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 13
The limo ride had been the longest 18 minutes and 39 seconds of Angel’s life. Unless you included the 6 minutes and 14 seconds they had spent in the lobby of the hotel and getting into the limo. If you did, then it was the longest 24 minutes and 53 seconds of his life. He and his demon had counted every second of it.
And that bit of math had kept him occupied for another 21 seconds so he estimated he only had about 3 or 4 more hours to go.
He heaved a huge sigh as the door to the car was opened and he was free from the sight of Cordy and David whispering and giggling. But possibly more important was the distance he was putting between himself and Sheila’s hands. The woman was an octopus and she was making him sweat. As a vampire, he knew sweating was not in his book of dead biological functions so it had to be psychologically induced. She was officially driving him insane.
“What a beautiful restaurant,” Sheila said as she caught up with her almost sprinting blind date and once again wound her arms around his dangling one. His shoulders sagged as he gave up trying to escape. “I’ve heard about this place. It’s very exclusive. David, how did you manage to get us in?”
Only the rich and famous frequented Le Dome. Known in LA for its French cuisine it was even more notable for the celebrities and industry mucky mucks that made the restaurant their haunt.
“Well, actually, I didn’t,” David said, a little embarrassed that even his status wasn’t enough to persuade management to piss off a regular customer in favor of a David Nabbit party of four.
Angel, on the other hand, who was neither rich nor famous, was worth a network executive’s disappointment. Having rescued the owner, Eddie and his manager, Ramon, from a Finster demon three months earlier, Angel was given carte blanche of the place and all the free Dom he desired.
For a moment when they entered through the glass doors and both Eddie and Ramon surged to greet him, Angel beamed. The fuss they made over him normally would have forced his cold blood to his cheeks, but impressing Cordy was more important than his comfort. At that instant, he felt equal to the powerful David Nabbit and the proud smiles Cordy gave him had him floating as they were guided to the special table in the darkest corner.
As soon as they sat, however, Angel’s joy vanished. In its place cold fear edged just under his his skin as he realized he was trapped. Sheila was on his right, there was a wall behind, him, a glass window on his left, and the table completed the box in front.
Across the table he had a clear view of David and his own octopus, Cordelia. From the moment she sat down, she appeared to be attached to his hip. There wasn’t a sliver of light peeking between their bodies. At least her head isn’t on his…damn…there it went. Her cheek rested on his shoulder and from the angle her arm draped across her body he knew her hand had to be sliding up and down his thigh.
**You realize, of course, he will have to be flayed and Cordy will have to be severely punished. I’m thinking nipple clamps and ice.**
That’s a start.
**Glad to hear you’ve finally come to your senses.**
**…**
**So? What are we waiting for? The kitchen is full of sharp knives and Nabbit’s puny enough to fit on this table. Let’s do it!**
“Mr. Angel? I said do you want some champagne now?”
At the sound of Ramon’s accented voice Angel sucked the drool that was about to seep through his lips and pulled back the fangs that had slowly begun leaching out. He drew his eyes from the clingy couple in front of him to the blessed friendly face of his host.
“I guess, sure. Sheila? Would you like some champagne?” he asked deciding he could at least be polite and finally break the wall of silence he'd built between them on the ride over.
**That’s smart. Get her drunk so she can yap even louder and make even less sense. When we get that knife, her tongue is coming out first.**
“Ooooo, that would be wonderful. I love all the bubbles.” Her voice squeaked and Angel heard Cordy give her own squeak in response. He turned in time to see her hand cover the derisive grin he knew she was hiding.
The flame of anger lit in his gut. It was bad enough he had to be there to witness Cordy in the process of falling in love with another man, but he wasn't about to sit back and let her make fun of him in the process.
“Cordy, champagne? Oh, no. That’s right. All those bubbles give you a headache, don’t they? Only three glasses, Ramon. Thank you.” Angel’s eyes never left Cordy’s as he spoke.
She brought her hand down and the smirking lips were now angry pursed ones. “Humph. We’ll need four glasses, thank you. I adore champagne. I think you’ve confused me with one of your other bubble heads, Angel.”
**When she's right she's right. Darla was a ditz and I don't know what layer of the atmosphere that Slayer floated around in. And then there was Drusilla. Damn, I love this bitch!**
Angel struggled to keep a smile from erupting on his face at his demon's declaration – the rare time he couldn't disagree. However, there was no way he would admit to Cordy she was right and, besides, he wanted to keep talking to her and her alone.
