Title: F*** Buddies
Author: DamnSkippy
Posted: 07-19-2003
Email: damnskippytoo@gmail.com
Rating: NC-17, Language and Sex
Category: Humor and Smut, Baby!
Content: C/A
Summary: Cordelia wishes for a fuck buddy and, boy howdy, does she get more than she bargained for.
Spoilers: Through Fredless of S3
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by JossWhedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: Anywhere, but please let me know, k?
Notes: For Angel his demon thoughts are surrounded by **asterisks**, while the soul’s thoughts are italicized. Everyone else’s thoughts are italicized.
Feedback: I find I need it. I tried to abstain, but I’m just a feedback whore. So, please tell me how pretty I am and how you want to bear my children, if only...
Thanks/Dedication:
Chapter 10
I can’t believe I’m sitting here empathizing with a vampire about his love life. Who would’ve thought an ex-Watcher and the Scourge of Europe would be swilling bourbon and crying over the women they can’t have. Not that said Scourge knows my pain. He doesn’t. No one does.
But drinking, nodding and occasionally grunting an “Ah” or an “I see” lets him know I’m still present physically even though the rest of me is currently being embalmed. Oh, if only I could crawl into a cherry finished, satin lined coffin and rest. No more brown eyes staring at me every day screaming of longing and lust...and none of it for me.
Four pairs of brown eyes. Three currently in one state or another of love and the fourth just in a state of confusion. I really envy that last pair. I wonder if I stepped off a curb and half of my brain spilled onto the concrete if I could sit here blissfully unaware of my own feelings. Is it better to be unloved and know it or be loved and not know it?
I polish off the shot in my hand and salute the not knowing option. For a man whose life has been spent divining knowledge and cherishing each nugget, the thought that ignorance is bliss should disturb me more. I think.
“What should I do?”
“Huh?”
“Wesley! I know I should let her go. That’s what I planned to do. Obviously, that’s the best thing for her, but, God! I can barely keep my hands off her. Every time I see her or look at that...that...mark on her neck, my skin tingles and my fingers itch to touch her. My mouth waters and it takes every bit of strength I have to keep my legs from propelling myself onto her body and erasing Angelus’ claim with my own.”
Wesley listened to his whining. His scarred fingers rolled the smooth shot glass back and forth until finally he clamped them around it so tightly his knuckles paled. A vampire in love was pathetic. If it was possible, even more pathetic than he was.
“Oh for Pete’s sake, Angel, shut up!”
**Thank Satan somebody said it!**
Angel was not expecting that. Only the shock of those words coming from Wesley’s mouth kept him from breaking his jaw.
“You’re almost 250 years old. Don’t you think it’s bloody time you grew up?” Wesley rose from his chair and slammed his glass on the table. Leaning forward, his fists holding up his shaking form, he burned all his self-hatred into those damn brown eyes.
“If you love her, tell her, man. It’s not as if you even have competition. She already loves you, how hard can it be to get her to fall in love with you? Pretty damn easy would be my guess. Do you even remember you’re a vampire?”
Angel got up to face off with him across the desk. “Of course, I do. That’s the problem!”
Wes didn’t flinch. “My Aunt Fanny. Shakespeare’s dead and you already played that scene with Buffy, and look how normal her life turned out. She’s died more times than a General Motors engine. What happened to that speech about finding happiness and love now and worrying about the pain tomorrow?”
“That was fantasy. This is reality.”
“No, Angel. This is you giving up. Again.”
**I’d help you kill him, but he’s growing on me.**
“Shut up!”
“I will not shut up, Angel.”
“Not you, Wes. Angelus.”
“Angelus?”
“Yeah. He’s on your side and it’s ticking me off.” Angel backed off from the desk and ambled toward the door running his hands through his hair in frustration.
“Your demon is on my side? That hardly seems...appropriate.”
“Yeah, well, he loves anybody who’ll tell me to shut up. That’s why he loves Cordy so much.” He leaned against the doorframe stuffing his hands in his pants pockets.
Wesley slumped backward and thudded into his chair. “You and your demon are in love with Cordy?”
