Title: F*** Buddies
Author: DamnSkippy
Posted: 04-27-2005
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:

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Chapter 14

Cordy stared at her toes. The big toe on her left foot was fatter than the other one. She couldn't decide if she should exercise the right one to bulk it up or put the left one on a diet.

Ever since the cast had come off her right leg a week ago, she’d had this toe dilemma. Of course it wasn’t the only dilemma she had, but it kept her mind off the bigger one. The Angel-sized one. So, back to the toes…

She could only assume it was because her right leg had been wrapped in plaster for six weeks and the toe had shrunken from inactivity. She’d never noticed a defective toe before then, and what were the chances *she* of all people would have a genetically imperfect toe? It had to be the cast. Satisfied she’d made the right diagnosis, she gave her digit a mental pep talk.

Inactive toe – meet your new workout routine.

She began to slip her feet from her fashionable Jimmy Choo slides that she just adored. She had them picked out a month before the cast came off, and as soon as it had she had flown to the Beverly Center to pick them up – with a side trip home first to shave the jungle of hair that had grown on her formerly cast-covered leg.

And now that she had them, she took every opportunity to revel in the amazing fact she had two feet with shoes on each foot again! That awe was what had led to the discovery of her malformed toe and the soon-to-begin toe Pilates.

Too bad I’m not still sleeping with Angel. He could have sucked my toe until it was as swollen as the other one.

“Stop it,” she chastised. This was exactly the reason she was concentrating on her toes - so she wouldn’t be thinking about Angel and the big black void in her life without him. Oh, he was still there, but not as *there* as she still wanted him to be. Since her last date with David and the Sheila Squid, she was trying on a daily basis to just accept that Angel was never going to be hers. She also recited daily just exactly why that was a good thing.

Repeat after me: noAngelusnoAngelusnoAngelusnoAngelusnoAngelus and no blood sucking wounds to the neck. She didn’t really care about the blood sucking thing, but she figured it was best to have more than one reason to give up the love of her life, however not her own idea it was, and that was the only other thing she could think of. Well, that and any future dental bills a man with two sets of teeth might incur, but she concluded that was probably stretching believability and knocked that one off the list.

Thus, the toe problem came at just the right time giving her something else important to do with her overactive mind.

She freed her feet of the Choos with a slight tug; the bottoms of her feet being damp from resting naked on the leather insoles. When they met the cold marble floor she hissed at the sudden chill and couldn’t stop the image that flashed through her mind of Angel’s cool hands kneading her instep until her entire leg was noodle limp. She stretched her feet and allowed the vision to continue. His even frostier mouth surrounded her digits, his tongue tasting each one for all their subtle differences as his strong hands slid up her calf. While his palms supported her leg, his fingertips tickled her skin with whispery circles.

“Mmm, yes.”

Her eyes jerked open and wildly searched around for possible eavesdroppers. She grabbed the armrest to straighten her slumped body surprised she had slid down in her seat and succumbed to the memory so completely.

When is this going to end?

A weary sigh and loud thud echoed through the deserted lobby as she plopped her elbow on the desk and rested her chin in her propped up hand.

She casually glanced around the wide open space to make sure no one was within sight lines of her toe gymnastics. The only person around was Wesley and he was in his office with his nose in a book. That sight was so typical she had to consciously process he was actually there and not just a wall mural. But he was not in a position to see beneath her desk, and if he’d noticed her semi-wet daydream he hid it well.

Okay, time to take care of skinnytoeitis. No more sexy Angel mouth. I’m all about the toe.

Silently she began to count the number of reps she was performing under the desk. As she slowly bent and then flexed her toe over and over again, the numbers began to slur in her mind and she skipped 12 and went straight to 52. Fifty-three became 68 and before she realized it, her head was no longer in her palm but comfortably nestled in the crook of her arm on the desk and her flexing toe routine morphed into a flexing routine of a completely different nature.

She stretched every muscle in her body, her skin memorizing the feel of Angel’s as he completely but lovingly enveloped her. It felt like they were floating on a thin layer of air that kept all the tiny hairs on her body standing at attention and made the slide of skin against skin smooth and sensual.

His moan, deep and strong, blew through her senses like a ghostly wind gusting through creaking pines sending shivers to her soul. The mountain of his shoulder blanked out the light from the small lamp casting her struggle to keep her secret in shadow. The blackness made the words that wafted across her lobe on the cool breeze of his breath even more chilling.

“Say it, say it.”