"Oh? Could be. You do have that look.” At any other time Angel would have ducked by now. Fortunately for him, Cordy’s only weapon was a napkin in the shape of a fan.
“Ow!” And her pointed shoe of death which he’d forgotten about. He mentally thanked God that she didn’t have two of them at the moment. He just knew his shin was permanently dented even as he bent over and desperately tried to rub it out.
Sheila wrapped one arm around his shoulder and cupped his cheek with the other hand. “What’s wrong? Did you get a cramp?”
“You might say that. It was definitely a pain,” he said as he glared at Cordy.
She sneered back and almost stuck out her tongue but remembered at the last moment she was in a posh restaurant and drew the tip back in.
Sheila leaned in closer but didn’t bother whispering to say, “I can take care of that later. I give a really deep, hard, relaxing massage.”
Angel stopped rubbing his leg and turned to look into Sheila’s winking left eye and wiggling eyebrows. He was dumbfounded by her aggressiveness and didn’t know whether to laugh hysterically or cry for his mommy. Instead he just stared with his mouth open until Sheila pushed his chin up and closed it for him.
She began to lean in further in an obvious attempt to attach her lips to his. Angel softly whimpered but was frozen. Only his eyes could move and they shot to Cordy’s.
Cordy looked as flabbergasted as he felt. He let out a trapped breath when it registered that she was far more experienced deflecting unwanted advances than he and her eyes telegraphed her decision to help. Picking up one of the menus Ramon had left, she shoved it between Sheila’s face and Angel’s and said, “Sheila, have you looked at the menu yet? I’m starving. Let’s decide what we want. Wow, everything looks delicious. Here, Angel, take a menu.”
Angel reached for it and his fingers brushed and then held onto hers for a second in gratitude.
Thankyouthankyouthankyou. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou.
**You are so fucking retarded.**
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Oh, Sheila
Well, you came and I wanted to kill ya
And I think that I will
Oh, Sheila
If Manilow were dead, he’d be doing a one-eighty in his grave, but Angel couldn’t afford to be picky or respectful. He was willing to think of anything, including desecrating his beloved “Mandy,” to block out the incessant chatter emanating from his blonde, buxom companion.
He couldn’t believe Cordy and David were actually glued to her every word. Even the conversation he was having with his demon about song selection was more pleasant than listening to Sheila drone on about mandrake root and its importance to the beauty and health industry. He didn’t want to think what that might have to do with computer technology and a possible merger with David Nabbit’s company.
Prior to resorting to his inner karaoke, he had managed to zone her out completely by conjuring a particularly vivid memory from the night spent in the elevator with a naked Cordy in his arms. He silently thanked his luck for being blessed with total recall at times like these.
The sound of Sheila’s annoying voice slowly faded until it was just a hum of white noise. The soft glow of the restaurant became the brightly reflected light of the elevator in the mirrors surrounding them as they lay entwined on the compartment floor. Angel narrowed his eyes at the new, harsher vision and then opened them wide again so he wouldn’t miss a moment.
On his tongue the taste of her tangy skin was as strong as it was that night as he sipped his way from her ear, down her swan-like neck to her soft shoulder. He couldn’t stop his stomach trembling from the insistent pulse of her racing heart beating against his flattened tongue as he lapped at his mark scenting her again.
He distinctly heard her gasp and felt her shiver in the hand that had cupped her breast gently. His palm itched and he slid it off the table to his lap to hide his fingers flexing as he imagined how her nipple felt rising to meet the pad of his thumb. The same thumb that had touched her so long ago as a whisper touches air.
He struggled to keep his eyes open as he remembered the puckering of her velvet skin, the rigid peak dancing in and out of his grasp as her breasts heaved, and the sound of her need rumbling in her throat against his mouth. He inwardly sighed as he relived the moment his head left her neck slowly covering the swell of her flesh with delicate kisses.
Her excited hiss was so loud in his mind that he jerked slightly and then reveled in the memory of his lips surrounding the dark patch of pebbled skin and sucking.
Thin, strong fingers dug painfully into his scalp and pulled him urgently into her bosom. The contrast between her hard wrenching need and the soft breasts pillowing his fall caused his thighs to clench to capture the jolt of renewed desire racing there.
