just fic


Title: Dick Clark with Extra Cheese
Author: Kelly22
Posted: 01-04-2003
Rating: NC17
Email: Kelly4480@aol.com
Content: C/A
Summary: “Something changed in Cordelia’s face. She quit frowning into her hands and looked up at him. He physically felt the moment when her eyes went all warm. She tilted her head to one side. “You think I’m beautiful?” she asked quietly.”
Spoilers: Absolutely none. We’re talking the good old days of mid-season 3 folks.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: Nothing Fancy, anyone else, just ask.
Notes: This is set BEFORE WITW and Birthday. So visions are still painful, no one (besides Lorne and Angel) is demony, and it's still unclear where Fred's affections lay.
Feedback: Very much appreciated.
Dedication: So this is for Anni, who writes funny, heart-warming, too-rarely smutty stories. Anni, who has publicly called me out twice now for my lack of posting, and frankly, was starting to scare me.


Part 1

Angel’s head whipped around when the door to his room flew open. He’d been caught totally by surprise, too enraptured at watching Connor try to roll over. Ever since he’d become a father, his reflexes had been a little off. Lucky, it isn't a vampire cult out to kidnap the miracle child or Lorne asking my opinion on a Speedo again. It's just Cordelia.

Even as Angel thought that, he was tempted to laugh. “Just Cordelia.” Right. Like Cordelia was “just” anything. Not moving from the easy chair by the crib, he looked her over, taking it all in. She stood in the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob and the other firmly on her hip. She was breathing heavily, so hard that he was momentarily transfixed at the rapid rise and fall of her breasts in the tight black tank top. Then his gaze moved up. To the light sheen of clean sweat on her chest. To the gleaming pinkness of her slightly parted lips. And finally, to the glare of death shooting out of her hazel eyes.

“I am going to kill you,” she announced in a low voice. She probably wanted to scare me. Angel wondered if she knew that that voice did to him. Cordelia happy was a beautiful thing. But Cordy angry, Cordy annoyed, Cordy pissed, that, that was undescribable. Even now, he felt his whole body grow tight as he watched her. Yeah, it's definitely a good thing she doesn't know what that voice does to me. But he did have to wonder, what had he done to make her so pissed?

“How could you Angel? Knowing how important it was to me, how could you? How could you not tell me?” she said. Okay, Angel conceded, maybe she was a little bit scary. Sexy, but scary. Did she find out about the two messages from that guy Paul, the ones that mysteriously disappeared before she'd heard them?

“I thought we were friends,” Cordy went on. “More than friends.” Angel’s eyes went wide. “We’re best friends.” Angel’s eyes went less wide. “You owe it to me to be honest.” Oh God, Angel wondered, what if she’d found those sketches. Sure they're great. Some of my best work. But I doubt Cordelia would appreciate finding naked drawings of her.

“How could you not tell me?” she asked again. She let go of the door and took a faltering step forward. Her voice was less “I’m going to cause your violent death” now and more “I’m going to cry in about thirty seconds if you don’t do something to fix it fast.” He still had no idea how he had so grievously wronged her, but he realized it didn’t matter. He needed to say something. Now.

“I’m sorry?” he offered, in a small, humble voice. Her eyes narrowed, taking on that special glint they got when she was seeing right through whatever he was trying to pull. He quickly stood up. “Okay, I’m not exactly sure what I’m sorry for. But I know that I am sorry. And that it’s entirely my fault. And that whatever it is, we’ll work through it together.” Pausing, Angel took a moment to be proud of himself. That was a speech. That was one hell of a speech.[I] Then the worry hit. [I]What if something is horribly wrong? Is she in trouble with the law? Did an audition go badly? Is she pregnant? Oh God, please don't let her be pregnant. Wait, why would she be mad at me for not telling her that? She would know that way before me. What if she's sick? What if the visions-

Suddenly she was there, right in front of him, hot little breaths hitting his neck like tiny kisses. “How could you not tell me that I got fat?” Cordy hissed. Angel could tell that she really wanted to yell, but was far too aware of the child sleeping peacefully two feet away. “I went and became a heifer and you didn’t think that was something worth mentioning to me!”

Angel couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Thank God there was nothing really wrong. “That’s it?” he asked. “You’re upset because you’re fat.” Even as he said it, Angel knew he’d fucked up. He grimaced as he watched her react to his words. Her perfect lips parted as her mouth fell open into a gasp. Her eyes, shadowed and lined and mascara-ed, went wide. And her nails, with the French manicure that he’d paid for yesterday, came at him.

“Woah, woah,” Angel said, taking a quick step backwards and putting his hands up in front of him to ward off her blows. He’d been attacked by her before. Like all girls, Cordy fights dirty. “That’s not what I meant, that’s not what I meant.” Her hands stopped coming at him, but stayed up in the air. He glanced warily at her nails again.

“That’s not what I meant,” he hurried to explain. “You are not fat. Not fat at all. You, you’re, you’re, uh, your body is…” Angel searched for an acceptable word. Amazing? Fantasy-inducing? Getting me hard as we speak? He was taking too long, he noted, as her hands moved within clawing distance again. “Your body is…proportional.” Seeing that wasn’t enough, he went on. “You look very, you know, nice. I don’t look at you and think fat. No one looks at you and thinks fat. Believe me.” She was believing him. She brought her arms down. He gingerly took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You’re not fat Cordelia,” he told her.

She looked down at the floor and then back up at him, her left hand coming up and touching where he was holding her shoulder. “Sorry Angel. I don’t know why I was yelling at you.”

“You weren’t yelling,” he pointed out.

“I wanted to,” she said, shooting him a look and letting go of his arm. “If there wasn’t a baby sleeping, believe me, there would have been much yelling. Which is ridiculous. It’s not like it’s your fault that I’m the size of a small country.”

Keeping his hands on her shoulders, Angel shuffled her around until they’d switched places and she was the one in front of the easy chair. Then he lightly pushed her down into it and crouched in front of her. “All right, I’m getting tired of this. You know you’re the most beautiful woman in L.A., so just quit.”

Something changed in Cordelia’s face. She quit frowning into her hands and looked up at him. He physically felt the moment her eyes went all warm. She tilted her head to one side. “You think I’m beautiful?” she asked quietly.

Angel was at a loss. Cordy rarely sounded like that. She got compliments all the time and usually they just seemed to bounce off her back. That’s part of the reason he never gave them to her. And because I'm afraid that once I start, I won't be able to stop. Seeing his indecision, Cordy let a small smile escape. The tiny closed mouth smile she reserved strictly for flirting. She never gave him that smile. That wasn’t a best friend smile. He was out of his element.

“Sure you’re beautiful,” he babbled, out of sheer nervousness. “A, uh, beautiful person, you know. You’ve got heart….courage…the whole package.” The light faded from her eyes slowly and Angel wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

“Oh, I thought,” Cordy smiled more out of embarressment than pleasure, “I thought you meant, with the…never mind. Sorry.” She shrugged her shoulders and tried to dissapear into the chair.

Desperate to change the subject, Angel stood back up and asked, “So, what started this all?” It was the right thing to do. Color rushed back into Cordelia’s face as she forgot about his complete lack of social skills and she slipped back into the righteous indignation of two minutes ago.

She also stood up and started to wander around the room, gliding her hands over books and tabletops. Something deep inside Angel, somewhere very near his unbeating heart, something shifted as he watched her walk around the room, looking so very much at home. He struggled to focus on what she was saying.

“There were signs of course. I just must have missed them. There were those Earl Jeans that stopped fitting somewhere around Thanksgiving. Remember, I blamed you for putting them in the dryer instead of letting them air-dry? Oh, and how when I take Connor to the park, or to the mall, or wherever, people always think I’m his mother. For some reason it never occurred to me that they were saying that I looked like I’d just given birth. And then, today…” Cordelia’s voice trailed off, like it was just too painful to describe. She swallowed heavily. “One day before New Year’s Eve, which is like, THE most important night of the year, today, I try on the John Galliano dress I bought back, in like, August, and does it fit?” Angel guessed the answer was no. “No. It doesn’t fit,” Cordy answered before he could. “I don’t fit in my dress and my hair keeps doing this weird flippy thing, and who’s gonna want to kiss a girl like that at midnight?” she whined. She walked back over to where he stood by the crib. “Honestly, would you want to kiss a girl like that, a girl with three chins and flippy hair, would you want to kiss her on New Year’s Eve?”

I want to kiss her right now. For a second, a split-second, Angel was tempted. Tempted to just lean down and take her into his arms and cover her lips with his. And then he would walk her over to the bed and lay her down and cover her body with his.

“You, uh, you don’t have three chins,” he pointed out instead. Something flickered in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was annoyance, or something more. Before he could ask, she shook her head and exhaled loudly and then it was gone.

“It really is kind of your fault, you know,” she told him, but there was no real anger in her voice. The awkward tension from a moment ago was already fading. She was directing them back toward safe, platonic waters.

“Oh really?” Angel asked. “How is that?”

“Oh, Cordy, want me to make you an omelet? I’ll only put ham and bacon and three pounds of extra cheese in. Or, or Oh, Cordy, don’t go to the gym, stay home with me and Connor, you burn enough calories demon hunting. You know, I have to tell you Angel, I think the health benefits of slaying a Kimigali demon are highly exaggerated,” she said, wagging a finger at him.

“Well see, when you avoid the actual slaying and instead you stand next to the wall and yell at me about how I’m doing it all wrong, then sure, you aren’t going to be burning a lot of calories,” Angel said. She giggled. “And you like the extra cheese. You told me next time to use less eggs and MORE cheese.” She actually laughed at that. Then she abruptly stopped.

“Don’t cheer me up. I’m not ready to cheer up yet,” she pouted. “I don’t need you to cheer me up Angel. I need you to make me skinny by this time tomorrow!” Angel drew a blank. They hadn’t trained in a while. He supposed he could offer to do that. “I’m talking drastic measures here.” His mind flashed back to what he’d read in last month’s Cosmo. Which he read for purely professional reasons. He worked with women. He had women clients. They say sex burns more calories an hour than Tae-Bo. Should I offer to have sex with her? She did say she was willing to consider drastic measures. At least sex with him wasn’t as drastic a measure as it once would have been. Not since last week, when Lorne had come upon Angel humming “Silent Night” to Connor and announced that his soul sounded pretty secure. Of course, he hadn’t tested that out yet. But, again, she did say drastic.

"Hello? Earth to Angel? Are you even listening to me?” Cordelia waved her hand in front of his face. “I have a serious problem. In 24 hours I want to be breaking hearts. Not breaking chairs.” Angel wondered if she knew she was breaking his heart a little right now. “I think I even have back fat,” she confided to him. She whipped around so she was facing the door, then looked over her shoulder at him. “Do I have back fat?” Then she crossed her arms in front of her and pulled up her shirt.

Angel’s mouth suddenly went dry. It's no big deal. I've seen millions of women naked. This is just a back. There's nothing sexual about a back. Everybody has a back. But this was Cordy’s back. An acre of warm tan skin covering firm muscles and perfect bones. He followed the line of her spine downwards, until it was met by the sun. He loved that tattoo. It was the only sun he ever got to see, and sometimes, it was almost enough.

Before he could stop himself, before he was even fully aware of what he was doing, Angel took a step toward her. Then his hand reached out and, with his finger, he traced the same path his eyes had just taken. She slowly turned her head back at him.

“Hold me closer Tiny Dancer, what’s going on in here?” Angel and Cordy both jerked at the interruption. Their heads whipped around to where Lorne stood in the doorway, resplendent in a gold lamé robe. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Lorne said, waggling his eyebrows. “I had no idea you two were up here playing Ben and J. Lo.”