She strained to hold the words she longed to say from breaking through her vibrating lips. His mouth hummed against the skin on her jaw nudging her to work the joint and speak. Velvety lips skimmed behind her ear before lazily sliding down to her neck’s pulse that was about to burst through and sing her heart’s secret. Hovering there he groaned, frustrated yet hopeful, and pleaded again with a voice trembling and thick.

“Say it.”

She had to bite her lips to keep from succumbing to this powerful man’s simple prayer; her breath dying in her mouth unable to pass through her clenched jaw. She tasted copper when she bit her tongue to stave off the urge to scream as his mouth circled her nipple. The forbidden utterance he begged to hear was shoved back down her throat where it formed a husky moan.

He responded to her sexy vocalizations by increasing his pace from lazy to frenzied as he flicked repeatedly and then swirled wet circles with his tongue over and over. She shivered and clutched at the valley between the sharp peaks of his shoulder blades pressing him harder, deeper into her breast. As his teeth nipped at the soft flesh of her breast, she gasped, her dry mouth and throat making it impossible to speak even had she the nerve.

Laving the pale mark his teeth left, he moved to bury his nose underneath her breast and licked at the beads of sweat there mewing at the salty tang that covered his tongue.

Goosebumps rose as his mouth slid around and found a ticklish spot on her rib. She jerked and he stayed there, torturing her with his lips and teeth, his mouth hot and breath cool, all the while splaying his hand around her hip and pulling her thigh over his waist.

Trapped beneath the weight of him, her center writhing against the hardness of his pelvic bone, her skin tingling at the feathery touch of his lips, and her muscles clenching from the grasp of his palm on her hip, her world was about to explode. As if he sensed as much, his face lifted to freeze her gaze to his.

Fixed to the liquid, shiny pitch of his eyes, she thought she could fall and never touch bottom. She prayed he wouldn’t ask her again because she knew his voice would push her over the edge into that blissful oblivion.

He drew breath but instead of speaking, he slid his hand around and between her legs and thrust his finger inside her. Only then did his words come as smoothly as his finger fucked her.

“Say it. Say it once.”

She flailed within the bastion of his arms, her spirit ready to flee but her body tethered by a single digit. He stole her breath with each stroke and yet willed her to breathe with his stare. Touching his mouth to her belly, his eyes watched hers as he kissed his way lower burning her skin with his lips as his finger continued its hot licks inside her.

She was in hell and about to ascend into heaven. With each touch, she fell further under his spell. He repeated his mantra, “Say it, say it, say it,” between kisses and plunges until he reached her clit. She watched as the tip of his tongue fluttered against it and felt his finger grind into the sensitive spot inside her and her resolve imploded.

Arching high, her back left solid ground and her fingers clutched and clung to his soft hair as she screamed what he’d waited forever to hear.

“I love you!”

Startled from her dream by the sound of her own voice shouting the words she’d kept caged within her breast for months, Cordy jerked up, her mouth open and panting, with the feel of cool saliva trickling down her chin.

With no thought about how unladylike it was, she wiped away the drool with the back of her hand as she eyed the immediate area around her desk looking for him.

God, please don’t let him be here. Please, please, please.

Her sleep encrusted eyes scanned the cavernous hall. The early afternoon sun warmed the normally cool veins of the marble but the eerie silence chilled the enormous room and Cordy couldn’t stop her shivers. (Thanks, guys, for watching my back while I slept, by the way). Feeling her heartbeat racing, she took a few deep breaths and spread flat both palms on her desk to steady her still trembling body.

“Cordy, are you all right?”

From behind her left ear, Angel’s voice sounded panicked and breathy as if he’d just run a thirty-second mile. When she jumped at the unexpected intrusion, she felt her world begin to tumble backward only to be just as abruptly halted by one of Angel’s arm on the back of her tipping chair and the other crossed over her torso grabbing the opposite armrest.

She blinked a few times to stem the dizziness and finally focused on worried brown eyes only inches from her sleepy, droopy-lidded ones.

“Angel! Wha…what did you hear? I mean why are you here?”

“Your heartbeat…you sounded scared.”

“Oh. Good. I mean good for you, but I’m fine. Just a bad dream. No need for the dramatic rescue routine.”

During her attempt at brushing off his help, Angel had taken a breath and his eyes widened in shock and blatant desire.

**Mmmm, smell that? Our woman was having a wet dream. Why waste all those delicious juices on a dream, babe, when the real thing's right here? What are you waiting for? Stick it to her.**

Maybe if I thought she was dreaming about us, I’d agree with you. Obviously, she’s got someone else to dream about. Probably David Nabbit.