He quaked with the memory of her voice echoing his name in a desperate plea, a sound so entrancing that nothing could sate the vicious hunger it induced except his mouth tugging, his teeth nipping and his tongue laving her plump flesh in a frenzy.
He could swear red welts appeared on his back again as her ghostly nails scraped up his spine and clasped suddenly when his mouth released one breast to feast on the other. She expelled a cry to the Lord which only made him wish for once that he was that holy being.
Under the table his cock was hard and it took every ounce of willpower he had to resist moving his hand to his zipper to offer it manual release.
Instead he squirmed in his chair as he recalled rubbing furiously against her silky thigh and ached to do so once more. He felt his fingers moving along his inner thigh mimicking the moment his hand guided hers from his scalp to his shaft. She had felt like molten iron fisting and stroking him until he had to relinquish her breast to groan in ecstasy.
That’s when he realized he’d blown it. A disappointed, “Angel,” from Cordy brought him quickly from his daze. He knew at that moment that he must have groaned out loud and apparently at just the wrong place in Sheila’s story. Everyone was staring at him like he’d just killed a baby.
Fortunately, he was not only the master of dumb planning but dumb acting as well and was convincingly able to claim an adverse reaction to the champagne bubbles. Cordy gave him a quizzical look, obviously not believing him for a second, but she didn’t push it for once.
Between his throbbing hard-on and the odd looks Cordy was giving him, he had decided he’d better not have any more sexy daydreams. That’s when the singing in his head started.
In any case he was grateful for the fact that their conversation (or more aptly Sheila's monologue) had somehow managed to keep Cordy’s hands and body to herself. Not having to witness her cooing over David allowed him to concentrate on planning Sheila’s vicious murder with his demon to the tunes of popular songs.
**For fuck’s sake. At least think of a good song. Like…“War, huh! Good God, y’all. What is it good for? Blowing Sheila’s ass apart.” Now that’s a song!**
Not bad. I wish I could think of something disgusting that rhymes with Copacabana. I’m in the mood for a little Latin beat maiming.
**How about something from “West Side Story?”**
Broadway show tunes? Angelus! Are you a little gay?
**Gay, straight…what’s the difference? A fuck’s a fuck. Speaking of which, after we dumb this bitch’s body, I say we drive by Cordy’s place and jog her memory a little. Show her what a real man can do with a real cock. The manacles are in the trunk.**
Again Angel’s imagined vocalization turned out to be quite a noisy growl.
“Oooo, you must really like shrimp!”
His glazed eyes focused on the pair of pale blue ones that had suddenly blocked his view of the entire restaurant. At his mouth Sheila’s overly red, overly glossy nails clutched a jumbo shrimp dripping in cocktail sauce that she was about to stuff between his lips.
Angel froze once again. Somewhere behind her overly processed head he knew Cordelia was watching because he heard her snigger.
**That’s it! No one tries to feed me like some motherfuckin’ baby and in front of my woman! This horse’s ass is glue.**
Angel grabbed her wrist and pushed her hand, offending shrimp and her body away. He struggled to keep his grip firm but not tight enough to crush the bones in spite of his demon’s urgings.
“No, thanks. I’m allergic to shellfish. Isn’t that right, Cordelia?” He glared at her smiling face, the twinkle in her eyes shouting just how much she was enjoying his torment.
“Um, no, I think that would be snails that you’re allergic to. You looovvveeee shrimp as I recall.” She winked.
Sheila’s shrimpy hand headed back toward his mouth but he blocked it just in time. He gave her a polite smile and then returned his outraged stare to Cordy.
“Gee, Cordy, are you trying to kill me? It IS shrimp that I’m allergic to. Remember? That time I rescued you from those religious fanatics in that…country…far, far away…and there was only shrimp there to eat and I almost died…you know…rescuing YOU!” By the time he finished reminding her how much she owed him his lips were stretched so tightly that he thought he heard them crack.
Cordy granted him a momentary reprieve. “Oh, that shrimp! Sure, now I remember. He’s right, Sheila. He is allergic to shrimp. One taste and he stops breathing and turns blue. Make that more blue.”
Angel pursed his lips and glared only to receive a mocking blown kiss and smirk from Cordy.