“Yeah, Wes. Didn’t we already cover that with the whole claiming her discussion?”
“No we didn’t. I didn’t realize it was Angelus.” He looked like he might be sick and grabbed the bourbon pouring another shot.
“What difference does that make to you? I mean I know it makes a big difference in me. In how at peace I feel when I’m with her. But...”
“It makes a huge difference! Angel, your rampage in the office when Cordy was hurt was just the tip of the volcano. If your demon truly loves her, there’s no limit to what it might do to anyone who threatens her or even just stares at her. And that whole scenario I mentioned about half of Los Angeles meeting an untimely demise when she dies is no longer a theory but very likely a prophecy.”
**Okay, not really feeling the Wesley love anymore. Crushed windpipe or castration? Hmmm...eenie, meenie, miney, moe...**
“I can control Angelus.”
“Really?”
Angel’s shoulders stiffened. “If I couldn’t, you’d be a little less chatty and a lot more feminine right now.”
Wesley swallowed hard. Angel was rarely that honest about the conflict within him. But, bourbon is a great spine stiffener. “Then tell me. Did both you and Angelus claim her or did you try to stop him?”
Angel couldn’t look him in the eyes. “I tried to stop him.”
“And who really destroyed our offices and decided the plaster needed to be aerated?”
Again, Angel found the floor a much better conversationalist. “My demon. But, I let go. I was in agony and gave up control...” Angel’s head jerked up with awareness. God, Wesley was right. In his anguish he’d let his demon out and had wanted nothing more than to be free of the burden of caring - of feeling the pain that not being able to get to Cordy had caused.
Looking into Wesley’s eyes, he found no self-righteous satisfaction as expected but weariness and a deep sadness.
“Angel, I’m sorry. I do know...”
Suddenly Angel broke eye contact and turned his head to the left. In an instant the door was open and Angel was gone.
Wesley blinked and then followed. As he hit the lobby, he saw Angel round the corner at the top of the stairs. It wasn’t until then that he heard Fred’s scream of “Vision!”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Vision, schmision. That wasn’t a vision. That was messed up. That was a Wes Craven production with a little Deepthroat and Debbie Does Dallas mixed in. This is messed up.
Flashes of halogen lit dumpsters mixed with plush linens tangled around muscled thighs. Images of candlelit bubbles and shadow striped brick flared amid massaging hands on lathered breasts. Smells of rotting cabbage and urine were overpowered with male musk and lavender. A stranger’s throat ripped and stained red exploded into sparks of brown and gold orbs, wet and inviting.
Fear, hope, terror, joy, panic - the roller coaster of emotions alone threatened to overload her still fragile body with adrenalin and acid. The confusing images almost made her catatonic.
Which was which? Was the victim overjoyed to be gouged by the demon’s horn or terrified? And was he in Angel’s room or an alley off Olympic? Did he really feel complete and whole as the horn pierced his heart and drained him of his life and future?
And how did love figure into it? A demon in love with its victim? What the hell was that all about?
Cordelia’s head was still spinning from the vision hours afterwards. That part was normal. What wasn’t normal was six weeks worth of memories flooding her mind in the middle of a searing vision. It was a delicate and strange moment when she had to relay the vision to Wes.
”Cordelia, what did you see?” Wesley knelt on one leg with pad and pen ready to interpret and record the details.
“Huh?”
“Cordy, take your time.” Angel had her left hand in his hands and was gently brushing his thumb across her wrist and palm.
“Angel?” An unbidden blush covered her face and chest at the sight of his caring stare. “Angel, I don’t understand...”
“It’s okay, Cor...”
She looked at his massive, tender hands caressing her and didn’t want to pull away. Why? It was very intimate. Very soothing. And, she didn’t want it to stop. In truth, she wanted his hand to move up her arm, over her shoulder and cup her cheek. She licked her lips and the salt she tasted was not her own. She shuddered and swallowed.
“Cordy? What’s wrong? What’s going to happen?”
“I...I don’t know.” Suddenly, her head snapped as the vision took over her muddled mind and replayed. The Powers, for once, cleared up the matter instead of making it more complicated.