“What?” Angel exclaimed, pulling his hand off Cordy like she had some sort of contagious skin condition.

“No way,” Cordy seconded, yanking her shirt back down.

Angel moved to stand on the other side of the room. “We weren’t playing…who is Ben?”

Cordy snorted. “Believe me Angel, you’re no Ben." She rounded on Lorne. “Why J. Lo? Is that your way of saying I have a big ass?”

Lorne gulped. “Easy slugger. Just an innocent Pylean bystander.”

Cordelia backed off. “Sorry Lorne,” she offered half-heartedly. She wandered over to the bed and sat, putting her head in her hands.

Lorne walked over and stood next to Angel. “What’s with the Pretty Pretty Princess?” he whispered.

Not taking his eyes off the woman slumped on the bed, Angel whispered back, “She can’t fit into her New Years dress.”

“Hello, it’s not like my ears got fat. I can still hear you two,” Cordy said, her voice muffled by the fact that her head was still buried in her hands.

Unlike Angel, Lorne knew what to do in situations like this. He jogged to the bed and gathered her in his arms. “Of course you can hear us, you silly, skinny girl. Now what kind of dress was it? Betsy Johnson?”

Still sulking, “John Galliano” Cordelia sullenly told him.

“Well those always run small,” Lorne said comfortingly.

“It fit last summer,” Cordy whined.

Lorne covered, just like the master that he was. “Well last summer you were practically anorexic. You needed to gain some weight, so you could look as fabulous as you do now.”

Cordy bit her lip. “Fabulous.”

“Glorious. Sexy and womanly and every man’s New Year’s dream.” Cordy shot Lorne a sly look. “Okay, not MY New Year’s dream,” Lorne amended, “but every other man’s. Come on sugar, I’m sure Angelcakes already told you all this.”

Cordy sniffled, mostly for dramatic effect. “Angel told me I was proportional.”

Both of them turned and glared at Angel. “Proportional?” Lorne repeated.

Why does this always happen to me? “Yes. Proportional. That’s a compliment,” Angel defended. “And, and I said other stuff. I told you you were beautiful,” he whined to Cordy.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Lorne. “He told me I was a beautiful person. That’s what guys tell all fat girls.”

“You’re not fat,” Angel yelled. Everyone froze and looked over at the crib. Seconds passed in silence. Angel gave a sigh of relief. And then one long, painfully loud wail erupted.

“Nice going,” Cordy huffed.

Lorne scurried over and picked up the squalling baby. “Angel-heart, looks like you’ve managed to alienate both the women and the children.”

Cordy slowly pushed herself up off the bed. “Well, I’m going downstairs to not eat,” she announced. “Thanks for all your help Angel.” Before Angel could object, she was out the door. He just stood there, looking at his feet, debating whether to run after her or give her some time to vent at Gunn, Fred, and Wes. I'm tired of being the bad guy. It's their turn. He’d just stay up here, spend some quality with his son and wait for Cordelia to cool off.

Rocking the baby gently, Lorne tissked. “You really don’t know women at all, do you?”

Angel ground his teeth. “What did you come in here for anyway?” he growled.

“Oh, right, with all the excitement I completely forgot. I got another new Speedo and I was wondering what you—Angel? Where are you going?”

Angel sprinted for the door, chasing after the lesser of two evils.


Part 2

Angel ran out of the room, pausing when he got to the stairs and looking over his shoulder to double-check that Lorne and whatever was underneath that robe of his weren’t following him. Luckily the hallway was clear. I should feel a little guilty. Leaving my crying child. But Angel’s instinct for self-preservation had overridden any fatherly concerns. He was sure Connor would understand.

He started to head down, then thought better of it. Better check the situation out before just diving right in. Cordy could have calmed down, or she could be throwing things. I might have graduated from the School of Dumb Planning, but I have learned something in the past three years. Before focusing on what the voices below him were saying, he took a moment to just look down, over the lobby, over all that was his. It was shocking when he thought about it. How much everything had changed. How much I’ve changed. Ten years ago he’d been wandering the earth, utterly without purpose. A shadow of a man with a shadow of a life. And then he’d met Buffy, which, for better or worse, had set him on the path he walked today.

I came to L.A. with nothing. Angel wondered if anyone truly knew how dark that time had been for him. How hard it had been to wake up with only the promise of another day without her. He hadn’t known he who was until he’d met Buffy, and he hadn’t been sure what he would be without her. He was sure, however, that the man he was today, was in large part due to the people downstairs.

He’d come to L.A. with nothing and look at him now. He was a father. He’d never realized how much he’d wanted that, not until he’d first held his son. Who is probably going to be traumatized by his babysitter and grow up with a troubling fondness for gold lamé, but oh well.

He had a real home now too. Angel ran his hands over the polished wood of the railing, nodding his head slowly. There was a certain pride in ownership, in being able to point to something and say “Mine,” instilled centuries ago in Ireland. He loved the hotel like a person. He loved the way it made them all, even him, feel safe.

Angel had friends now. He let his eyes focus on the people below. Gunn sitting on the round couch, playing his Game Boy and screaming the occasional obscenity at the machine. Fred, perched on her knees next to him, watching over his shoulder, giggling and encouraging. The scene was striking in it’s comfortableness and it’s normalcy and he loved it. Angel loved the times when nothing was happening. Because that’s when everything happened.

A child, a home, a purpose, and friends who cared about him. Angel had everything. Well almost.

On cue, as if there was an unseen director choreographing all their moves, he watched Cordy stomp out of the kitchen, muttering to herself and swinging a large black trash bag.

How did this happen? When did this happen? Angel desperately wanted to know the point when things had changed with Cordy. Not that he wanted to go back and erase it. He just needed to understand the series of events that led to his current state. How she’d snuck into his head, never once alerting his defenses. Voices, louder now, drifted up to him.

“Never thought I’d see the day when your punk ass would be taking out the trash Cordy,” Gunn said, the glee in his voice evident. The spectacle was entertaining enough for him to put down his Game-Boy.

Cordy dropped the bag at her feet and made a face. “I’m not taking out the trash,” she clarified. “I was cleaning out the cupboards.”

Fred, still leaning over Gunn’s shoulder, which was odd since he’d stopped playing the video game, looked up. “The cupboards? But the only thing in the cupboards is FOOD.” Fred sounded horrified.

“No,” Cordy told them, reaching for the trash bag again, “the only thing in the cupboards were empty calories. Twinkies, Ritz Crackers, Pop-Tarts—”

“Those were mine!” Gunn cried out.

Cordy didn’t blink an eye. “Three boxes of cookies, a bag—an entire bag of mini-Snickers bars, Apple Newtons, which are actually fat-free but have WAY too much sugar, every last bag of Doritos—”

Fred hopped up. “Is this a joke? If this is a joke, I’m not laughing.”

“Damn girl, did you leave anything in there?” Gunn asked.

“Of course. I left the Diet Snapple and a box of raisins,” Cordelia replied.

“Raisins?” Gunn did not sound like a raisin fan.

“They’re nature’s candy,” Cordy told him.

“You can’t…the Doritos…you can’t throw that stuff away,” Fred announced, reaching for the bag.

Watching the tug-of-war begin, Angel smiled. Maybe Cordelia had argued her way into his heart. Lord knows we’ve fought enough over the years. The odd thing was, Angel strangely liked most of their fights.

It was nice to argue with someone over the price of a sweater, instead of whether it was wrong to be together. It was comfortable to bicker over whose turn it was to change a baby’s diaper, instead of how to best avert an apocalypse. Why the screaming fight they’d had last week at the supermarket over generic paper towels had been one of his favorite days ever.

They’d both been so angry. Cordelia, yelling how they were buying “Brawny” so he might as well accept it. Him calling her a paper-product snob. Her pushing the shopping cart into his hip so hard he’d fallen into the fabric softener display, knocking everything over. Him chucking the 12-pack of toilet-paper at her. The way they’d both abruptly burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. And how that old woman had shaken her head at them, muttering about “young love” to her husband. That was a great day.

“Put down that bag Cordelia, or I swear, I will hurt you,” Fred hollered, snapping Angel out of his reverie. “I spent five years in a hell dimension. I learned things!” Angel grinned to himself. Fred’s getting better at this.

“I learned things too Fred,” Cordy said. “I learned what complex carbohydrates and processed sugars will do to a formerly-perfect body.” From where Angel was standing, which afforded him a wonderful view of her ample cleavage, he thought her body was still damn near perfect.

Cordy let Fred take the food and leaned against the counter, pouting. “I learned that despite my efforts…I have let myself become…fat.”

Still keeping a tight grip of the bag of goodies, Fred made a commiserating face. “That’s why you’re doing all this?” Cordelia just nodded, jutting her lower lip out anymore. “Cordy, you are not the least bit fat. You look wonderful.” Cordelia just looked morosely at Gunn, who did nothing. Fred sighed and nudged Gunn on the arm.

“What, oh, yeah, yeah, you’re not fat,” Gunn said.

Cordelia looked him up and down and crossed her arms over her waist, and even from upstairs, Angel could hear Gunn groan. “Gunn,” she asked rather sweetly, “what did you used to call me?”

Gunn was at a loss. He clearly had no idea what she was talking about. Fred nudged him again, urging him to answer. “Uh, whitey?” he guessed.

“No Gunn,” Cordy said, her voice rising, “you used to call me Stick Figure Barbie. Stick Figure Barbie. Gunn, would you call me Stick Figure Barbie now? Hmmm, what would you call me now?”

“More than a Mouthful Barbie?” Gunn offered. This time Fred hit him on the arm a lot harder than before. Cordelia snorted. Angel frowned. He does not need to be saying that to Cordy. I don’t need that mental picture, of his mouth, on her…. He moved closer to the stairs.

“Look, Cordy, guys like girls like you. They don’t want some starving model. They want a girl with a little somethin’-somethin, know what I’m sayin?” Fred coughed and Gunn became aware of his mistake.

“But you know, no one likes a fattie. Now, skinny girls. That’s where it’s at,” he proclaimed, clapping Fred soundly on the back. This time Cordy coughed angrily. Gunn looked scared. There was no way to make both girls happy. From his perch above them, Angel tried to telepathically communicate with his friend. Run. Run fast.

Gunn must have gotten the message. The door to the office opened and Wesley started over to them. Clearly not caring enough to try and warn his friend, Gunn made a speedy exit. “I’ll just go put this food away,” he said quickly, picking up the bag and walking out of the room, without waiting for a response.

Angel was debating if it was a good time to head down. Cordy seemed calmer now, as Fred spoke quietly to her. Wes was now standing on the other side of the counter and no one seemed to be yelling at him. Maybe it was safe?

“You should be happy,” Fred told her friend. “When I was in high school, I would have died to be as…uh…curvy.”

“I don’t want to be curvy,” Cordelia whined. “I want to be svelte. Slender. Slight.”

Cordelia leaned far over the counter, reaching for her purse, not realizing that by bending over she was giving Wesley quite a show. Angel’s hands curled into tight fists as he watched Wes stare intently down Cordy’s low cut top. Oh come on. This is a business. No one’s allowed to just be looking down her shirt like that. Angel quickly amended that statement. No one’s allowed to look down her shirt EXCEPT me. He started down the stairs.

Cordy, still bent over as she tried to fish her brush out of her purse, complained, “Curvy sucks.”