“I’m so sorry, Angel. I didn’t know.” Sheila put the shrimp back on her plate and brought her napkin to his chin to wipe off the smudge of sauce she’d left there.
Angel rolled his eyes and Cordy made a motorboat noise with her lips trying to stifle the laugh she so wanted to just let loose.
“Ah, isn’t that sweet, David?” Cordy wrapped her arm through her date’s and put her head on his shoulder sighing.
Under the table Angel’s fingers curled around the seat of his chair as he fought back the need to rip Cordy from David’s side. The opposing desires to stake his claim and kill her for putting him through this were taking their toll on the flimsy wood splitting under his fists’ pressure.
“I think Sheila is going to take really good care of Angel. We don’t have to worry about leaving them alone after all.” Cordy graced David with her widest smile.
That’s my smile! She’s giving him my…
Suddenly it sunk in what she’d said. “Huh? Leave who alone?” Angel started to choke on his tongue, and he felt a splinter dig into his left palm.
David turned to look down at Cordy’s upturned face. “I think you’re right. That is if it’s okay with you, Sheila. We can always talk business tomorrow.”
“Oh, I have no objections.” Sheila scooted her seat closer to Angel’s and tripped her nails lightly up his arm. He shivered at the contact and tore his fear-laced gaze from the torment of Cordy touching David to the clawing man-eater beside him.
“A girl would have to be crazy to want to talk business when she’s in the company of such a fine specimen as Angel.” She licked her lips, moaned and before he knew what was happening her mouth was making wet noises on his neck.
Holy shit!
Angel jerked forward and as far from her sucking lips as possible and almost turned over the table in the process. Silverware tumbled to the floor, plates rattled and Angel’s champagne glass fell toward him. He felt the crotch of his trousers become cold and wet.
Sheila reached for her napkin. “Don’t worry I know just what to do to keep that from staining.” Dipping the tip of the napkin in her ice water, she brought the cloth towards him.
Angel realized instantly where she was going with it and he had no intention of letting her use this as an excuse to fondle him.
“No, no! That’s okay. I can take care of it.” He held his hands over his crotch defensively as he got up. “I’ll just get Ramon to give me some soda water and head for the restroom. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He squeezed behind Sheila’s chair sucking in every part of his body to try to avoid contact with her. She didn’t help matters by leaning back and trying to rub herself on him as he passed. The moment he was away from the table he bolted for the safety of the back of the restaurant and the restroom he knew to be there.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Cordelia watched Angel’s mad dash from the table and had to choke back the satisfied snicker gurgling in her throat. Her plan was working far better than she’d hoped. He hadn’t exactly lost it and confessed his love yet, but he was definitely on the other side of the fault line that would split his world apart very soon.
That groan and growl had nothing to do with champagne or shrimp and everything to do with Angel in the throws of passion. She’d felt and heard those exact sounds from him many times and they were like a mating call to her. She knew he had been sitting there imagining them together and if it hadn’t been for the cold liquid in the crotch, she was pretty sure he would have whisked her away from that table and sequestered them in his room by now.
Of course she had to give credit where credit was due. Sheila was the perfect woman to drive Angel into her arms. And she knew that in many ways Angel felt inferior to David. The pride he took in getting them this reservation when David couldn’t was evidence enough of that.
She felt awash with gratitude to these people and had to express it. She leaned into David, winding her arm through his and squeezed.
“Thank you for doing this, David. I think Vesuvius is about to blow and it wouldn’t have happened without your help.” She kissed his cheek and smiled.
David blushed and simply patted her hand.
Turning to Sheila, she said, “And you! Wow! You are amazing. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you really had the major hots for Angel. Thanks for doing this.”
“No, thank you,” Sheila said brightly. “Angel’s the hottest thing I’ve seen in ages. I really get off on the strong, silent vibe he’s got going. And those little growly sounds he makes. Whoo! I just about melted into one big Sheila-shaped puddle right here. Besides, in my experience the quiet ones are always animals in bed, and I can’t wait to ride this pony. ”
Cordy’s bright face clouded over in confusion and then disgust. “P-p-ony. You want to ride his…” She slapped a false grin on her face to rescue the awkward moment. “Of course you do. Who wouldn’t want to, uh, ride that…that…David!” she screamed right into his ear.