“A man, an alley near Olympic and San Vicente and a three-horned demon. No, two demons. He’s going to get ripped apart...and, God, there’s a little boy...in about an hour.”
Angel’s hands left hers to fight. She remembered she whimpered at the loss and a fear overpowered her. Not fear for the man or even the little boy. Fear for Angel and for her. A deep abiding sense that if he didn’t return she’d stop breathing. That was definitely not normal, and it both disturbed and thrilled her.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
**Man I love to kill shit! The knees! Go for the knees! Bam! Try walking on that stump...woops. Stumps! Fucked you over good, mother fucker!**
Angel’s rage matched his demon’s. Different reasons, same result...an incredible urge to pound the crap out of something.
He could touch her in pain but not in love. He hated himself for hoping she’d have visions constantly just to be able to feel her velvety skin and breathe in her intoxicating scent. To taste her with is hands and his mouth and his eyes every hour of every day...
The three-horned, now two-horned...now one-horned demon took the brunt of his self-hatred.
“Angel. Yo, Angel, man...it’s dead. Really, really not alive anymore. Soup’s done, dog.” The words weren’t reaching the killing machine and Gunn was just a little too freaked by his friend’s rampage to try to stop him.
“Wes, aren’t you gonna do something?” Gunn asked.
“What do you suggest I do? Hug him? He’s got issues. Best to let him work them out on that demon than hold all that anger inside.”
“Barbie issues?”
Wesley turned a surprised eye Gunn’s way. “You know?”
“Who don’t? It ain’t like either of ‘em is some dead language you got to get a masters degree in to read.”
“Be that as it may, she doesn’t remember, and he has decided he won’t try to help her remember. What he’s doing to that monster is what that decision is doing to him inside.”
There was a soft hitch in Wes’s voice and an inward reflection in his eyes that Gunn recognized. It was the sound and look of empathy.
Wesley didn’t see or hear the click in Gunn’s mind.
The alley, the demon’s blood, the vampire’s screams...nothing penetrated his thoughts. He spoke to himself now. “There’s really no way to stop him from beating himself up. He waited and missed his chance. He’ll stop only when he’s had enough and then he’ll start again, because that’s just how it works. All we can do is wait.”
Gunn’s hand rose to comfort his friend’s shoulder. He stopped short when the weight of his guilt for his part in Wesley’s pain shoved his hand down.
Leaving the carnage, Wesley inwardly laughed at his life. Everything he suffered was the result of waiting. Years of waiting for his father to love him. Even more years of waiting to not need that love. Waiting too long to approach Fred had cost him her love. And, now he must wait again...wait until she leaves his heart...if he can ever get her back as a friend.
An image of his tombstone flashed in his mind, the perfect epitaph inscribed: ‘He waited well.’
Gunn looked at Angel still wailing on demon bits and then at his other friend’s back as he walked away and knew he was looking at two sides of the same coin. He shook his head disgusted with his own stupidity. Easy to be blind when you don’t want to see.
“I’m sorry, Wes.”
But the man - the friend - was gone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Alone with the headache, the queasiness and the new and amazing emotions battling for clarity, it wasn’t surprising that the aura that greeted Lorne as he approached the bed was equally as unsettling. He flinched and covered his eyes at the sight.
“Whoa, Princess. I’ve never seen an aura throw up before.” Red eyes peeked cautiously between green fingers. His legs felt weak forcing him to sink next to her on the bed. Gradually, with some deep breaths and a few sips of his Cadillac Martini, he adjusted to the light show. Barely.
“If you think it’s bad out there, you should be on this side.” She attempted a wan smile but her lips wouldn’t curl up against the pain.
“No thanks, hon. I like my life simple. You know, the not-in-love-with-my-best-friend kind?” He winked and toasted her before taking a sip.
“What? You must be drunk or blind. Or blind drunk. That is not...”
Cordy scrunched her eyes shut and reached deep in her mind.
“...what is happening...”
“It's kinda funny now, though, since y'all proved the curse isn't a problem any more."
