Warmth by LAndrews
Summary: Falling is so hard to do.
Spoilers: Eternity, Season One
Notes: Eternity Post-Ep Vignette. Thanks: to Little Heaven for the once over.
The elevator wasn't
exactly a subtle entrance. She knew that he knew she was there, but Angel didn't
look up from his book. Cordelia slid the door open, giving it a hard shove so it
clunked good. "Wanna come, or just brood all night?" she said.
Angel sighed and laid his head back on the butter-soft leather of her favorite chair. He'd actually acted attached when she suggested it'd look great in her fabulous apartment.
"C'mon," she coaxed. "You've got years to brood, decades, even, but only one chance to be with us tonight. Tomorrow, poof! Today is gone. Kinda like, oh, say. yesterday?"
He didn't look at her, but his lip quirked. Encouraged, she walked past him and opened the frig. "Have you eaten?" The frig was empty, save for a half bottle of Ravenswood Merlot. "Oh. Never mind."
When she turned, he was watching her. His eyes were dark. Unreadable, but not scary, not flat. There was a lot hiding behind those eyes. "Spill."
"Sorry. Yeah, but the skank drugged you and we've already been there. Chains, remember?"
"She was warm."
"I'm warm, but you aren't all." warm back. Cordy's brain fritzed and oh-so-glad her lips had shut before finishing that thought. "I mean."
"No. She was really warm. Fever warm."
One time in the library, while Buffy was sparring with Giles, she had somersaulted over the table, brushing past Cordy. Her skin was dry and fever hot against Cordy's arm. "Slayer-warm."
Angel's long fingers tapped once on the arm of the chair. He looked away.
"I asked Giles about it once. He said all slayers have an elevated body temperature. He said it just like that. Elevated body temperature. It's a lure, basically."
Angel nodded and stood. "I just. I just didn't want you to think."
"What? That you'd fall for a skinny assed, no boobs, has-been actress over the voluptuous potential -" Cordy struck a pose - " that is me?"
He smiled. An honest-to-god grin that made Cordy's breath catch and her heart stutter for the infinity of a second before it leapt into action again.
"Something like that," he agreed.
She dropped her pose. So what if tiny and vulnerable was his thing? I am Woman, Cordy thought. Ghost-slaying, sword-swinging, vision-bearing Woman. "Wes is waiting. You coming?"
"Yeah." He glanced down at the faded book in his hands. "I can brood the decade away tomorrow, right?"
Despite her exasperation, tenderness welled up, warming her inside out. Cordy smiled, and wondered when she'd fallen for him. "Always."