David’s entire body jerked at her screech and he could not bring himself to look at her. She coughed, muttered an “excuse me” to Sheila, and then leaned in and whispered, “Is there something you forgot to tell me…or maybe Sheila?”
David still couldn’t look at her, but mumbled sideways, “Uh, I may have left out the part about this being…um…you know…fake…when I, uh…”
Cordy didn’t need to hear any more. The woman across from her was serious. She wasn’t playing bimbo ho from hell trolling for some fresh man meat, she really was one. And the meat Sheila had a taste for belonged to her, damn it!
She’d deal with David’s little fumble and delicate feelings later. Right now she had to put her stiletto through some seriously wrong ideas before Angel got back. She thought about just telling Sheila the truth. Fake date, make him jealous, yada yada yada, mine-mine-mine, aren’t I just the cutest thing. But, she figured that would only embarrass her and force her to leave and, unfortunately, she still needed Sheila for a little while longer. So she decided to go for the only other option she had. Lying.
Straightening up and away from her incompetent conspirator, she let out a little nervous laugh and cleared her throat. “Sheila. You know there’s something you need to know about Angel and the whole pony situation.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Coming from around a corner, Angel heard Cordy say his name. His pants still damp even after the hot hand dryer almost melted his manhood in the restroom, he wasn’t too anxious to get back to being trapped with Sheila. Taking any excuse he could get, he decided to hold back out of sight and listen to see what Cordy might have to say about him.
“He may look like a good ride, but in reality his little pony will never make it out of the shoot,” the love of his life said. He may be from the Eighteenth Century but it didn’t take him long to figure out what “little pony” she was talking about and get instantly offended by the size reference.
He then heard Sheila ask confused, “What do you mean?” Then there was an intake of air as the light dawned. “Oh! Does he have some kind of erectile dysfunction?”
**What the fuck? Erectile dysfunction this, bitch!**
Shh, I want to hear this.
He recognized immediately the false commiserating tone in Cordy’s voice. “Sadly it’s true. He had an unfortunate accident with the pointy end of a bayonet in the Gulf War. One minute he’s all Bruce Willis in Die Hard and the next Pee-wee Herman in Pee-wee’s Not So Fun House.”
Sheila gasped and Angel fumed.
“Yeah, it’s not like he wouldn’t want to, but ya know, damaged equipment and all.” He could picture Cordy nodding sadly at the injustice of it all overacting her evil heart out.
“Poor, poor guy,” Sheila said. “That’s just tragic on so many levels. For him and for me. Darn it. I really had high hopes for later on.”
If Angel were human, he’d be beet red. His jaw clamped tightly and worked furiously grinding his teeth so loudly that a couple at a nearby table jumped at the sound.
Pee-wee Herman my ass. How dare she! She gets to be happy but I don’t? What right does she have to try and sabotage my life? So what if Sheila’s not my ideal woman? What gives her the right to decide that for me?
**Usually I don’t agree with you on anything. But I’ve gotta say, I like your thinking right now.**
Then you’re going to love this.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Angel bounded from around the corner with the biggest, most maniacal grin Cordy had seen since her last episode with Angelus. Then right before her eyes it changed from wicked to sexy and he flashed it straight at Sheila.
“I’m back.” He bent down, his face within inches of Sheila’s, his smile radiating enough heat to light up Santa Monica, and he ran one finger from her forehead to the tip of her nose saying, “Did you miss me?”
Sheila was lost in his gaze and sighed.
“Mmmm, thought so. How about dessert?” He said “dessert” with just enough lechery in his voice to make every woman’s heart within hearing range skip a beat.
Cordy’s heart was no exception. What the hell is he doing? He doesn’t like her. He can’t like her! She’s not me! You’re in love with me, dumb ass. You want dessert with me! Hello? Woman you love sitting right here.
Her foot went out to make a dent in his other shin, but he moved just before it connected.
“Ramon,” Angel called and gestured for their host to join them. When he reached his side, Angel said, “I think we’re ready for dessert.”
“Certainly, Mr. Angel. I’ll be right back with the cart.”
As Ramon left, Angel began to squeeze behind Sheila toward his seat. This time, however, he didn’t try to avoid her touch. His fingertips glided up her bare arm and came to rest on her shoulder where he gently squeezed in a sensual preview of massages to come. Sheila lolled her head back as his hand slid behind her neck tickling her sensitive nerves there and giving him a wonderful view of her impressive chest. As he sat down, his hand lazily trailed across her other shoulder and down the now raised hairs on her arm. Once seated, he scooted his chair closer to her and allowed his arm to retrace its path around her shoulders so that it draped her and she rested against his chest.