Her eyes and mouth burst open while her body popped up. As the snippets of memories aligned themselves, she experienced what can only be described as watching a porn movie on a magic fingers bed in a desert. Only she and Angel were the stars of the movie and they were hot.
The lack of blood to her brain and the sudden rush of overwhelming embarrassment and awe sent her straight back to the pillow with a soft thump. A sharp pain shot from the back of her head to the front of her eyes.
“Ow! Oh, geez. That’s what Fred meant? Oh, my god! I’m in love with Angel?” she said as disbelieving and dismayed as if she’d just figured out she was in love with...well, Angel.
Lorne smiled. “There ya go. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Well, at least for you. It’s been hell for the rest of us.”
“The rest of us? Who knows?”
“Who doesn’t? I mean, besides Angel. I think they even did a Monday Night Special Dateline. That Stone Phillips is hunkalicious, isn’t he?” Pausing to picture said hunk for a moment, Lorne’s pleasant reverie was shattered as her disapproving look changed quickly to a pained one.
She gasped as an unwanted memory sent a jolt of adrenalin coursing through her body.
“I remember now. The accident. I was coming to talk to Angel. About the mark.” She gently rubbed her neck. “I wanted to know if he... Anyway, I was thinking and not watching where I was going.”
“Your bite? Oh, it’s just a regular bite. Nothing special. The quick drain kind. Trust me, it’ll fade eventually.”
“Angel lied to me about the mark. Why?”
“Cordelia, everybody lied to you about that. How do you think you would’ve felt if we’d said, ‘That mark? Oh, it’s nothing. Angelus just put it there to claim you as his mate. Would you like some ice cream?’ You would’ve crawled right out the front door and laid in front of a bus this time.”
When her head didn’t immediately spin around at the news, Lorne held his breath for the inevitable explosion. When the only change was a pensive shadow in her eyes, he let out a ‘phew’ and looked longingly at his empty glass.
If only it had been Angel, she thought. Angelus. It was just Angelus. The same doubt resurfaced that had crept in the morning of the accident. The fear that it was only Angelus that wanted her. That Angel didn’t share the demon’s desire to claim her forever.
Lorne saw the change in her aura and decided to nip this little nipper in the butt. “Oh, no, pumpkin. Don’t even go there. Angel is head over heels in love with you.” He got up and decided a little background music was needed. He turned on the Angel’s radio, which was tuned to an oldies station. The crisp harmony of the Everly Brothers’ All I Have To Do Is Dream suffused the room.
She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Right. That’s why he’s treated me like a leper for the past three weeks.”
Moving around the room, Lorne began tidying up and humming softly. Even confined to bed, Cordy managed to leave a wake of dirty clothes, used dishes and balled up tissues.
“Well, duh. It’s not because he doesn’t love you, it’s because he does. Don’t you think it might be difficult for him to be around you when you still think of him as a eunuch? Besides, I think he’s pulling a Buffy.”
“He’s whining about not being a normal girl, wearing horrible floral prints with flip-flops and not staying dead? Okay, that last part he’s been doing for a long time...”
Lorne stopped his cleaning and shivered at the fashion faux pas she described. “No, no, no. He’s doing the whole noble thing again. You know - giving you up for your own good, letting you walk in the sunshine - like cancer is a better choice here. Pfft. In other words, making your decisions for you in that lovely way he has of not asking what you want first.”
“You mean in that way that gets him killed when I find out about it?” Her eyebrow arched and folding her arms across her chest, she pushed up her breasts up like a dual weapon and shield.
“That’s the one. Nice to know there are still some things in life you can count on, isn’t it?” He moved back to the bed and pinned her with an unwavering glare.
“Besides, my little secret garden, you haven’t exactly been straight with him. How is he supposed to make a good decision when he doesn’t have all the facts? Like...oh, for example...you’re madly in love with him, too?” Lorne gave her an eyebrow lift that equaled or surpassed her own.
Cordy cringed only slightly at that rebuke. After all, why did she have to be the one to say it first? He’s the one with the big Buffy love. He’s the one that needs to reassure her, not the other way around.