**I told you to slice that little perv up while we had the chance.**

When Cordy realized what he was doing, her words faded into the heady air settling between them and she froze in panic.

Oh, God, he’s scenting me. He knows that I was dreaming about sex. Damn! I have so got to train my inner vamp radar. Maybe I should take a yoga class? Or something else Far Easty involving wind and butterfly wings? Or maybe I’ll just sit here staring into his eyes like a lovesick schoolgirl and watch his mouth move because those lips are so worth missing lunch for and, oh look, his tongue is in there and it looks yummy. It tastes pretty damn good, too, as I recall. Very soft but strong and my, my, it’s so long. Ah, look, he’s smiling. He’s so cute when he smiles. His cheeks dimple up just a little and his eyes get a little scrunchy, and then he’s laughing and…and…wait a minute. What is he laughing at?

“What are you laughing at?”

“You.”

Oh, crap, did I just lick my lips when I was thinking about his tongue? Did I say that out loud? Oh, crappity, crap, crap!

“Me? Uh, what did I do?”

“Okay, not you exactly. More like what’s stuck to your forehead.”

Angel righted the chair, planting all four wheels firmly on the floor once again. Releasing the armrest, he brought his left hand up to pluck the post-it from its sticky perch on her hairline.

“Ow,” she said as Angel pulled a few hairs along with it.

“Sorry. Hmm. I believe it’s a message from your boss.” Sitting back on her desk, he straightened his spine in mock imitation of Wesley before reading the note to her.

“Cordelia, if you insist on sleeping on the job, at least have the courtesy not to snore and disturb the rest of us who are actually working for a living.”

“Let me see that.” Cordy snatched the note from Angel. “Humph. It does not say that. It says he’s gone to the magic shop for some stinky herbs. And I do not snore. I breathe daintily like a lady.”

“Like a lady with a deviated septum. Cordy, I’ve heard you snore and there’s nothing dainty about it.”

“What would you know about it?”

Angel’s mouth tightened into a sly grin and his eyes narrowed. There was a glint of dare in them that suddenly dimmed to a dull ache as his lips slackened and the ends bent down.

**Go ahead, chicken boy. Tell her the last time you heard that foghorn of hers. Was it the elevator after I’d tasted her for the third time? Or was it before that, in that hotel room with the satin sheets? Been so long, you’ve forgotten, haven’t you?**

I haven’t forgotten. That’s the problem.

Cordy watched the moment of memory wind across his expressive features and then his struggle to decide whether or not to say something. She sighed silently when the battle was over unsure whether she was happy or glad he wasn’t going to remind her of their time in bed together.

Today’s bout of indecision was brought to you by sleep deprivation and hunger. On your guilt shelves in December. She couldn’t make up her mind any more than Angel could, and it was driving them both insane. One minute she wanted to run into his arms and kiss every inch of his face all the while telling him she loved him and apologize for being so stupid as to keep this secret. Then the next she was positive it was better this way. There was nothing to fear, no risks for anyone to take, and no one to get hurt as long as they stayed just friends. Except both of them hurt every day. Silently and alone.

And it was beginning to show. It seemed every day since the Sheila debacle, the two of them butted heads on everything. Knowing the reason why they were tap dancing around each other didn’t stop them from doing it. She was beginning to wonder if they could ever work together again.

God, what I wouldn’t give for a refresher on that whole amnesia thing. I wonder if I can get Angel so mad he’d drive over me in the Plymouth?

No, she decided, that wouldn’t work. He’d never risk denting his precious baby, and she wasn’t referring to herself in this case. She inwardly groaned and decided it was time for round one to begin. No use putting off the inevitable.

“Well, Angel. Are you going to answer me or not? What do you know about my snoring which, of course, doesn’t exist.”

Angel got up and stumbled backward, the very picture of a man caught thinking impure thoughts. “I…uh…hear you almost every day. You know, if you’re going to keep falling asleep at your desk, it would probably be more efficient to just move the business to your bedroom.”

He stopped in his tracks and quickly turned his back to Cordy. She watched his head snap back and forth and imagined he was chastising himself for the bedroom comment. A part of her wanted to laugh, another part wanted to hug him for being so cute, and yet another wanted to scream at him to just say it! Just get it over with. Tell me I’m hot and you want to do all kinds of nasty things to me.

But she knew he wouldn’t do it and that royally pissed her off. Every day her love got all mixed up with anger at the man for not stepping up to plate and saying what he felt. But every day she also became more disgusted with herself for keeping the lie about her returned memory going and the verbal boxing they were doing was extremely tiring.