Cordy was exhausted from watching Angel’s seduction. It was disturbing to observe him try to work his charm on another woman but at the same time it reminded her of their moments together and the feel of his fingers on her skin. The cold that felt like flame, the marble smooth texture that slid along her skin as if on ice. She felt the goose bumps glide over her body and the shivering jogged her back into reality just in time to hear Angel’s voice drop a few octaves. Her chin fell and her stomach churned as she listened to him make clear what his plans would be for the evening.
“Just say the word and we can let David and Cordy have some time alone over dessert while we make our own at my place.” He leaned into her ear and whispered something Cordy couldn’t hear. Judging by Sheila’s flushed face and instantly erect nipples, she surmised he wasn’t sharing his brownie recipe.
Cordy panicked.
Immediately her hands slapped loudly against her temples. Her face scrunched up and low mewling sounds which turned into much too loud groans of agony burbled from her throat. She slumped down in her chair, tossed her head back and forth and made sure her good foot flailed and connected with his leg for good measure.
“Oh, no! Angel…must help…children…tiny babies even…big monster demon…smelly….slimy…ewww! Must go now!” She peeked between slatted eyes to make sure Angel saw her considering he hadn’t immediately jumped up to catch her like he should have done.
David on the other hand held her in his arms and seemed genuinely fearful for her safety and the safety of those in her vision.
“Are you all right, Cordy? What can I do? Should we call for some back up?” David’s eyes went from the trembling woman in his arms to the nonplussed face of Angel for answers.
“I think I can handle this one, David,” Angel said calmly unable to hide the satisfied smirk from his expression.
“Monster demons? Slime? What the hell is she talking about and what’s up with the drool?” Sheila asked.
Angel patted her shoulder and reassured her saying, “Cordy has episodes. Her brain just short circuits sometimes and we never know what’s going to pop out of her mouth. She just needs a little fresh air and some of that medicine they give to crazy people. I know what to do. Excuse us for a minute.”
He was around the table and pulling Cordy out of her seat in an instant. She struggled to keep up with him, hobbling as best she could as he led her out the front door to the sidewalk.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Once he reached a somewhat private spot, he spun around to confront her. He never got the tirade he had planned out of his mouth and almost laughed instead. She was livid. Her cheeks were puffed out, her hands gripped her hips, her hair that had tumbled lose during her fake vision was flying all around her face and she periodically blew at strands that got in her way.
“You know, Cordy, I really thought those acting classes were working, but that was a worse fake vision than the Rebecca Lowell one. And that one stunk.”
“Ha, ha, it is to laugh. I always appreciate your critiques of my acting ability. Speaking of which, are you going for the Oscar in there? What the hell are you doing?”
“Doing?” Angel asked innocently.
“Drooling over Miss 44 double E of 2003 whom you’ve just met. Don’t you ever get tired of the smell of peroxide in the morning? It’s disgusting. How could you?” He thought he heard a slight hitch in her voice. Almost as if she was jealous.
“What do you mean how could I? I’m just doing what you asked - trying to give you and David time alone. Isn’t that what you wanted?” As difficult as it was for him to say those words, he didn’t want this argument over too quickly. He was having a good time watching her try to talk him out of having sex with another woman. His ego had taken a good beating lately and having her ranting in the streets about his drooling was just the boost he needed.
“Well, sure, kinda. But it’s not right for you to lead her on like that. Hadn’t you noticed she’s a little on the bimbo side of the bell curve?”
He winced at her words. He hadn’t really thought about what his flirting was doing to Sheila. But she didn’t seem to be the helpless type to him. More of a barracuda. He decided she could take care of herself.
“You think?” he asked. “I think she’s just a little naïve and sweet. Besides, I haven’t…you know…had any fun in quite a while. And Sheila seems to be pretty willing in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“A deaf and blind man with no map could have figured that out. That’s not the point. The point is you can’t.” Her lower lip fell into its well-known pout position.