But, there was a bigger problem that flooded her body with chills. Her fear of unleashing Angelus. No matter what Angel said and no matter how the demon may feel about her, she was terrified that once words of love were spoken between them, the wall that kept the demon in would be destroyed and others would pay the price.
I can’t risk all their lives. Damn, I hate being a fuckin’ martyr.
The self-loathing she felt at having to be a hypocrite and not give Angel a choice in this decision came through clearly when she bitterly spat, “I can never tell him that. It’s too dangerous.”
Lorne’s face went from blank to ah-hah in more time than it should have taken. But, once the fog cleared, he couldn’t suppress his glee.
An appropriately timed Elvis song provided him with the perfect background and inspiration. “Well, Love Me Tender but make it hurt, did I forget to tell you the important part? The part about you being Angel’s cosmic condom?”
Cordy’s jaw dropped and then her nose wrinkled in disgust. “I’ve gotta tell ya, not a pretty picture being painted in my mind right now. And, huh?”
Lorne got the same picture and had to admit he bit the big one with that metaphor. He sat again and patted her wringing hands. “The only thing your love can do for the stud muffin is make him happy. ‘Real’ happy not homicidal bliss happy. You two fit. Always have and always will. So, see? Nothing to worry about.”
She stared at him clearly still in the dark. “I see like a blind man. What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s all very scientific. Basically your two souls are stuck together with superglue. Angelus won’t be able to tear them apart. Fred’s working on a powdered version you can mix with juice that will make her fabulously rich and won’t we be riding her Gucci gown hem all the way to Rodeo Drive?”
He winked and she smiled, although she still wasn’t exactly sure why. From what she did understand, Angelus couldn’t come out if she and Angel were together and that’s all that mattered. The rest was just weird.
“So when are you going to break the happy news to the love of your life?” He rose again and went to the closet to look for the perfect ensemble for the lovers’ rendezvous.
Cordy’s euphoria was short-lived when Angel’s taunt flashed fresh in her mind.
“Melting is not what you want a man to do in your hands. If that’s what’s been happening on your dates, no wonder you’re still single.”
And how could she forget that smirk as he said it? She felt just as pissed off as the first time. And the weapons cleaning for a year? If she confessed her love before he did, there’s no way Angel would let her off the hook. Oh, he might let it slide for a month or two, but eventually he’d bring it up and tease her endlessly about losing and guilt her into it.
Besides, she didn’t want to spend the rest of their lives arguing about who actually fell in love first. No. This had to be settled. She might love him, but she was not going to lose to him.
“I’m not going to tell him. There’s more at stake here than love.”
Lorne spun around, perplexed and not pleased. “What’s more important than that?”
Her evil smile should have made him quiver in his boots, but something about it peaked his interest and tickled the demon in him.
He wasn’t disappointed when all she would say was, “A bet.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Eight days later
“You’re really getting good with those crutches, girl. How about I race you to the fountain and back.” Gunn got down in his racing pose by the weapons cabinet ready to bolt.
Two exasperated “Gunns” and one “Charles” were simultaneously uttered from various positions around the Hyperion. Fred was on the couch, her feet propped on the table, with a demonology text in her lap researching. Angel sat at the counter with a mug of blood and the sports section of the LA Times opened in front of him, and Wesley was at Cordelia’s desk using her computer.
“It’s okay, guys. Sorry, Gunn. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” Cordy limped her way down from the last step and stood next to him. A twinkle in her eye told Gunn she had a secret and his curiosity and ego made him forget who he was dealing with.
Rising to his full height, chest puffed out, he said, “I ain’t the one gonna be embarrassed. What’s the matter, gimpy? Scared?” His wink was the gauntlet she couldn’t refuse.
“Okay. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.” She sidled up next to him stretching the feet of her crutches out in front, her fingers curling around the padded wood feeling for the perfect grip.
“Cordy,” Angel begged.
She ignored him. “Fred, give us the call.”
Fred set her book to the side and turned around to watch. With the authority of an Olympic track announcer, she bellowed. “Okay. Runners are you ready?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yep.”
“On your mark!”