“Not from where I’m sitting,” Wesley muttered, apparently too transfixed by the breastage to consider the appropriateness of his words. Fred frowned, Cordy raised an eyebrow, but this time Angel was the one who gave the angry cough.

Wesley looked over to where the vampire stood at the bottom of the stairs and quickly took a couple of steps away, fixing his eyes on the floor. “Ah, yes, so, Cordelia, what are your plans for tomorrow night?” Wesley asked. He met Angel’s eyes and Angel nodded and came over to stand on the other side of Cordelia.

Gunn, walking out of the kitchen, answered for her. “I’ll tell you what she should be doing. She should be coming with the three of us to my boy Derek’s place. Gonna be the most happening New Year’s party in L.A.” he announced.

“Really?” Cordy considered.

“It should be lots of fun,” Fred told her. “Come!”

Gunn put his hand on Cordelia’s shoulder. “We’re talking tons of hotties, just like me.”

Cordelia removed Gunn’s hand from her shoulder, pleasing Angel immensely. “Gee, well, as much as I love poor bald men, and lord knows I do,” she said, reaching up and rubbing Gunn’s head, “I think I’ll have to pass.” Angel felt his whole body relax. She isn’t going out with them. She can’t fit into her dress. She can stay here, with me, and at midnight we’ll—

“I have plans,” Cordy went on. “With those girls I met in that Pilates class, you know, the one I clearly haven’t been going to enough lately.”

Angel tried not to let his disappointment show. Cordelia smiled brightly. “There’s this huge bash up in the Hollywood Hills. It’s gonna have everything I’m looking for.”

Gunn, Angel, and Wes all exchanged glances, as if to say, “What could she possibly be looking for? She’s got us.”

Cordy answered the unspoken question. “Attractive men with 9 to 5 jobs and 401K’s—”

“Cause those have been working out so well for everyone lately,” Wesley grumbled.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Guys who get no-polish manicures and don’t cut their own hair, guys who drive fast cars—”

“You know, the Plymouth is actually pretty speedy,” Angel felt the need to point out.

She ignored him completely. “Guys who were in fraternities. Guys who speak French—”

“Voulez-vous couchez avec moi c’est soi?” Gunn sang.

“Oh lord,” Fred opined.

Cordelia wasn’t finished yet, though. “Men who surprise you with Dom Perignon and strawberries. Men who give backrubs that make you melt like butter, make you want to beg them to fuck you, men who know how to use their tongue and teeth to—”

“I think we get the point Cordelia,” Angel growled.

Fred exhaled loudly. “Wow,” she said, her voice strained.

Seeing Fred’s reaction, Wesley mumbled, “I don’t see what’s so great about—”

“Are you kidding me?” Gunn interrupted. “The way she was making it sound—I’m thinking I want one of those guys!” Everyone’s jaw dropped. “But I don’t.” Gunn clarified.

“So anyway,” Cordelia said, sounding like she was recovering from her weight-woes and starting to look forward to tomorrow night. “That’s what I’m doing for New Year’s Eve.”

“More like who you’re doing,” Gunn joked.

“God willing!” she said in turn and everybody laughed. Everybody except Angel.

IT wasn’t that he was angry. She’s excited and happy. I haven’t seen her like this in so long. Vibrant. Alive. He liked her like this, even if what she was excited about made him crazy. Cordy didn’t get many chances like this. Looming over their lives, always unspoken but generally acknowledged, was that the visions were doing very bad things to her. She hurt often. Too often. She’s so young. She deserves nights like that. Men like that. Angel wanted her. He wanted her with him, he wanted her to want him the same way. But over-powering all of that, he wanted her to have a life. A life that made her happy. Even if he wasn’t the one who was making her happy.

That didn’t make it any easier, of course. Listening to her talk about letting other men touch her. Letting them in, letting them know her more intimately than he ever would. He decided to make one last try.

“Hey,” he said, so falsely cheerful that everyone cringed, “I’ve got a great idea.”

“You’ve changed your mind and decided to come out with us?” Wes guessed, not sounding altogether happy about it. Fred’s crush on Angel was a little too recent for Wesley’s liking.

“No,” Angel said slowly.

“You want to go to the movies?” Fred asked. Wesley made a face.

“No, Fred,” Angel began again, “I was actually thinking that—”

“That you came to your senses and are giving us a belated Christmas bonus?” Cordy said, bouncing up and down and clapping her hands together.

“No.” Cordelia stuck her tongue out at him, which was unfortunate, because it momentarily distracted Angel and gave Gunn a chance to interrupt.

“I know,” Gunn said. “Your great idea is that—”

“NO,” Angel said, more loudly than he intended. I love them all, but sometimes, I want to cut them up into little pieces. Is that wrong? “I was thinking, you know what would be really fun?” Gunn opened his mouth and Angel raised his hand to stop him from speaking. “That was a rhetorical question.”

He rubbed his hands together. “How great would it be if no one went out tomorrow night?” Everybody just stared at him. “Think about it guys. Our own private New Year’s Eve party. Much less expensive. No line for the bathroom. Gunn, you would get to pick all the music. It’ll be great,” Angel told them, smiling broadly. “The whole family. Together.” Angel stopped talking and waited for their reaction.

Wesley took off his glasses and started to clean them on his shirt. “Well…yes…well.”

“It’s a nice offer bro,” Gunn forced a tight grin.

“It sounds very…nice,” Fred told him.

Angel nodded distractedly. Those three could be guilted into almost anything. Like everyone in the room, he knew it all came down to one person.

“Are you kidding me?” Cordelia screeched. “Have you guys lost your mind? You made those plans before Thanksgiving. Fred, I personally spent three days searching for your dress. And Gunn, you’ve been doing that Eight Minute Abs tape for the past month. My God people, Wesley secretly got his teeth whitened!”

“Not such a secret now, though, is it?” Wesley grumbled.

“Sorry Wes,” Cordy had the good graces to admit. “But my point is, you three have been looking forward to that party. You are going to that party.”

Fred noticed the forlorn look on Angel’s face. “It wouldn’t be so bad. Staying home. It would be nice to all be together on New Year's.” Thanks Fred Angel thought.

“Pfftt,” Cordy sputtered. “And what? Kiss each other at midnight?” Why Miss Chase, what a wonderful idea. But she didn’t seem to think so. She pointed accusingly at Wes. “Been there, done that, not worth repeating.” Gunn burst out laughing.

“Hey,” Wes cried out, offended.

“You kissed Cordelia?” Fred exclaimed.

Satisfied she’d made her feelings quite clear, Cordelia once again reached for her purse. “Well, I’m out of here. The clock is ticking and I need to find something to wear. I’m thinking black. Short.” Angel swallowed and Fred glanced at him like she’d heard it. “Dangerous,” Cordy added, unnecessarily.

“I’ve heard good things about muu-muu’s” said Gunn, helpful as always. Cordelia cheerfully gave Gunn the finger.

Then she patted him on the head, tugged one of Fred’s braids, kissed Wes on the cheek, gave Angel’s left butt-cheek a healthy squeeze, and walked out the door.


Part 3

The next day…

“I’m just saying,” Angel said, tapping his chin and trying to sound both pensive and ominous. “It’s too quiet.”

“Come on Angel,” Cordy groaned, from where she was changing Connor’s diaper. “Sure we haven’t had to stake or decapitate anything in the past 48 hours. And yes, I haven’t had any mind-numbingly painful visions as of late. But that just means it’s quiet. That doesn’t mean it’s TOO quiet,” Cordelia clarified, without looking up, as she quickly taped down the sides of the new diaper.

Angel watched, admiring the efficiency. She’s really getting good at that. Actually, everyone in the hotel was getting good. He smiled, remembering their first clumsy attempts at diapering.

Fred, the only one of them with any babysitting experience whatsoever, had given a brief tutoring session. Angel had secretly practiced, in the wee small hours of the morning while his new son slept, diapering and undiapering a doll he’d found in the attic. Wes had studied the instructions on the diaper package for a good twenty minutes. Gunn had given up on the traditional approach after a couple tries—choosing to simply duck tape the diaper on. And as usual, Cordelia had acted like she knew what she was doing. But Angel had found the passages she’d highlighted in the baby book.

“What exactly is ‘too quiet’ supposed to mean, anyway,” Gunn asked, as he walked over to the counter they stood behind holding a giant bag of takeout food and sucking on an enormous Super Big Gulp. “I mean, the only time you ever hear it is on TV. It’s like, ‘oooh, it’s too quiet, Scully’ and then ‘you’re right Mulder, clearly the presence of silence means we’re in grave danger’. Whatever man,” Gunn shook his head and put the bag on the counter. “Too quiet. Do real people even say that?”

“I don’t know about real people, but cranky bloodsuckers who are intent on ruining other peoples night sure do,” Cordy replied as she finished snapping up the baby’s onsie.

“I am not cranky. And could you ix-nay the lud-sucker-bay talk in front of Connor?” Angel whined as he poured two cups of coffee.

Cordelia ignored his complaint. “Does it feel chilly down here?” she asked, rooting through the diaper bag. “Where’s the—”

“Here,” Angel cut her off, passing her Connor’s tiny hat.

“Thanks,” Cordy smiled and turned back to his son.

Out of the corner of his eye, Angel saw Gunn smirk. What is so funny? Is it my hair? I bet it’s my hair. Everyone makes fun of my hair, but do they ever actually tell me when something’s wrong? NO. They just let me walk around like a jackass. Angel lightly patted at the gelled spikes. “Now, about me trying to ruin other peoples night…” he said, hoping to distract Gunn from whatever was making him smirk like that.

Cordy slipped the hat on Connor’s head and then turned back to the other two men. “Don’t deny it. You’re trying to make trouble again Angel.” She put both hands on her hips and gave him a teasing glare.

Angel put the coffee pot down and wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his pants. Even when Cordelia’s glare was teasing it was still a tad…intimidating. And more than a tad arousing. “I just don’t see what the big deal is.” Angel frowned at the whininess in his voice but went on. “It’s just one night,” he reminded them. “Having seen more than my fair share of New Years, they’re pretty much all the same.”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. Angel busied himself adding some Equal to Cordy’s coffee and two sugars to his. Gunn shrugged and slurped loudly on his Big Gulp, bracing himself for another session of what Fred liked to call Angel and Cordelia’s Adventures in Flirtatious Banter.

Leaving Connor, Cordy walked over to where Angel stood. “New Year’s Eve is a very important night,” she informed him as she draped a cloth over his left shoulder.

“Sure it is Cordy,” Angel said, leaning down and getting in her face. “It’s an important night for bartenders to jack up their prices.”

“Listen buddy,” Cordelia said, leaning up and getting in his face right back. “I’ll have you know, how you spend New Year’s Eve determines the next 365 days of your life.”

“That’s crazy,” he retorted. Cordelia snorted and stuck out her tongue. In reply, Angel vamped out and crossed his eyes. Gunn spit Pepsi all over the counter and Cordy couldn’t contain her giggles. She clucked him on the chin and went back over to the baby.

“You’re daddy’s a gigantic goofball, you know that, don’t you Connor?” she crooned, scooping him up and running a finger over his tiny perfect eyebrow. Shaking off the bumpiness, Angel stared at the pretty picture they made until she started back over to him. He busied himself adding cream to her coffee.

“I just changed him,” she said, as they handed off the baby. Angel was supremely conscious of every brush of her skin on his. The way her hand, caught for a second between his chest and Connor’s wiggly body, pressed up against where his heart should be beating. “He took most of his bottle,” Cordy put her hand on Angel’s shoulder, “so all he needs from Daddy is a burp.”