Today she was exhausted. The lack of sleep caused by the incessant sex dreams along with her inability to stop thinking about Angel all the time made getting actual rest nearly impossible. The insomnia had been piling up for weeks, and she’d finally reached her limit.

So rather than carry through with antagonizing Angel as she normally would, she decided to try for once to let him off the hook.

“My bedroom, huh? Well, why not? It’s not like there’s any other kind of business going on in there.”

Her eyes widened as she realized she’d just gotten Angel out of the pan and put herself smack dab in the fire.

With Angel staring at her with eyes that would make a Grave’s disease patient proud, his mouth opened as if to speak and immediately snapped shut. He repeated that action several times before Cordy’s patience ran out.

“Don’t strain yourself, big guy. It’s not like my love life or lack thereof is any big secret around here.”

**Don’t be sad, baby. Bring those luscious tits over here and let daddy Angelus lick that dry spell away.**

“Got that right, Barbie.”

Angel gulped, not to swallow the retort to his demon’s crudeness but to strangle the hearty “hell yeah” from bursting out. Luckily, Gunn’s well-timed entrance distracted Cordy from his obvious bobbing Adam’s apple.

“We heard enough about the amazing Mr. Nabbit to last a lifetime. Wouldn’t you say so?” Gunn’s stare did nothing to shake Angel who was still trying to recover from the image of Cordelia’s breasts wet from the tongue bath he’d just given her.

When Angel didn’t immediately answer him, Gunn loudly dropped the axe he’d brought in from his truck on the counter. The noise jostled the day-dreaming manpire from his reverie.

“Huh – what?”

“I said little Miss Pity Party’s love life was hot news for awhile there. Learned more about geeky computer guy than I ever wanted to know. Ain’t that right?”

“What computer guy? Oh! You mean Nabbit? Oh, right, David. Well, she did have a tendency to drone on about him. Frankly, I thought it was overkill.”

While Gunn and Angel shared manly, all-knowing grins, Cordy fumed. Oh, no, he did not just go there. Not when I gave him a pass on recriminations for the day.

“What? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asked.

Angel only smiled because he loved the flame that engulfed her cheeks when he made her angry. Also, getting in a few digs about the ill-fated Nabbit affair was something he loved to do, and he’d been doing it more than he should since her last date with him.

When Cordy had said dating was too hard while still in the cast, he had been ecstatic but cautious. She could very easily have changed her mind once she slept on the matter. However, three weeks and one cast removed later, and she hadn’t mentioned getting back on the David horse yet. He hoped his constant digs about the tiny millionaire would make her think twice about starting up again now that she was almost back to full health. The term "backfire" probably had his picture next to it as the number one definition, unfortunately, so he wasn’t holding his breath - so to speak.

“Well, Cordy, we all knew it had been a long time since you’d actually dated anyone, so we didn’t want to say anything to spoil your enthusiasm. But you really did yammer on and on about his cars and penthouse and the fancy restaurants…”

“I did not yammer about David. Cordelia Chase does not yammer.”

“She’s right, Angel,” Gunn said. “She didn’t yammer. Dating the queen of all things yammer myself, I can verify that what Cordy did was not yammering. It was annoying and boring, but not officially up to yammering speed.”

Angel seemed to ponder this for a second before replying. “So what would you call it then? Chattered, prattled, gabbed…oh, I know! She yakked.” Turning to face a very offended Cordelia, Angel continued enjoying every second of her rising ire. “You, Miss Chase, are a yakker.”

“What?! I never…you don’t know…oh, just shut up!” Crossing her arms, she stared at Gunn daring him to agree. “And you! Why are you even here? Your yammerin’ girlfriend is out doing who knows what with physics, and I haven’t had a vision, so what’s with the axe and your ever-so-helpful presence?”

Gunn held up his hands trying to peacefully back out of the fight that was about to consume the office. He’d been an unwilling witness to far too many between these two of late, hence staying away from the place except when absolutely necessary. It made seeing Fred a little more difficult, but she seemed more than willing to escape the tension and spend time with him at his apartment.

“No need to bite my head off. I’m here to help you, remember? You said you wanted to train. You know, get that leg recertified for kicking evil's booty.”

Her shoulders relaxed and a little of the steam she’d built up was released. “Oh, right. Sorry. I’ll just get changed and join you in the basement.”

Angel couldn't keep the stunned and hurt look from his expression or his voice. “Wait a minute. You’re training with Gunn? Why? You always train with me!”