Gunn dug the tips of his Nike’s in making a screeching noise matched by Cordy’s rubber tipped crutches grinding for purchase.
“Get set!”
He knelt in the perfect runner’s stance, his knuckles unaware of the cold floor as they balanced and held his weight ready to lever him forward. Cordy merely planted her feet firmly, one clad in a trendy Manolo pump set slightly behind the other adorned in plain plaster de Pair-ree. She placed most of her weight on the pump.
Angel looked at Cordy’s face and stance. He could see she wasn’t correctly positioned for walking, let alone running. Then he saw the same twinkle Gunn had seen earlier. Only where Gunn imagined a secret, Angel read maniacal glee. He smiled and relaxed, knowing what was about to happen.
Fred raised her arm and then brought it down swiftly, simultaneously yelling out, “Go!”
It took only a second for Gunn to rocket from the floor, the fountain and victory in sight, and for Cordy to flip her crutch to the side and jam it in his path.
“Charles,” Fred yelped as she saw her boyfriend trip, stumble and then slide fifteen feet, face down, across the lobby.
**Nice slap shot. Way to lay his ass out. Even crippled she’s hot.**
Cordy looked at the chuckling face and clapping hands of Angel and took a careful bow. She felt her cheeks flush at the look of pride and desire she saw there.
Wesley tried to stifle his amusement at the prostrate body of his rival but decided to gloat instead. He didn’t often get the chance. “Nice form. A little sloppy on the execution and penalty points for actually falling for the oldest crutch trick in the book. I give it a minus 1.5.”
“Wesley,” Fred tried to admonish, but her giggles kind of detracted from the force of the reprimand. Her hands covered her mouth to cut off her snort when Gunn’s disappointed eyes pinned her.
“Nice. My own girl mockin’ me. Isn’t anybody concerned if I’m hurt?”
“Don’t be a baby. I’m more concerned that your hard head might have chipped the granite floor,” Cordy tossed out as she crossed to the couch.
Gunn slowly got to his knees and then stood, wiping the wrinkles and shame from his pants. “I’m just glad you all were here to witness the cheating.”
“What cheating?” Cordy asked. “I never said I would race you.” She smugly lowered herself onto the couch next to Fred. “I said I didn’t want to embarrass you.”
Gunn opened his mouth to stick his foot in when Angel stopped him.
“Don’t even try, Gunn. She got you fair and square. Take it like a man.” Glancing at Cordy he almost gasped when he saw what he thought was a flirtatious wink and a sultry biting of her lower lip. But that couldn’t be. It was just a friendly conspiratorial wink and she probably bit her lip due to a sudden sharp, leftover accident pain.
The only problem is he’d been misreading her a lot lately. Since she’d had the stitches removed and been given the crutches a week ago, she’d been able to work and be around all the time. All of her bruises and scrapes were practically healed, and she looked and acted more and more like the woman he’d tasted and touched only a little over a month ago.
It seemed like forever, though, since he’d felt the velvet skin of her breasts and the silky slickness of her...God, he had to get out. Every day was torture, and it wasn’t getting easier. He’d fooled himself one too many times that he’d smelled the wonderful ambrosia of her arousal when his mind knew it wasn’t possible. He was officially going insane which could not be good when combined with an already demented vampire.
Speaking of his demon, even he wasn’t enjoying the pain. The things Angelus wanted him to do every time she entered the same room – well, it was getting more and more difficult to stop himself from acting on those suggestions. And right now, he was whispering to him to jump on the counter, unzip his pants, pull out his cock and see how she’d react to him stroking himself. Okay, not the most subtle demon, but Angel had to admit that would definitely make a statement she couldn’t ignore.
His hand was inching toward his crotch before he was conscious of it. When Angel looked down and saw his fingers poised to pinch the metal zipper head before exposing his own, he quickly yanked his hand away and slapped it on the counter.
The loud sound startled everyone, but especially Cordy. “Geez, Angel. Did you just discover you had an intense hatred for laminated countertops?”
“Uh, no! I just remembered something. Something I’ve got to...uh...”
“Do, see, kill?” she finished for him.