From the other side of the counter, Gunn set his drink down and let out a burp that seemed to bounce off the Hyperion’s walls like an echo. Cordy cringed, gave Angel a quick squeeze and headed for the kitchen.

He leaned down to his son’s ear and pointed across the counter at Gunn. “Did you hear that Connor? Say ‘thank you Uncle Gunn’ for showing you how burping’s really done.” Connor gave a wet gurgly smile.

Gunn grinned and waved. “Anytime little man, anytime,”

Angel shifted the baby to his left side and with his free hand, he started to unpack the food “Isn’t Fred eating dinner?” he inquired, automatically handing the biggest carton to his friend.

Gunn shook his head. “She told me she was too nervous to eat. This is the first time she’s really stepped out, since, you know…”

“Her five-year vacation in Hell” Angel filled in.

“Exactly,” Gunn said, leaning over and snagging a plastic fork. “Fred headed upstairs around four and told me not to expect her until sometime after eight.”

Angel absently patted Connor’s back. “Well, does she, you know, need any help getting ready?”

“Are you offering?” Gunn asked, leaning back in his chair and glaring at the vampire. He sounded more than a little upset at the prospect of Angel helping Fred get dressed. He almost sounded…jealous.

“No. No, not me,” Angel sputtered. “I meant I could send Cordy up.”

Thoroughly pacified, Gunn went back to his Hunan Shrimp. “Naw, Cordy’s done enough. Did you see that dress she picked out for Fred to wear tonight?”

“No. Is it nice?”

It must have been nice, because Gunn stopped eating. “Sure it’s nice. What there is of it,” Gunn grumbled good-naturedly.

“Hey, it beats the hell out of burlap,” Cordelia shouted from the door to the kitchen. Then the microwave beeped from the other room and she disappeared again.

“It is pretty hot,” Gunn conceded once it was just the two of them. “Girl is gonna be seriously smokin’ tonight.” Gunn looked contemplative and excited and just a teeny bit nervous. He looked the way Angel felt when Cordy went through that micro-mini skirt phase. Which meant…

“Gunn, are you—”

Gunn nervously popped out of his chair. “Sooo, lets get the rest of this food unpacked. Wes said to just put his in the fridge, uh, so, uh, which of this is Cordy’s?” He was clearly trying to change the subject. He likes her. Gunn has a crush. On Fred. But he’s so… And she’s so… Angel did understand his reluctance to discuss it. God knows he hated people prying in his love-life.

Angel struggled to contain his smile. “The rice and the sweet and sour soup are Cordy's,” he said quietly. Gunn nodded and gave him a look, silently thanking him for not pressing the matter. Are we having a moment? I think Gunn and I might be having a moment.

Cordelia walked out of the kitchen holding a steaming mug. “So are we still discussing how great Fred’s going to look tonight?” she asked.

Angel glanced quickly at Gunn’s panicked face. “Nope, nope,” he said. “We, uh, we were talking about…Gunn’s outfit. He’ll be wearing, uh, pants, with, you know, a shirt.” She gave him a quizzical look. “Pretty exciting, huh?”

Cordelia tapped her foot and raised an eyebrow. “And you are oddly concerned about Gunn’s apparel why?”

Angel nervously bounced the baby. How come one tiny lie always resulted in a million more tiny lies? When am I going to learn? Don’t lie to Cordelia. “Uh, what’s so odd about it? You know I have an interest in fashion.”

“Yeah. Sure. How could I forget?” Cordy deadpanned, setting the cup down in front of Angel. “Here you go, 98.6. Just the way you like it.” She paused for a second and then grinned up at him. “Saying that, that should bother me more shouldn’t it? You know you’ve been in the business too long when you’re nuking your boss’s blood and you don’t blink an eye.” She giggled and moved to open the food Gunn placed in front of her.

Angel wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to that. First she’d smiled at him and he’d come THAT close to dropping the baby. It was that easy comfortable, super-wide smile of hers. She really shouldn’t flash that baby without giving me some warning.

And then, what she had said. About the blood not bothering her. Down boy. Don’t get too excited. Just cause heating up pigs blood doesn’t make her want to yak, that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t mind dating a creature of the night. That doesn’t mean she’d accept me in her life like that. In her body like that. Angel gave a small shiver at that thought. Being with Cordelia like that was almost painful to imagine. He felt warmer just standing next to her. Being inside her…that would be like diving into a volcano. Okay, I really can’t be thinking these things. Not now. Not while we’re eating dinner with Gunn. And not with her going out tonight to do God knows what without me. And certainly not while I’m burping Connor. There’s something elementally wrong with getting an erection while holding a baby.

Cordy was staring disappointedly at her plain white rice. She still hadn’t sat down and now it looked like she didn’t even want to. I told her she would regret trying to diet. I told her it wouldn’t matter, cause the most she could lose in 24 hours was a few ounces. I told her that she didn’t need to lose any weight, that she looked fine. Okay, I didn’t say fine. I said proportional. But still. Angel could only watch as Cordelia carefully eyed Gunn and all the food in front of him. She’s clearly plotting something. Should I warn him? Nahhh. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. Still patting his son on the back, Angel leaned against the counter and sipped at his blood. She really does know how to heat this up to the absolute perfect temperature.

Suddenly Cordy’s hand snaked out, reaching for one of Gunn’s egg rolls. But Gunn years defending the streets of Los Angeles had given him remarkably quick reflexes. He stabbed the top of her hand with his plastic fork.

“Oh no you didn’t. You did not just make a grab for my food,” Gunn cried out. “Tryin’ to put those grubby paws of yours on my dinner.” He shook his head.

Cordelia clutched at the offending paw. “Gunn! I’m not grubby.” She pouted. “Please. I just want one egg roll.” She started inching her hand closer.

Gunn moved his food further away from her. “Don’t even try it Cordy. That quivery lip thing only works on Captain Cannibal over there. Ask him to share!”

They both turned to Angel, who simply lifted his mug in Cordelia’s direction. She waved it off with an “Ughhh” and turned back to Gunn. “Please,” she whined, clasping her hands together as if in prayer.

Gunn looked to Angel. “Give me a hand here?”

Angel ignored the request. “You know, technically Gunn, I’m not a cannibal. Cannibals eat people. I drink blood. And it’s not even people blood anymore,” he eagerly pointed out, setting the cup full of non-people blood back on the counter.

Gunn blew out a puff of air in exasperation. “Bro. Focus. Make her leave me alone.”

Thinking they were suitably distracted, Cordelia was preparing to lunge across the counter again when Angel’s hand came down, solidly clasping her shoulder. “Cordy, stop tormenting Gunn,” he ordered, pushing her down into the chair. “If you’re hungry, eat YOUR food.” Cordelia mumbled something about how Gunn needed to watch his back, but eventually relaxed and reached for her fork.

“Angel, can you—”

He set the soy sauce down in front of her before she was halfway through with her request.

“All right, that’s it,” Gunn said loudly, drawing confused glances from both Angel and Cordy. “It’s official. You two are spending WAY too much time together.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Angel asked. If anything, we don’t spend enough time together. If I had my way, she would live here, at the hotel. I don’t like her living across town. Okay, it’s six minutes away, with traffic, but still… I don’t trust that Dennis anymore. Lately I’ve been getting the feeling that he’s been looking at her. When he shouldn’t be. Not that I resent a dead guy getting whatever action he can. Just not with her.

“Yeah, what is that supposed to mean?” Cordy seconded the question, before reaching up around Angel’s neck and tucking his tag back under his shirt.

“That!” Gunn pointed. “It means stuff like that. And how you both keep knowing what the other person wants before they ask. That’s creepy.”

Cordy swallowed her rice. “That’s not creepy.”

Angel nodded. “That’s nothing.”

“Okay. Fine. But what about how you carry lipstick and hair bands in your coat pockets for her?” Gunn exclaimed. Angel looked down. It wasn’t something he was proud of.

“His coat has bigger pockets!” Cordy shouted. “So what?”

“And you,” Gunn turned to her. “You, who got a Christmas card from the butcher. The butcher Cordelia!” She just shrugged.

“So?” Angel asked. Harvey sent her a Christmas card? I’m the one who PAYS for the blood. She just stops in and picks it up now and then. But do I get a card? Of course not. Nobody thinks about wishing the vampire Happy Holidays.

Gunn got a serious look on his face. “You’re starting to dress alike,” he said solemnly, wagging his plastic fork at them.

Cordy and Angel immediately turned to each other. Okay, so we’re both wearing black pants and light blue tops. But everyone wears black pants. That’s probably the most popular pants color. And her shirt is one those tiny clingy ones. And it has a V-neck. Mine doesn’t have a V-neck. Hey. That V-neck goes down really far. Angel started to casually angle his head to get a better look down said V-neck, but then he caught Gunn watching him.

“We are not dressed alike!” Angel retorted.

Yeah Gunn,” Cordy said . “You’re crazy.”

Gunn pushed the now-empty carton of food away. “Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt kids. Well, I’m done. I need to head home. Go get pretty for tonight.” He stood up and brushed off his clothes. “You two have fun tonight.” He leaned over and gave Cordelia a smacking kiss on the lips. “Happy New Year.”

“Right back atcha,” she told him.

Gunn leaned over toward Angel, who raised his hand to ward him off. “We can skip the kiss,” Angel stated.

“Your loss bro,” Gunn called out as he walked away. “Y’all be good,” he called out as he closed the door behind him.

For a while they just sat there, not talking. Angel rubbed soft circles on the baby’s back and finished his blood. Cordy sipped unobtrusively at her soup.

It wasn’t their usual comfortable silence. Angel couldn’t stop thinking about what Gunn had said. Cordy looked like she was still processing it too. There was a strained, almost-tension in the air as they let their friend’s words sink in. He was right, Angel thought. We do spend a lot of time together. And maybe we have changed a little. Shaped each other. Angel wasn’t unpleased with this theory. It gave him something he hadn’t had since he began looking at Cordelia in new and confusing ways. It gave him hope.

Suddenly Connor let out a loud belch, bringing them back from their respective reveries and making them laugh.

“I don’t think Gunn knows what he’s talking about,” Cordy said.

“I know,” Angel agreed, “just because we both look good in blue?”

“So what?”

“Exactly,” Angel told her. He moved away, placing Connor gently in the bassinet. He tucked the blanket more securely around the baby. “So, are you still going out with those girls tonight?” he asked, not looking at her.

“Marissa and Jessie are not ‘those girls’ and yes, we’re still going out.”

“Sure you don’t want to stay here?” Angel wheedled. “You could watch the ball drop. And there’s gonna be a ‘Three Stooges’ marathon on and—”

“I hate the ‘Three Stooges,” Cordelia interjected.

“And we won’t be watching them,” Angel smoothly covered his error. “Instead we could—”

“Angel,” Cordy started playing with the paper napkin that had been sitting on her lap. “I’m going out,” she told him. He walked over to her and she twisted on her stool to face him.

“You know you won’t really have any fun.”

“Oh really?” She raised a lone eyebrow.

“Really,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You’ll regret it all tomorrow. You'll get stumbling drunk and stain your dress and make-out with some dorky orthodontist.” Who I will then have to hunt down and kill.

“Hey, do you know how much money orthodontists make?” Cordelia joked, fumbling more with the napkin.

Angel stepped closer, boxing her in, so he was almost standing between her legs. “Cordyyy,” he drawled.

“Angellll,” she shot back.

Their heads were so close their noses were almost touching. Their lips were almost kissing. He felt when she realized it too. She blinked and stiffly leaned back, bracing her hand against his chest. Erecting a barrier between them. There goes that hope I was feeling earlier.