“It’s no big deal. He was here yesterday morning while you were still doing the coffin routine when I mentioned needing to get back in shape. He offered to help and I said okay.”

“What? I…I don’t do anything with coffins. You know that - and why didn’t you ask me?”

“You were sleeping, duh. Besides, I can decide who I want to train with, and since I yak and apparently annoy you I’d think you’d be grateful for the reprieve. I’ll be back in a minute, Gunn.”

Quirking her brow at Angel, Cordy snapped her head before she turned the rest of her body and vanished into the bathroom to change clothes.

“If you want to train Cordy, it’s no skin off my back,” Gunn said.

Angel’s gaze tried to bore a hole through the door that Cordy had slammed in his face. He didn’t bother turning around to answer Gunn.

“I think Cordy’s made it clear she doesn’t want me. Don’t work her too hard.” In a second he was up the stairs and had escaped to the solitude of his room and a few good hours of brooding.

Gunn watched him storm off and then glanced toward the bathroom door temporarily shielding him from the other stubborn mule.

“Damn, Fred. I hope you’re as smart as I think you are.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Newton's third law of motion
In a system where no external forces are present, every action force is always opposed by an equal and opposite reaction force.

“This is what we have to work with. Two equal and opposed forces constantly actin’ and reactin’ but never movin’ forward. WE will be the external forces to get these stubborn jackasses, pardon my French, to leave the safety and warmth of their antiparticle natures and transform, by means of our own kinda demony particle accelerator, into supercharged electrons bound to one common nucleus of love. It should be pretty easy if you take into consideration…”

“Excuse me, lamby pie, but we mere demon and mortals have no idea what you’re talking about. Could you break that physics mumbo pie chart down into simple apple or cherry and don’t leave off the whip cream?”

Lorne seemed to speak for the others in the currently closed but soon-to-be opened Caritas. On stage, bathed in a soft pink spotlight, Fred stood next to an easel which held a large pad with a colorful, childlike drawing of arrows, swirls, something that looked like a wrecking ball and two stick figures – one man and one woman. She’d just gotten started and already Lorne, Wesley and Gunn were fidgeting.

Ever since Cordy had called off their secret plan to make Angel jealous, Fred had been sinking deeper into a pit of despair watching two friends who’d done so much for her drift further apart. The days and nights in the hotel were spent dodging one volley after another between Angel and Cordy, the two of them so obviously frustrated and lonely but too proud and intractable to admit it. The tension had forced her to retreat into her room or hide out at Charles’s place, and she was pretty sure she was beginning to get an ulcer worrying about them.

The straw that broke her back was two nights earlier. She and Charles had picked up dinner for everyone at City Wok and they had all just finished eating when Angel opened a fortune cookie. Why he did it when he wasn’t even going to eat the darn thing was beyond her, but that didn’t stop him. The fortune was pretty benign - actually it wasn’t a fortune at all. When did they stop putting fortunes in them? Anyway, it was something about today being the perfect day to give that special person a gift.

After he’d finished reading it, all eyes in the room shot to Cordy and then they just as quickly darted from her to stare at their empty plates. Angel caught the movement of the others and even though he wasn’t sure if Cordy had noticed, he didn’t want to take the chance that she had.

So, he made a joke. Lame and pathetic as his always are, but the point was he hurt Cordy in the process. He said, “Lucky there’s nobody special in my life then,” and tried to laugh it off.

Of course, Cordy didn’t just sit there and take it. She came back with, “Lucky for her you mean. Being the skinflint you are, anyone special in your life would be lucky to get a chewed wad of gum out of you.”

Shots fired on both sides and the war was on for the thousandth time. It wasn’t a particularly bloody battle as theirs went, but it gave Fred indigestion and that was pretty difficult to do. She made up her mind as she threw up her Hunan Chicken that this had to stop one way or another. Either they had to tell each other they were in love or they had to admit it wouldn’t work and move on.

Later that night she quietly knocked on Lorne’s door. She knew he was the only other person who was aware that Cordy had regained her memory, and Fred desperately needed a confidante. Surprisingly, he had agreed with her assessment that something needed to be done. She fully expected him to tell her not to interfere and just let fate take its course. The only thing that made him change his typical opinion was the fact that their problems were affecting everyone. Both Angel and Cordy were so unfocused that they might end up unable to help the people who needed them.