“Eat! I just remembered I’m almost out of blood. Gotta restock.” He was moving toward the basement door as he pulled on his trench coat. “Anyone need anything while I’m out? No? Okay, good. See ya later.” The door slammed harder than it should for someone just running an errand.
Fred looked at Cordy who returned her wide-eyed stare. Both women’s cheeks pooched out with the guffaws they were holding in. Cordy broke first, cackling and slapping Fred’s shoulder as she fell backwards.
The slight shove by Cordy forced Fred’s laughter out between motor-boating lips. She swiped at the spittle on her mouth and shoved her face into a throw pillow embarrassed by the less than feminine sound she made.
Wesley and Gunn gaped at the hysterical women and then each other sharing equally flummoxed and amused expressions.
“What’s so funny about Angel going for blood besides the obvious, ya know, anybody going for blood weird factor?” Gunn asked the question to Wes not really expecting him to answer. And he didn’t. He just shrugged.
After a moment he offered, “Perhaps it was his delivery.” Wesley’s serious conjecture was met with a renewed bout of giggle fits by the women on the couch.
“Yeah, that’s it. Angel’s the poster boy for delivery,” Fred spat out between gasps. Cordy’s eyes shot wide open and she doubled over in pain at the double entendre shy, innocent Fred had just made.
Not that the boys knew, of course. Only she and Cordy had any inkling of Angel’s “delivery” capabilities. Because of their newly established sisterhood, Fred was privileged to hear a few naughty details about Angel’s sexual prowess and, boy howdy, did he have prow. At least according to Cordy who, she had to admit, being biased might tend to exaggerate. But she didn’t think so. All you had to do was look at him to know that man had more ‘it’ than should be allowed in one person.
Not that Gunn was a slouch in that department, ‘cause nuh-uh. But, there’s something about your first big puppy love that never goes away, and now knowing pretty much what she was missing made Fred a little jealous. Just a little though.
More than that, she was sad for the two of them. She was lucky to have Charles and she knew it. As she wiped away the laughing tears, she looked at her guy casually goofin’ with Wesley, making the stoic man smile, and her heart skipped a beat at the ease of him. He was uncomplicated and open, exactly what her formerly slave-girl-in-a-hell-dimension soul needed.
It was a blessing that Angel loved Cordy because she wouldn’t have been able to cope with the problems loving Angel caused. You needed to be a lot more sane than she was to deal with the emotional wreckage anybody that old brought to a relationship. Especially when the guy wasn’t the type to talk about it. At all.
So, in a way she understood why Cordy was doing this. After all, Cordy knew Angel better than she did, and if she said the direct approach would only send him running for the hills, then she was probably right. According to her, Angel had to realize on his own, with her help of course, that he couldn’t live without her before he’d actually give up the martyr act.
Even so, she didn’t like lying to Charles and Wesley. Cordy said she couldn’t tell them because they’d either let it slip or feel obligated to do the male loyalty thing and tell Angel. Hence the big secret. The one that gave her giggles and stomach aches simultaneously. The one about Cordy remembering everything and the big plan to get Angel to admit he loved her.
Still, as much as she loved being a part of something that would hopefully bring her friends a lot of happiness, every once in a while her heart stopped when she saw the pain in Angel’s eyes. He was suffering and it didn’t seem to get any easier. It just seemed so cruel to keep him in the dark like this. But, Cordy needed more time to heal and put her plan in motion. Plus the fact that the major player was out of town had delayed things a bit.
But, tonight was the night. Everything had been arranged by e-mail over the course of the past week. All they needed now was a vampire in the right place at the right time and Sir Isaac Newton.
Newton’s First Law of Motion: A body continues in its state of constant velocity (which may be zero) unless it is acted upon by an external force.
If Fred didn’t know better, she’d swear Cordelia had studied at the feet of the legendary physicist. The whole plot to snare the reticent vampire played like a musical version of Newton’s laws of motion, which made remembering her part in the equation easier. Her part being the external force to get the zero velocity Angel to act. Well, sorta. Mostly Cordelia’s “major player” would be that force, but Fred would add the extra push and direction.
