soul."
"Don't be silly
Wes." Cordy admonished.
"I'm afraid I'm
not young lady, but mostly I'm just afraid." Wes answered.
Angel woke, eyes
flying open, arm reflexively tightening. He heard a soft "Ooof,"
as he squeezed the breath out of his bedmate. He became acutely cognizant of
the fact that his waking position mirrored his dream one. The part of
his brain that was still half asleep mourned the fact that in the
real world, clothes separated his skin from Cordy's. The other
part of his brain that was fully conscious was just thankful he
hadn't woken up hard. There was no way Cordy wouldn't have noticed.
Cordy gave his hand a
reassuring squeeze. "Afternoon, sleepyhead."
"You're
awake."
"I am now,"
she groused.
He rested his chin on
her shoulder. His body was warm with borrowed heat, a rare comfort.
Her fingers stroked in and out of his own, bringing his dream and
Wes' warning back in vivid detail. "Sorry," he mumbled, fighting the
urge to rub his cheek in her hair.
The weight of his
curse settled over his soul. This, whatever it was - -mutual comfort,
maybe-- was nice. Once they got up, by unspoken understanding, they
would pretend as if it had never happened. Neither of them could
afford to pay the price of getting too close, not when he was just
beginning to realize how precious their friendship was to him. "How's your
head?"
"Better thanks.
So....did you get so drunk last night that you forgot where you put
me?"
"More like I
forgot where I put me." He chuckled, giving her a good- natured squeeze,
"Besides, you're kind of cuddly for a human."
She chuffed,
"You're not going all weird again are you?"
"No weirder than
normal."
"Okay." She
adjusted her position, sliding her cheek over his bicep until she was comfy.
"I guess you should take me home soon, then you can have the whole
rest of the day to brood." She tried to pull her hand away but he
tightened his grip.
Angel wanted to
preserve this reality for as long as possible. "There's no hurry." As Cordy
relaxed, snuggling deeper into the shelter of his arms, Angel shut his eyes and
willed the outside world to stay away.
End.
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