“Angel, seriously, tonight, it is important. To me. I want to start the new year right,” she explained.

“Exactly,” Angel said, taking a small step back but keeping his eyes fixed on hers. “What’s more right than ringing in the year with the people you…with your family?”

Cordy looked down at the shredded napkin in her lap. “Angel, don’t get me wrong. I love my life. My job. You guys. But…”

“But what?” Angel really wished she would look at him. If she’s going to tell me why I’m not enough, she should at least look me in the eye. Look at me!

She granted his unspoken command. “But…I’m tired of being alone. I’m not like you, I’m not good at it.” Angel desperately wanted to interrupt. She’s not alone. She has me.

“I’m tired of not having anyone to hold my hand during the scary part of the movie. I’m tired of no one even asking me to go to the movies,” Cordelia went on. I asked her to the movies. I invited her to go see “Lord of the Rings” opening night. She told me she’d rather change her name to Buffy. Women.

“Angel, I’m tired of nodding like I understand when my friends talk about having incredible sex all night long. Cause then there’s me, whose last fling was two years ago and ended up getting me pregnant with demon puppies. I’m tired of…I just need more.” Uncomfortable with sharing so much, Cordelia stood up and slid out of the space between Angel and the counter. She grabbed her food and threw it in the trash.

She wanted more? Angel could give her more. More what though? Sure my soul’s permanent, so we could make love. But that doesn’t change anything. I’m still a vampire. Still raising a child I created with my evil lover. I’m still the reason she gets visions that, one day, are going to destroy her. He watched her, as she peeked into the bassinet. Her face softened. Her eyes brightened. Lines from pain and exhaustion faded as she looked down at Connor.

Cordelia caught him staring but she didn’t say anything, she just smiled, before leaning down and brushing a soft kiss on the child’s forehead. She walked back over to where Angel still stood, frozen.

“You’ll be okay, right? Tonight? Alone?” Cordelia gazed up at him questioningly. “I don’t want you starting off 2002 brooding.”

Angel wasn’t sure how to respond. He knew he’d be okay. He’d spent so many years alone. What was one more night? But I don’t want to just be okay. Okay’s not good enough, not anymore.

He hadn’t answered her and Cordelia looked concerned. “I mean, if you really want me to stay, you know, just say the word.”

She would. He knew that. Cordelia had already proven she would sacrifice just about anything for them. She talked big. She could be abrasive and snotty. She had a healthy amount of self-interest. But Angel knew, when it came right down to it, that Cordy put the welfare and happiness of her family above her own. She would stay if he wanted.

He wanted her to stay. He wanted her to stay and to never leave. He wanted her there, in the dark with him, forever and for always. But that’s too much to ask. And so is this. It was, after all, just one night. She deserved a night of normal.

“Angel? Just say the word,” Cordy repeated softly.

“Go,” he told her, trying for an air of nonchalance. “Have fun.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, studying him. “Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure,” Angel said, steering her towards the door. Why bother to prolong the inevidable? “Me and Connor have big plans. Boys Night In. Just me, him, and Dick Clark.” He opened the door. “Now look at the time. Clock is ticking. You need to start getting ready. I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

Cordelia stopped in the door way and looked back over her shoulder at him. “I’ll stop by to check on you before I meet—”

“Don’t bother. I told you, we have plans. We might even pop open a bottle at midnight,” he ad-libbed, putting his hand on the small of her back and pushing her forward.

She braced her hand against the doorframe, impeding his progress. “Champagne?” Cordy asked, still craning her neck around to see him.

“Formula,” he corrected and pushed her out the door.

Once outside, she turned around to look at him with a cute, perplexed little half-smile. The setting sun behind her stood in stark contrast to the Hyperion, which suddenly seemed dim and dark in comparison.

“Angel are you—”

“Good. Great. Have fun tonight. Bye,” he babbled and quickly shut the door.

“Okay?” he heard her say from outside. Angel waited by the door, listening until she finally walked away. He ambled vacantly around the lobby. It hadn’t been easy, pushing Cordelia away like that. It won’t be any easier tonight. It’s not like I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’ll give Connor a bath, obsess over whether Cordy’s safe, change a few diapers, compulsively check my cell phone, give the baby a bottle, obsess more, and then put the baby to bed. Whereupon I will brood until midnight, watch the ball drop, and then brood some more.

Angel flashed back to something Cordelia had said earlier.

“I’ll have you know, how you spend New Year’s Eve determines the next 365 days of your life.”

I don’t know if I can take another year of this.


Part 4

Later that night...

There’s something that happens when a woman puts on a dress. The right dress, that’s really all it takes. And suddenly, what was once hidden, or overlooked, comes alive. The very air around her crackles with an enticing electricity that pulls at everyone, seducing the male eye like a siren’s song.

She feels it too. That much is obvious. She walks differently, moves with a languid grace that even she wasn’t aware she had. Her femininity becomes something alive, something that pulses through her. It brightens her eyes. It makes her skin glow. All because she has put on a dress.

There’s something else that routinely happens whenever a woman puts on a dress. She wants to be told how she looks. Repeatedly.

“Are you sure?” Fred asked Angel for the third time. She stood very still in the middle of his room. Her apprehension was palpable, beneath the thin skin of her chest he could almost make out the rapid beating of her heart. From where he sat on the edge of his bed, Angel struggled to hold back a groan. He tried to think of what to say, the perfect words that would convince her, so that she would stop asking. For a moment, Angel stayed silent. The soft sounds of Norah Jones filled the room and Connor cooed along, while Fred waited, looking down at her hands, like she didn’t recognize the long, tapered pink-tipped fingers as her own.

“Fred, you look very nice.” Angel spoke slowly, hoping the gravity and intonation in his voice would convey all that she needed to hear. Beyond “nice” and “pretty,” his mind was drawing a blank. You’d think with all the time I spent reading, I would be better with the adjectives.

Fred did look nice. More than nice, in fact. She had always had a subtle beauty. There was something innately girlish and sprite-like about her that it took men time to notice. Angel’s artistic eye had seen it almost from the beginning. Fred’s lure had always been that subtlety. She was the kind of woman whose layers would have to be unwrapped in order to be fully appreciated. But tonight, tonight all those secrets had been laid open. Tonight the wrapping paper was just as pretty as the present it concealed.

In the soft muted light of his room, everything about Fred seemed to sparkle, from her eyes to the borrowed baubles on her ears to the high heels she teetered on. She’d nervously gnawed most of her lipstick off, but in Angel’s mind, it only added to the look. Fred didn’t need it anyway, the pretty blush that had risen charmingly on the apples of her cheeks spoke volumes more than makeup ever could. She looked delicate and innocent and…on the verge. Like she isn’t sure what’s going to happen, but she can’t wait until it does. Angel’s lips curved up at the thought, his earlier annoyance fading. “You look very very nice,” he told her. I used two very’s that time. That should do it.

“What about my hair?” Fred asked. Her heavy hair was pulled up in a classic twist, bringing attention to her slender neck. Better not tell her that though. People never seem to like neck compliments from vampires. I don’t know why. We’re connoisseurs of the neck. It’s like an opinion from an expert. “Is something wrong with my hair?” Fred asked when he didn’t answer.

“Oh. No. No it’s all there,” Angel assured her. He understood follicle concern, at least.

“Good, good,” Fred muttered to herself, nodding rapidly. Glancing down she carefully smoothed the dress over her hips. She looked up. “Cordy picked out my dress. Do you like my dress?”

Angel had been worried about the dress. He knew Cordelia had picked it out. Cordelia had a certain style, one that her confidence and stature allowed her, but one that would not necessarily translate well on little Fred.

He’d gotten even more worried after what Gunn had said at dinner. He’d made it sound like the dress was verging on indecent. Angel didn’t want Fred running around town in some tiny scrap of material. And not just because she would look cheap. God knows what it would have done to Wesley and Gunn. Angel had been noticing Wes’s growing affection for the physicist for weeks, and now, with Gunn’s admission at dinner…I have a sneaking suspicion there’s going to be a fistfight over who kisses who at midnight. Luckily, Fred’s dress wasn’t anything like he’d feared. Like always, Cordelia had come through.

It was short, that much was true. It barely grazed the middle of her thighs, which momentarily gave Angel pause. At least it’s not too tight. The dress was held up by fragile spaghetti straps and the black material glittered unobtrusively whenever Fred moved. But it worked. Cordelia had somehow found a way to bring out a side of Fred Angel had never noticed before. Sensuality.

“It’s a very pretty dress Fred,” he said simply.

“But how does it look when I turn?” she immediately asked. She started spinning around in wobbly circles, unused to balancing on three-inch heels. Okay, now that just seems like a disaster waiting to happen. With a shake of his head and a vampiric burst of speed, Angel shot off the bed and grabbed her, stopping her before she got too dizzy. When he let go, she lurched precariously to the left but caught herself. “I got it, I got it.”

“Fred, you need to calm down,” Angel said. He took her by the shoulders, mostly for emphasis, but also to keep her vertical. “You look great.” From the direction of the crib, the baby chirped quietly. “See. Connor agrees. And he has excellent taste in women,” Angel joked. Hey, he can’t get enough of Cordelia. Sounds like good taste to me.

“It’s just,” she said, not looking at him, “it’s just that I feel like a princess.” She ran her tongue over her now-bare lip. “I mean, I know I’m not a head-turner,” she told him, staring at his shirt collar.

Angel tipped her chin up. “Fred, I guarantee, heads will definitely be turning tonight.” I can think of two heads in particular. And then they’re going to tear each other’s head off fighting over her. Maybe I shouldn’t let them take any weapons tonight.

Blissfully unaware of Angel’s growing fear about an impeding bloodbath, Fred went on. “I mean, I’m not like Cordelia. You should see what happens when we go out.” Angel felt his hands fist. Please Fred, I don’t want to know what happens.. I already have anger management issues.

“She makes guys all speechless and stuttery,” Fred said.

Tell me about it. I was Mister Smooth Bad Guy for hundreds of years and two minutes with Cordy has me thinking I need speech therapy.

“Even in this dress, I could never be like that.” Fred was starting to ramble now. “She’s gorgeous. And I can’t believe she thinks she’s fat. I would die to have that body.”

Angel nodded. I’d die to have that body too. Under me. No, wait, on top of me. No, pressed against the wall of the shower. No, I know, under me but on top of the desk. That’s it. Or maybe we could do that move from the Kama Sutra. I’ve been wanting to try that since the mid 1800’s. It’s not like it’s impossible. Cordy did used to be a cheerleader.

“Fred, you won’t just be turning heads tonight,” Angel said, taking her hand in his, “you’ll be stopping hearts.” He put her hand on his chest. “See, not beating. You’re doing it already.” She giggled. Angel brought her hand up and lightly kissed the top of it. “You really do look lovely.” Fred smiled shyly as more color flooded into her face.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” they heard a teasing voice say. They both turned to see Cordy smiling widely just outside the room. Fred giggled and took her hand back.

Her eyes went wide as Cordelia entered. “Oh. Oh Cordelia. You—”

“Oh no,” Cordy cut her off. “You Fred. Tonight it’s all you.” Cordelia moved closer, looking her over with a practiced eye. “You look unbelievable,” she told her shorter friend. “You’ll be making all the guys drool tonight.”

“Really?” Fred asked.

“Of course. And speaking of drooling men,” Cordy grinned and brushed a strand of Fred’s hair into place, “Gunn and Wes are downstairs in the lobby, VERY anxiously awaiting your arrival.”