Fred’s stomach clenched as a sudden possible snag in the plan occurred to her. Turning to the hiccupping woman next to her, she whispered, “What should I do if Angel doesn’t get back in time? We didn’t count on him being gone.”
Cordy poo-poo’d her fears with a wave of her hand. “It doesn’t matter. Although it would be a pity since I’ve got a great speech prepared for him, and I’d really love to see his face. But, he’ll notice I’m gone eventually and be curious. If he doesn’t, just be yourself and gush excitedly about what happened while he was out. Trust me. The bait will be taken one way or the other.”
Fred didn’t want to be the one to tell Angel. It was going to be bad enough watching him get all twitchy like an unpinned grenade. She really didn’t want to be the one to pull out the pin in the first place. But, she’d do it if she had to. She had Cordy to think about and she couldn’t let her or Sir Isaac down. Besides it was just a science experiment - hopefully one that wouldn’t blow up in any of their faces.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It was almost eight o’clock when Angel neared the hotel, a bag of blood in one hand and a vanilla ice cream cone in the other. He congratulated himself for actually remembering to purchase blood just in case someone called him on it. He didn’t feel like trying to come up with an excuse for disappearing like he had.
He’d had a few good hours of not thinking about anything while he was gone. The closer he got to home, however, the more the conflict he faced bubbled inside.
He licked the cone slowly, quietly doing his version of “she loves me, she loves me not” with the disappearing dessert. Only his was “she’s still here, she’s not.” He hated himself for hoping she was still there so he could at least be near her but, at the same time, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping she’d be gone so he wouldn’t have to feel the perpetual pain.
He stopped on the sidewalk and stared at the warm picture the columns framed. The light from the lobby perfectly backlit the fountain and made the water sparkle. The gurgling noise soothed him and he craned his neck to look at the almost black sky in search of stars. But, as usual, the city lights washed out any chance of celestial gazing, so he settled for admiring the nearly full moon as he gave a “she’s still here” lick.
For a wonderful moment, he felt peaceful. There was a slight breeze tickling the back of his neck. He indulged in a fantasy moment. The one where he was coming home from a fight, and the light in the window burned for him. The silhouette behind the glass moved quickly to the door to welcome him and make sure he was safe. As the form flitted into the moon’s beams, the smile was the first feature to move from shadow to light and its brightness turned the night into day. It was her smile. It was always her smile.
Wow, it never seemed this real before.
“Angel? Are you okay?”
He focused quickly on the fantasy made real standing a bit wobbly on her crutches just in front of the fountain. She looked beautiful. Her hair was softly curled, just like in his fantasy. The skirt of the antique white dress gently swayed and caressed her thighs in the night breeze. The bodice clung to her breasts like a second skin and dipped suggestively low but not indecently so.
Her glossy pink lips curled up and parted granting him that smile once again. Then she was coming toward him. He took a breath and realized his tongue was still in mid lick. He cleared his throat, licked his lips to clean off the stickiness, and stood in awe at the apparition floating toward him.
They almost touched and then she passed through...or was it around...him. He turned to see his dream become a nightmare.
Another man’s lips were on her smooth cheek. Another man’s hand was fondling her arm as he helped her toward his...limo? Where had that come from?
“Cordelia?”
She twisted to look at him, that smile merely a leftover of the one she flashed for him. “Goodnight, Angel. See you tomorrow.”
As the black, motorized behemoth left the curb with his heart, every muscle in his body let go. The bag of blood and cone met the concrete at the same time. Legs of steel barely held him up as the scene that just played before him sank in.
She just left him. Maybe not forever. Not yet. But it was the first step. He couldn’t believe it. How could she? How could she actually consider it? Even if she didn’t remember everything, he knew she had feelings for him before. She had to have felt something for them to be so...so...right together.
He never thought she’d actually be with someone else. In his mind the future had always included the two of them together, warrior and seer and best friends at least. But, now that future was folding and spindling before him and in the most cruel, insulting way possible.
The woman he loved was on a date with the one man he couldn’t compete with.
David Nabbit.
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