“Why can’t I?” Angel was sure she’d just whined. Not a typical I-want-this-now kind of whine, but an I’m-hurting-and-I-need-you-to-fix-it whine. That lower lip of hers, glistening and plump in the moonlight certainly contributed to his interpretation. Yes, he decided, he was getting really good at pretending she cares.
“Besides the curse possibly kicking in, you’d be using her. Girls have a tendency to equate sex with love, Angel. It may just be a romp in the hay for you, but she could fall hard and fast. Trust me, you’re not the kind of guy a girl can just sleep with and call it a night.”
“I’m not? How would you know?” He felt himself actually bounce. Maybe I’m not delusional. Maybe she’s remembering or at least remembering feelings. Maybe seeing me with another woman was the trigger.
When she didn’t answer him, he began to get impatient to see if his theory was accurate.
“Cordy? I said how would you know? Do you…are you maybe remembering something?” He stepped forward reaching toward her ready to take her in his embrace as soon as she said the words.
She stepped back blinking wildly with a hand up to ward him off. She turned sideways averting her eyes.
“I...I don’t know obviously. Geez, Angel, have you seen yourself? You’re tall and handsome and dark-haired with those bedroom eyes and all hero-y. What’s not to love? At least at first sight. Once a girl gets to know you, you tend to slip down a few notches on the perfection scale with the blood sucking, brooding and that whole being a corpse thing.”
Angel’s dreams crashed around him. The sound of his heart not beating was deafening. Then his devastation turned on a dime and he felt his blood heating and coursing through his veins at the insults she had just levied.
“Yeah, well, maybe some women would find that exciting and different. You have to admit I’m one of a kind, sweetheart.”
“Pfft. Unique does not necessarily mean special. Look at Ziegfried and Roy or Vanilla Ice. Angel, please. Don’t do this. For me?”
There was that lip and whine again. He hated and loved her so damn much. As much as he wanted to make a stand and teach the memory-challenged Cordy in front of him a lesson about his life and what she had no say in, he couldn’t stand hurting her. He knew this Cordy wasn’t truly being hurt by the thought of him sleeping with Sheila. She’d made it clear she was only concerned about Sheila’s feelings. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it because inside this Cordy was his Cordy - the one that remembered everything and loved him as much as he loved her. Some day his Cordy could come back to him, and he never wanted to say he was sorry or lose her because of his stubbornness and stupidity again.
“Fine,” he said. “But what am I supposed to do with her? Don’t you want to be alone with David?” He hoped she didn’t hear the resentment that was so clearly evident to his ears in that question.
He watched a myriad of emotions cross her face as she made up her mind how to respond. He was sure he saw disappointment and resignation and her next words confirmed at least part of that reading.
“Let’s just go back in, order dessert and call it a night. I’m getting tired. Maybe I shouldn’t be trying to date with a bum leg. It’s too much effort.”
Cordy had turned and was walking toward the restaurant entrance when Angel finally processed what she’d just said. He leaped to catch up with her.
“Does that mean you won’t be seeing David any more?” He didn’t even try to hide the glee from his voice. Luckily he was behind her so she couldn’t see the huge grin covering his face.
“I don’t know. I’m too tired to think straight. Maybe later, who knows.”
**Damned if I know how you managed not to fuck that up too badly.**
Admit it. That was good. I got Cordy away from David and us away from that she-devil without spilling one drop of blood.
**And that’s supposed to impress me? Why do I have to keep reminding you that I actually like to kill things? Besides I still don’t see Cordy’s mouth on my cock doing that twirly thing with her tongue that just about blows the top of my head off. How good can you be?**
Angel inwardly sighed at his demon’s impatience. For now, he was satisfied. He could wait as long as he knew there was a chance. He could have the patience of Job if it meant in the end Cordy – his Cordy - would be waiting.
But she wouldn’t be waiting. In his exuberance at trying to beat her at her own game, he’d forgotten his Cordy was most likely never coming back. He’d forgotten his decision to let her go even if she did return so she could be happy with someone not anything like him. He’d forgotten he’d already lost her.
In a split second one of the happiest moments he’d experienced in a long while had turned overwhelmingly sad. He couldn’t look at the woman who was the cause of his greatest joy and deepest sorrow as he took her arm to help her walk back to the table. However, if the crestfallen man had looked closely at that woman, he would have seen a troubled countenance that mirrored his own - one that couldn’t hide its grief and acceptance of defeat.
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