Fred couldn’t contain her self-conscious smile. “Oh, oh I better go then.”

“Well yeah.” Cordy pointed at Angel. “You stay up here much longer and Mister I Have a Permanent Soul Now might try and put the moves on you.” Both women smiled at Angel. He just stood there, unblinking, a silent statue.

“Okay, well,” Fred said, grabbing her sparkly clutch purse from the night table. “Bye you guys.” She waved nervously at them, stepping out into the hall. “Happy New Year,” she called out as she left. Cordelia moved to the doorway to watch Fred negotiate the stairs.

Angel had wanted to tell Fred Happy New Year. He’d wanted to repeat how nice she looked. Maybe remind her to keep Gunn and Wesley under control. Unfortunately, it appeared he had lost the ability to form words. Why would he be able to speak—since the moment he’d heard her voice and turned around, Angel had barely been barely able to THINK coherently. And his knees were suspiciously weak.

The dress was red. Of course she’d pick red. Because the world is against me. I mean, I knew a long time ago that God had forsaken me. But I never thought He’d decide to torture me like this. The strapless burgundy dress was slim-fitting, hugging every inch of Cordelia’s body from the tops of her barely-covered breasts to the tips of her toes. This was a dress designed to entice.

While she had gushed over Fred’s dress, Angel had watched Cordelia as if in a trance. He knew at one point they had said something to him, or at least about him, but he could barely hear them. And then, when Cordy walked back to the door to watch Fred walk away, he saw…

There’s no back. Does she know half of her dress is missing? Angel closed his eyes, thinking he was seeing it wrong, but when he re-opened them, all that glorious skin was still there. The back plunged dangerously low, barely covering her tattoo. It was a testament to modern technology that the dress was somehow managing to stay on.

She’s…God, she’s…she’s not going out like that. She can’t. Angel shuddered. He hadn’t needed Fred to describe what happened when Cordy went out. He’d seen it before. Her easy careless sexuality entranced everyone in the room. Men sat up straighter, adjusted ties, debated with friends over who would approach her. Usually Angel’s glare had them backing off, and when it didn’t, a few choice words sent them running. But I won’t be there tonight.

“Angel? Did you hear what I said? Cordy asked as she glided back in the room and over to the full-length mirror in the corner. Doesn’t she think it’s odd that I put a mirror in here? Doesn’t she ever wonder why? She examined herself carefully, adjusting the glittering necklace. “Angel, didn’t Fred look incredible?”

“Hmmm? What? Yeah. Yeah, incredible,” he managed to say without squeaking.

“I feel so proud,” Cordelia gushed, wiping at a tiny lipstick smudge. “Like we’re parents sending our daughter off to the prom or something.”

Angel was poleaxed by her comment, nearly bowled over as her casually uttered words sent a barrage of images racing though his mind.

Cordelia, lying on his bed, propped up by pillows, nursing a baby girl with a fuzz of dark hair.

Angel awkwardly trying to place a pink bow on the head of a squirming toddler in purple overalls.

Angel and Cordelia nervously holding hands in a school auditorium as their little superstar danced clumsily on stage.

“Helloooo? Are you in there?” Cordy snapped her fingers in front of his face.

“What? Sorry,” he mumbled.

She gave him a sympathetic look. “Buffy flashbacks?”

“Huh?” He hadn’t been expecting that.

“You know, cause I mentioned prom,” Cordelia explained.

“Oh,” Angel nodded. “No. Not exactly.”

“Okay,” she said. Thankfully she looked like she wasn’t going to press the issue. She took a step back and held her arms up. “Well, go on. Tell me how I look. Shower me with praise.”

“You look….” Angel trailed off. How am I supposed to find a word to describe her. There are no words.

“Proportional?” Cordy filled in, repeating what he had said to her the day before.

“Very proportional,” Angel agreed. “And…”

“How about achingly beautiful? Worthy of the cover of Vogue?”

“Sure,” he said. “If that’s the look you’re going for.”

She smiled widely up at him. “Ahhh, now that’s my Angel. Always such an ego-booster.”

She didn’t seem upset, but Angel was. He hated that he couldn’t have simply told her how she looked. Made her blush. Let her know what she did to him. She was right. She is achingly beautiful. Angel knew this, because right then, it hurt to look at her. It would have been easier if he hadn’t had to see her.

“Cordy, what are you doing here anyway?” he asked.

“Oh! What with your clumsy attempt at a compliment, I completely forgot!” She wagged her finger at him. “Don’t move.” Ha! Like I could. She raced back to the door, grabbed the bag she’d apparently left just outside and then ran back to him. Unlike Fred, Cordy moved like she’d been born in heels. “Here you go,” she proudly presented the bag to him.

Angel was never quite sure what to do when people gave him things. He awkwardly took the bag, but didn’t look inside. “What’s this?”

She rolled her eyes when he didn’t just open the bag. “Supplies. For boys night,” Cordy gestured to him and over to where Connor lay. “I splurged on the good stuff. Tonight my friend, you will be drinking lambs blood, which Harvey the Butcher says is the caviar of the blood world. And I bought that expensive baby formula that Sarah Jessica Parker feeds her kid. Connor will be slurpin’ like the rich and famous!”

He didn’t know what to say. He’d never met anyone like her. Every time he thought he finally knew Cordelia, she managed to surprise him.

“Cordy, you didn’t have to—”

“Sure I did,” she shrugged, taking the bag back from him. “If my boys are spending the night in, they are going to spend it in style.” Cordelia put the bag down on the bed and started digging through it. “And—”

“There’s more?” Angel wondered.

She handed him a videotape. “And I also brought you ‘Steel Magnolias,” she said. Angel opened his mouth and Cordy promptly slapped her hand over it. He ached to dart his tongue out and taste her.

“Look Angel, I know it’s your favorite movie, I’ve caught you watching every time it’s on, so don’t even bother to deny it. And lets skip the part about how it’s this big secret and if I tell anyone you’ll chain me to a wall and make with the torture.” She let him go.

“Cordelia,” Angel said though clenched teeth, even as his mouth started to water at the mention of chains. Not so much into the torture anymore, but chains, now that’s a nice idea.

“Angel, I promise I won’t tell,” Cordelia said, raising her right hand. After a beat she dropped it and asked witheringly, “You don’t cry EVERY time you watch it, do you?”

Oh come on! Who doesn’t cry during Steel Manolias? With the diabetes? And the way the husband comes home and the baby’s crying and Julia Roberts is just lying there, clutching the phone? It’s heartbreaking.

“Of course I don’t cry,” Angel said. She looked at him speculatively, like she wasn’t sure she believed him. “No more than you cried at the end of ‘Rudy,” he added.

Immediately her eyes began to water. “His father finally got to see him play football for Notre Dame. It was beautiful.”

They looked at each other and started laughing. Jealous that he was being ignored, Connor gave a little yelp for attention. It worked. Cordy was standing over the crib before Angel could blink.

“Hey kiddo,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “Guess what Connor. One day, when you’re older, you can watch ‘Steel Magnolias’ and sob your little heart out, just like Daddy. Won’t that be fun?”

“Hey!” Angel cried out, insulted.

“Ahh,” Connor said soberly, like he didn’t care much for the plan.

“Don’t worry, I’m just kidding,” Cordy soothed. “I would never make you watch that stupid girly movie.” She moved his teddy bear closer and fussed with his blanket. “You have fun tonight sweetie.” She leaned over more and brushed a soft kiss on his temple. “Happy New Year.”

Cordy straightened and turned around, inhaling sharply when she almost ran right into him. He was close enough now to see the way her pulse fluttered, to notice the flare of something indefinable in her eyes.

“You have a happy New Year too, ‘kay big guy,” she said softly. There was a hint of uncertainty in her voice. She gnawed on her bottom lip, unconsciously mimicking what Fred had done earlier.

The next song on the C.D. came on. Norah’s sultry voice launched into “Don’t Know Why” and Cordelia started to lean closer to him and then paused. She kissed Connor…is she going to kiss me too? Angel stood perfectly still, even as blood rushed screaming though his body, he kept still, waiting to see what she would do.

Cordelia gulped audibly and Angel closed his eyes and warm dry lips pressed tentatively on his cheek, just left of his mouth. A split second of softness and then it was gone.

Angel opened his eyes and there she was, right in front of him. And she was blushing. He’d never seen her blush before. She was beautiful when she blushed.

Angel was debating internally whether he should kiss her back when a car honked outside. Cordelia briefly turned to the window and then back to him.

“That’s my ride,” she practically whispered. “I have to go.” But she didn’t. She just glanced down at the baby and than back at Angel.

“They’re waiting for me,” she told him.

But Cordy seemed to be waiting for Angel. To do what, he didn’t know. Her eyes seemed to be asking something, but he didn’t have a clue what she wanted. Outside the car honked again. He panicked.

“Have fun,” Angel muttered in a suddenly raspy voice.

“Right. Yeah,” she said, eyes flickering, before she stepped around him and walked out, closing the door behind her.

As Norah Jones sang “You’ll be on my mind, Forever,” Angel stood there, rubbing his hand over his heart, trying to ease the tightness in his chest.


Part 5

New Year’s Eve isn’t all that special. When it comes right down to it, it’s just a night like any other night. It starts when the sun goes down and ends when the sun goes up. Nothing special there.

Angel had been telling himself that for several hours now. It wasn’t working.

He’d turned off the music soon after Cordelia had left, determined not to spend the entire night wallowing. He tried to distract himself by giving Connor a bath. Connor loved bath time. He couldn’t get enough of the water. Cordy had bought him lavender soap that was supposed to make babies sleepy and this little terry-cloth robe thingy to wrap him up in afterwards. She would sing forgotten songs from the eighties and Connor would gurgle and coo.

Angel couldn’t find the robe or the special soap so he tried to make up for it by humming and dancing around. The forced gaiety made the baby tense and cranky. Connor kicked and screamed and by the end, they were both soaking wet and miserable.

Once father and son were dried and changed, they settled in on the bed to watch “Steel Magnolias.” For two hours, as the southern women on the screen laughed and cried and laughed and then cried more, Angel tried to comfort the fussy baby, to no avail. I guess he’s not a big Sally Field fan. It must be genetic. She’s given me the willies ever since she played that flying nun.

He fed the baby the fancy formula, which Connor ended up loving. Watch, now he’ll never settle for the cheap stuff again. I’m going to have to start charging helpless people more all so I can keep my son in the lifestyle he’s become accustomed to. That folks, is the miracle of Cordelia.

Connor had seemed to settle down after eating and was dozing in his crib. For now, at least. Angel had turned off the lamp beside his bed, so now the only light that filled the room was the flashing blue shadows from the TV. He’d put it on mute after the video had ended, but he’d kept it on. It was funny. A long time ago, he would have preferred to sit in darkness. Maybe add a candle or two, for more tortured brooding ambiance. But not now. Now he found the flickering lights from the television comforting. He wasn’t exactly sure when that had happened. Couldn’t have been too long ago. I only put the TV in here a couple of months ago.

It was right after Connor was born. Angel had still been having a hard time even trusting the others to hold the baby. There was this tiny little creature, this life, that he’d helped create. A baby that existed because of him and was utterly helpless, dependent on Angel for everything. It’s only natural that I had issues. I mean, Gunn was giving advice like “Hold the baby like a football” and Wes looked like he couldn’t wait to stick Connor under a microscope and study him.

Even with Cordelia and Fred, it was hard passing over the baby. Fred sort of knew what she was doing but she was also still suffering from Post-Hell Dimension Stress. And Cordelia…well, she’d never come off as anything resembling nurturing. Angel had nightmares about leaving her alone with the baby and returning to find his young son’s toenails painted.