Therefore, Lorne had agreed to support Fred in whatever she decided to do. With his nod of approval, Fred began to formulate a plan. Now, two days later, she had told them all to meet at Caritas at 4:00 to discuss the problem of Angel and Cordy. She had expected some resistance or at least raised eyebrows from Wesley, but all he’d said was, “Thank God.” Gunn’s reply was similar only more colorful. Thus, the gang was ensconced in a deserted bar to hear what she had to say. Unfortunately, how she was saying it was the problem.

“Um, well, it’s simple. We all know that Angel and Cordelia love each other, right? I mean that’s not a big secret. We all figured that out months ago, right? I mean all of us except for the two antiparticles in question.” Fred stared at each man with excited and hope-filled eyes.

“So Angel and Cordy are antiparticles?” Gunn asked.

Fred bobbed her head up and down, so Gunn continued.

“And because they’re antiparticles, they don’t want to be around the same nucleus thing which means their love forces are equal and opposite?” he asked not sure he understood a thing he was saying nor anywhere near right but trying to support his girlfriend in her effort to bring science into a totally unscientific situation.

“Well, um, kinda but not exactly,” she said, a warm blush covering her cheeks thankful that her boyfriend was trying to help even if he was totally clueless.

“Fred, I think I understand what you’re saying, but isn’t there a flaw in your theory?” Wes pointed out. “Cordy has amnesia and doesn’t realize she’s in love with Angel, thus the torment we’ve all been going through, but especially Angel, over the past few months.”

Fred looked to Lorne and he gave her a nod and wink confirming their decision to divulge Cordy’s secret.

“Ya see, that’s not entirely true. Cordy sorta got her memory back a long time ago.”

Both Gunn and Wesley shouted at the same time.

“What the fuck?”

“What was she thinking?”

They continued to speak at the same time, both confused and angry at being kept in the dark, until Lorne stood on his chair and hushed them with a sustained high note.

“Okay, kiddies, we get that you’re upset. But the princess swore us both to secrecy and as much as I like you guys, I fear her more. So get over it.” He stepped down, brushed off the purple silk jacket and waved to Fred. “Carry on, sweet pea. I think the boys will behave now.”

Fred was still a little wobbly from hearing the disappointment in her boyfriend’s and boss’s ravings, but she cleared her throat and timidly stepped forward to continue.

“All right then. Like I said, Cordy does remember and she definitely does love Angel. But the reason she hasn’t said anything was because – well it sounds a little silly now – she wanted Angel to fight for her. I mean she wasn’t sure, even though we all know it’s true, that Angel loves her, and all she wanted was for him to just tell her and make her feel she was important to him. That was why she was dating David Nabbit – to make him realize he could lose her and get him to act. But that plan didn’t work obviously and made her even more sure that Angel doesn’t really care about her.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” Wesley interrupted. “Angel is only trying to do what he thinks is best for her. As long as he believes she doesn’t remember anything about their…their…trysts, if you will, then he’s willing to let her find someone else. Lead a normal life.”

“What’s normal around here?” Fred asked, her frustration with Angel’s reasoning apparent. "Besides, Cordy isn’t normal and doesn’t want normal. Angel’s just being stupid.”

“You said it. For someone as old as he is, he can come up with some pretty dumb ideas especially when it comes to women.”

“They’re not dumb, Gunn,” Wesley said. “He just has a difficult time believing that he deserves love much less a life with someone he loves.” Wesley’s stomach acid churned when he once more recognized how familiar his own psychology mirrored a killer vampire’s.

“Well he’s just gonna have to get used to the idea,” Fred stomped her foot to emphasize her determination. “He loves her and she loves him, and we are going to make sure they tell each other before all of us end up killin’ them.”

Lorne’s ruby eyes glistened in admiration. To no one in particular he dreamily sighed, “She’s such a mamma bear when her cubs are threatened. Rwarrrr.”

“Okay, pay attention.” Fred’s voice was strong as she got into her zone. “This is what we’re gonna do. Hold all questions until I’m done.”

The page on the pad was flipped and another picture of childish scrawl was displayed. This one was of a house, some more swirls that could be smoke, and many stick figures - one with fangs - and the two men and a demon looked at each other and grinned. And as Fred pointed to an obvious demon stick with horns and a tail, the plan – code named Taco Run - unfolded like fine silk before the amazed male audience.

The air was redolent with relief and confidence, not just in the pint-sized woman on stage, but in themselves. For the first time in what seemed longer than just months, they were taking charge of the unbearable situation and their lives.

The only hitch in the plan was getting through it without dying by the hands of one of the not-likely-to-appreciate-the-interference love birds…er…mules.



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