What had it taken to change his mind? At the hospital, right after they’d named the baby, he’d handed Connor to Cordy. And Angel saw what it did to her. Her mouth had parted in what could only be described as awe. Her voice changed, into something warm and almost…maternal. She’d placed the baby in the stroller so carefully, like he was made of glass. “Like he was a pair of shoes,” Gunn had later recounted. Regardless, it was clear, then and there, that Connor would hold a place in Cordelia’s closely guarded heart, a place few of them would even approach.

Everything after that had sort of just happened. In that way women have, Cordy was just suddenly THERE, giving the baby baths and going for checkups. He trusted her implicitly. She read that signing to babies helped them learn to talk earlier –Angel started learning sign language. Cordy said Connor needed more stimulation—Angel bought the fifty-dollar mobile. It still hurt, to pass the baby over to her. But not for the same reason.

Nothing could be more natural then easing the baby into Cordelia’s arms. It was so familiar and wonderful and then he would remember that it was a lie. The three of them, they weren’t some family. Cordelia would be there for Connor’s first words, but he would call her “Aunt Cordy.” She would one day argue over which school he’d attend, but Connor would never get scared in the middle of the night and crawl into bed between them. Everyday, the two of them played house, but Angel never forgot for a second that it was just a game.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy the game while it lasted. Cordy started taking Connor upstairs for his bottle. Sometimes Angel would join them. Other times he’d stand right outside the door, just listening. To the happy harmony of their heartbeats. To Connor’s nonsensical babble, which Cordelia would interpret anyway she saw fit. To her off-key renditions of “Leaving on a Jet Plane.” I don’t know why she refuses to just sing Connor normal lullabies. God forbid the woman sing “Hush Little Baby,” or “Row Row Row Your Boat.” Instead she warbled a gamut of non-traditional songs. Motown. The soundtrack to “Grease.” Aerosmith. Incredibly, Connor seemed to love it all. Especially REO Speedwagon. I’m going to end up with a child that knows all the words to “Keep on Loving You.” Oh the shame.

That’s how Angel ended up with a combination TV/VCR in his room. Cordelia would whine and whine about how there was nothing to do in there. Angel had come upstairs one day and seen that she’d rearranged all of his drawers. She’d left a little post-it in the bathroom making fun of his collection of Sonicare electric toothbrushes. She wouldn’t laugh if she knew what blood does to tooth enamel. Gotta keep those fangs pearly white.

But Angel had worried about what else she might find snooping around in there—besides the aforementioned book of scandalous sketches. There were just certain things Cordy didn’t need to know. Things she would have a field day with. The pictures taken of me during the Disco Era. My copy of “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus.” The stack of Playboys under my mattress.

So he’d gotten a television. To keep her entertained. Cause the more entertained Cordy was, the less she snooped. And also because then she couldn’t use boredom as an excuse to leave. And it worked. Most nights she doesn’t make it out of here until one or two in the morning. They fell into an odd schedule of sorts. Cordy would have a vision. She’d lay down in his bed to recuperate while Fred watched the baby and the men went out and killed the bad guys. Angel would come back in time to catch the beginning of “Conan O’Brien” with her, Connor securely cuddled between them. Cordy would take off when “Last Call” came on. If Carson Daly wasn’t such a dumbass, I bet Cordelia would spend the night. Damn You Carson.

From his crib, Connor began to whimper and fuss, prompting Angel to quit his reverie. Getting up, he glanced at the clock. It was 11:57. Three minutes until midnight. Time had suddenly become such a relative thing. He’d walked the earth for hundreds of years and still, this was turning out to be the longest night of his life.

Angel picked the baby up. He turned the volume on the television up. It didn’t help. Angel was shocked by how lonely he felt. He shouldn’t be lonely. Not when he could feel his child’s fluttery heartbeat through his shirt and hear the roar of the Times Square crowd as the seconds ticked away. Angel was lonely though. Empty. No, that’s not right. Not empty. Just not quite full. Something is missing. Ha! I love how I say that. Like I don’t know what’s missing. Who’s missing.

“Women are trouble,” Angel told his son ruefully. Connor smacked his gums and looked up at his father. “You’ve probably already picked up on that. But if you haven’t, don’t worry, you will.” Connor nodded seriously as Angel started to pace.

“I’m not going to go so far as to say women are evil. They’re not. They’re just…complicated. They bring out the best and worst in you. God, they make you crazy…she makes me crazy. How bout that Connor? Daddy’s insane and it’s all your Aunt Cordy’s fault.”

The baby’s little hand suddenly swung out, slapping softly against Angel’s jaw. The vampire chuckled softly. “Okay, okay, relax. It’s not all her fault. It’s MOSTLY her fault.” Connor eyed him warily. “Never let yourself need a woman Connor. Like them all you want. Fall in love. Have a ball. But never start to need her. I mean it, it’ll bring you nothing but heartbreak.” Angel walked over towards the TV so they could watch the countdown.

“Sure, it’s fine, needing her, when she’s around. But they leave Connor. They sucker you into needing them and then they leave. They go out on New Year’s Eve in dresses designed by the devil himself, and they leave you aching and babbling to your infant son.”

On the television, Dick Clark shouted “Almost time now! Everyone! Ten!….Nine!…”

“And once you need a woman, that’s it. You can’t just stop. Believe me, I’ve tried,” Angel continued. “You think I want to be like this? I don’t. Look at the mess Aunt Cordy has turned me into.”

“Eight!…Seven!…Six!…” the crowd chanted along with Dick.

“Thank God for Gunn. You’ll need a strong male role model and I just don’t think I can be that for you. Not with Cordelia twisting me up inside this way,” Angel rambled.

“Five!…Four!…”

“Not that Wesley isn’t strong. It’s just that he’s English,” the father told his son, seemingly oblivious to the madness on the TV screen.

“Three!…Two!…ONE!…Happy New Year!”

It was the blaring of car horns outside that brought Angel back from his lecture. “Huh?” He looked at the TV. Fireworks lit up the New York skyline. Confetti was everywhere. Dick Clark slipped his wife the tongue on national television.

Angel brushed a kiss on the top of his son’s head. “Happy New Year Connor,” he said. Happy New Year to me, too. Gee, and I have so much to look forward to, don’t I? Twelve more months of pining for Cordelia like some lovesick puppy. Three hundred and sixty-five more days that always end the same way, with her walking away. Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes of pretending that nothing’s changed, that nothing’s different, even though everything is different. Everything has changed. Stake me now.

“Would you do that for me, Connor? Would you please stake Daddy?” Angel muttered. The baby burrowed his head further into Angel’s shoulder.

“Here’s wishing you and yours the happiest of years,” he heard Dick Clark say. “I hope everyone out there is spending this special night with the people you love.”

Angel sighed in annoyance. “Okay, forget about staking Daddy. Someone needs to stake that guy. Seriously, people go on and on every single year about how Dick Clark never ages. I can’t believe one of them hasn’t figured out WHY.” Angel leaned down to whisper in Connor’s ear. “If you think he’s bad now, you should have seen him back then. Him and Dru had a thing once.” Angel reached down and turned the television off.

“So that’s it big guy. That’s your first New Year’s Eve. I know, I know, it didn’t really live up to your expectations. But I’ll think you’ll find that pretty much happens every year. You figure you’ll spend the night with your friends and then they all go out without you. You guess that the girl of your dreams will come to her senses and come rushing in at 11:59 and that doesn’t happen either. You’re sure she’ll at least call to wish—”

BRRRINGG! Angel’s monologue was cut off by the ringing phone. “Looks like I spoke to soon,” Angel said as he ran to the phone. She’s probably just calling to see if I cried during “Steel Magnolias.” Or, or maybe she had a vision. Maybe someone’s in trouble. Maybe Cordy’s in trouble. Or…or she could just be calling to wish me a Happy New Year. Then again, she could be calling to brag about how many guys she kissed at midnight. He picked up the phone.

“He—hello?” Angel said hesitantly.

“Angel?” he heard, over an incredible amount of background noise. It wasn’t the voice he had been expecting, but it wasn’t unfamiliar either.

“Fred?” he shouted so he could hear her. “Hey. How are you? Is everything okay?” he asked, shifting Connor to his other shoulder.

Fred paused and then exhaled dramatically. “Everything is…wonderful. Incredible. Insane. Insanely, incredibly wonderful,” she screamed.

“That’s nice Fred.” Despite the suckiness of his own night, Angel was happy for her. Fred sounded like she was having the time of her life. She also sounded more than a little drunk.

“I met so many people. Gunn has a million friends. Wes did the running man. Oh and some guy tried to pick me up! He gave me his card. And then Gunn and Wes threatened him. It was just like when you and Cordelia go out!”

Not exactly. I never let guys get close enough to give Cordy their cards, Angel thought, smiling grimly.

“Oh and the music is great. And I did a keg stand. And some shot, called ‘Three Wise Men.’ And everything is spinning and beautiful.”

“I’m glad you’re having such a good time,” Angel told her, rubbing the baby’s back softly.

“And then, at midnight, we kissed,” Fred squealed.

Angel froze. This was not good. Well, it was good for one of the guys. But really not good for the other. Which could mean big trouble. He could picture this going horribly horribly wrong. This was why workplace romances were such a bad idea. Ha! Like I really believe that.

“Who’s we?” Angel asked with dread.

“Me and Gunn.” Angel nodded to himself. Poor Wesley. “Then me and Wesley,” Fred told him. Huh? “Then Gunn and Wesley.” Oh. Okay. Got it.

Before Angel could come up with an appropriate response, Fred asked him if he would hold on a second. He heard her tell someone that she would be right back and then the background noise got slightly less blaring.

“That’s better. Sorry about that Angel, I could barely hear you.”

“No problem.”

“So, how is your night going?” Fred asked.

“Oh, pretty well,” Angel said breezily. He glanced suspiciously at Connor, daring the baby to contradict his lie. Connor just slurped on his fingers.

“Have you heard from Cordelia?”

“Ahh, no,” Angel told her.

“Oh well, I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably just busy flirting with millionaires.” Angel cringed. And thank you so much Fred for that mental picture. This phone call needed to end.

“Well Fred, I better let you get back to the party.”

“What?” Fred shouted as the music around her got louder. “Oh, okay. Hey guys, Angel’s on the phone.”

“Happy New Year” Wes and Gunn slurred.

“Angel? They said—”

“I heard. You guys be safe. No one drive.”

Fred hiccupped loudly into the phone. “You got it. Us guys will drive and no one will be safe. Wait, I didn’t mean that. I meant…well, you know what I meant. Nighty-night Angel.”

“Goodnight Fred,” Angel said and hung up the phone. He looked down at Connor, who was still sucking away on those fingers. “Looks like it’s just you and me kid.”

“And me,” came a voice from the doorway.

Angel blinked at the figure just outside in the hall. He’d turned off the television so the room was almost completely dark, except for the light filtering in through the window. Pretty much all he could make out was an outline of a person. But I know those curves anywhere.

“Cor—Cordelia?” Angel’s voice came out in a harsh whisper. He cleared his throat and started again. “You…I…Cordelia?” he stuttered. Oh yeah, that’s much better.

Cordy pressed her lips together like she was trying to contain a smile. “Were you expecting someone else?”

She took a few steps closer. A sliver of moonlight caught on her, illuminating a slice of jaw, the arc of her perfect cheekbone. Angel could smell her now. His teeth clenched as an onslaught of pure desire raced through his body. How could he want her so desperately? How could he want her so desperately and she not know?

“Uh, no. No one else. But I wasn’t expecting you. I mean, I was expecting you, I just was expecting you to be busy making out with the orthodontists by now.” Even he had to shake his head at that one.

What was it about Cordelia that made him fumble? Even with Buffy…it was never like this. Everything then had an air of dramatic intensity…never stumbling foolishness. With Buffy I was Humphrey Bogart in “Casablanca.” Cordy walks into the room and I’m Jimmy Stewart in…well, in every movie he ever made.

“Right. Orthodontists,” she said, gliding over toward the bed. She turned the switch of the lamp on the nightstand, filling the room with a warm glow, pushing the shadows back into the corners where they belonged. “Let me tell you something I learned about orthodontists tonight. Besides their teeth and their bank accounts, they don’t have much going for them.”

Angel barely heard her. He was too busy looking. The light from the lamp illuminated the glowing skin. It made the highlights in her hair the color of fresh honey. She was at once both a golden goddess and a sinful temptress. Hundreds of years ago, in another life, the Galway villagers he grew up with would have burned her at the stake. Women weren’t supposed to look like she did. That kind of power over men, it wasn’t natural.

“And if you think orthodontists are bad, agents are ten times worse.” Cordelia was still talking about her evening. “They honestly think telling you about a part as Bloody Extra Number Two on “ER” means you’ll sleep with them. As if. Of course, if George Clooney was still on, I’d have to think about it.” She waited for him to laugh and when he didn’t, her face scrunched up into a frown. “Hey, big guy, I’m making with the funny here. Mind paying attention?”

“Uh, what? Oh right. Clooney. Sure,” Angel stuttered.

“Have you been drinking something besides blood tonight?” Cordelia walked around the bed to where he still stood holding the baby.

Angel made a pained face. No I haven’t been drinking, but now that I think about it, I could use a glass of whiskey right now. Screw that “glass” crap. The way she’s dressed, I’m going to need the whole bottle. “Of course I haven’t been drinking.”

She didn’t look like she believed him.

“Cordy what are you doing here?” What, you couldn’t wait until tomorrow to start torturing me? Just had to come here and rub it in my face? Angel was suddenly gripped with fear when another theory popped into his head. “Did you have a vision?” he barked out roughly.

“Vision? No.” Then she seemed to think about it. “Well, actually, yes.”

“You did?” Connor gave a little squeak when Angel, in his panic, started to squeeze him too tightly. Cordy moved even closer.

“Yeah. I had a vision,” she confirmed, rubbing the baby’s back softly. “I had a vision of you and Connor, all cozy and comfy and happy. And then I had a vision of me, getting sloppy drunk and spilling God knows what on my brand new dress and then swapping spit with God knows who at midnight.” Cordelia snaked her arms under Angel’s and scooped the baby out of his arms. “So I figured, why bother? Why stick around there when I’d much rather be—uh, Connor!” she groaned good-naturedly, as his drool started to run down her bare arm.

Angel used his sleeve to wipe her off. “You’d much rather be…” he prompted.

Cordy flashed a quick grin. “Be here, dummy. I’d rather be here, crashing your Boys Night.” Angel’s heart somersaulted in his chest. Utterly unaware of his cardiac acrobatics, Cordelia stepped away and raised the baby above her head.

“How bout that sweetie? Do you mind if your Aunt Cordy hangs out here for a while? Huh? I’m not so bad, even if I am a girl. I’m younger than your daddy AND Dick Clark, so I’m pretty much your best option.” Connor waved his arms down at her and blew a bubble.

Cordy turned back to Angel. “Oh, spit bubble. That means yes! I’m staying.” She brought the baby back against her chest and started attacking his entire face with kisses. He wondered in what language blowing a bubble was a valid form of communication.

Angel stood immobile as Cordelia grabbed Connor’s half empty bottle and kicked off her heels. He didn’t say a word when she situated herself on the bed like she owned the place. He barely blinked when half the carefully placed pillows ended up on the floor in her frantic search for the remote control.

Cordelia leaned back against the headboard and cuddled Connor to her breasts. Angel heard her hum the first few bars of “Keep on Loving You,” and he closed his eyes. What the hell is going on? I had this whole night planned. It was going to be mostly brooding, followed by contemplating my misery. And then she walks in and ruins the whole thing. What is she doing here? She said she’d rather be here than at the party. But what does that mean? She’s looking pretty cozy on my bed. What does THAT mean? That’s it. This is too confusing. I'm beyond crazy now. God I hate this woman.

“So Angel,” Cordy drawled, smiling at him brightly and patting the empty spot next to her. “What are we watching?”

God I love this woman. “Whatever you want,” he said simply. "Whatever you want, Cordelia."


Part 6

This is nice Angel thought. This is really, really nice. But…. Angel had never been so conflicted. He’d never been so content and so unsatisfied AT THE SAME TIME.

On one hand, the situation couldn’t get much better. He was, after all, lying in bed with Cordelia. She was leaning on his shoulder, close enough so that the smell of her hair filled his senses. Then there was the solid weight of Connor, sleeping soundly in Angel’s arms. All that AND Cordelia had consented to watching “Roman Holiday” on AMC.

On the other hand, the situation could be a lot better. Connor could be in his crib, or better yet, with a babysitter. Instead of Audrey Hepburn’s lilting voice, they could be listening to a little mood music, courtesy of Mister Marvin Gaye. Oh, and Cordy could be naked. That would make this situation infinitely better.

But it was what it was. There’s nothing I can do to change it. I just need to except that this is as good as things are going to get. After nearly two hours of this, Angel’s disenchantment was growing, overriding the muted pleasure he’d had from the press of Cordy’s breast against his arm. He should be enjoying this…but it’s not enough.

Cordy gasped and clutched at Angel’s hand as they watched a stoic Gregory Peck say goodbye to the princess he’d fallen in love with. Angel felt his pain. I’ve certainly been there and done that. It sucks. But whatcha gonna do?

It’s not like Angel wanted to be Gregory Peck this time. It’s not like he wanted to walk away from love, from a chance at happiness. AGAIN. But what other choice do I have? Cordelia wants a life, she deserves a life, that I can’t give her. She’s already sacrificed so much for me. I can’t ask her to give up more. Plus, there’s that whole part where she might not even like me like that.

The screen faded to black and Angel turned to Cordelia, just in time to catch her quickly wipe at her eyes. And she told me “Rudy” was the only movie that made her cry. Angel decided to take the higher ground and not comment on her tears.

“So you were right,” she said after a minute. Her voice still sounded a tad sniffly to Angel’s sensitive ears. “It was a really good movie.”

“I knew you would like it,” Angel told her. “And you wanted to watch that Pajama Jammy-Jam on MTV.”

“Hello, I already said you were right,” she sat up so she wasn’t leaning on him. “That guy?”

“Gregory Peck,” Angel filled in.

“Yeah. He was actually pretty cute. The two of them looked so good together. I don’t get it.”

“What don’t you get?”

“I mean, couldn’t they have found some way to be together? I, I don’t understand.”

Angel sighed. “Cordy, they were two very different people—”

“Who made each other happy,” she interjected. “Her face, when she looked at him, you could tell she…I don’t care how different they were. They were meant to be together. That’s so obvious.”

“She put what was right before her own personal happiness. It was noble of her,” Angel defended.

Cordelia snorted. “It was stupid. What’s more right than following your heart?” She looked down at the sleeping baby on his chest and then back up at him. “If there’s one thing in this world worth fighting for Angel, it’s love.”

He didn’t know exactly what to say. Cordy had never really been asked to fight for love. It’s not as easy as it sounds. There’s the fear—that’s inherent when you’re offering yourself to someone. Making yourself vulnerable like that. Risking it all. Then there’s more fear. And self-doubt. And did I mention the crippling fear? At least Gregory Peck knew how Audrey Hepburn felt about him. Try fighting for love when you have no idea if the woman loves you back.

But Angel liked that Cordelia really believed that, that even with all her bad luck in the romance department, she felt like love was worth the risk. Maybe she’s right. Maybe not trying and not knowing is worse than the rejection. Maybe now’s the time to finally do something.

Angel’s hand rubbed down Connor’s back as he tried to gather his courage.

“Cordelia?”

“Yes?” She must have sensed something in his tone because her voice suddenly got lower.

BRRRING!

The noise shocked them both. It seemed to echo off the walls of Angel’s bedroom. Cordy was off the bed like a rocket, determined to answer her cell phone before it woke Connor up. Angel exhaled slowly. Maybe now’s not the time. He reached for the remote and turned the TV off, moving as little as possible so as to not wake the baby.

“Hello?” Cordy said into the phone, moving toward the other side of the room. “What? Oh hey Marissa. I can barely hear you.” Cordy looked over at Angel on the bed. She raised one finger, indicating she would just be a minute. He nodded. It didn’t really matter anymore. That phone call was a sign.

“No Marissa, I can’t talk louder. Well because the baby’s sleeping and Angel will kill me if he wakes up again.” She smiled widely at him. Angel didn’t contradict her.

“Shut up. I do not sound like a housewife,” Cordy complained. Angel ignored the sweet surge he got when he heard that.

“Yeah, I looked for you before I left. When? A little before midnight.” Cordy paused for a moment to listen. She was making a strange motion with her hand. It looked like it was supposed to be a quacking duck. She wants to play shadow puppets? Oh, wait, I get it, she’s saying her friend talks a lot. See. I’m not a social retard. Little slow on the pick up, but I always get it in the end.

“So what does he do?” Cordy asked her friend. “Really? For Paramount? Wow. Speaks four languages? His own plane? Geez.”

Over the drone of Cordy’s one-sided conversation and the gentle hum of Connor’s breathing, Angel’s vampiric hearing picked something else up. It was Lorne, coming up the hotel stairs and humming. I know that song. It’s the one about being dirty. It’s by that girl, the one Gunn likes, who always looks so…dirty.

“Three cases of Dom Perignon? And four cases of Crystal? Wow,” Cordy was still talking. “Yeah, I’m sorry I missed that. Oh he was there? Of course I think he’s hot—those brown eyes of his make me quiver. Did you? God it seems like ages since I’ve even been alone with a guy.”

Suddenly Angel got an idea. Even if coming over had been her choice, Angel wanted a chance to make it up to her. Now I might not have a plane. But if Cordelia wants to be alone with a guy who speaks four languages and has brown eyes—I’m her man. Minus the plane. There wasn’t much Angel could give Cordelia. But he could give her this.

He shifted the baby to his left side, picked up the collapsible crib from where it rested against the wall and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Cordy whispered, her hand over the phone’s mouthpiece. “I’ll be off in a sec.”

“I’ll be right back,” Angel told her as he shut the door behind him. He walked quickly down the hall to Lorne’s room. Since his hands were full, he knocked his forehead twice against the door. It took Lorne a long time to open it.

“Angel. Light of my life. Apple of my eye. Cream in my coffee. Fuzz on my peach.”

Angel wasn’t sure why, but that last one sounded dirty.

“Hey Lorne, can I come in?” he asked, already stepping through the threshold.

“But of course,” the demon said, stepping to the side.

“So how was your night?” Angel politely asked, eyeing Lorne carefully. His hair was ruffled and his eyes were pretty glassy, but other than that, he didn’t look any worse for the wear.

“Well I somehow ended up with a Neelock demon’s panties. How do you think my night went?” Lorne nearly doubled over in laughter. “But I’m sure you’re not here for naughty stories. What can I do for you?”

“Listen.” Angel silently debated what he was about to do. Sure Lorne’s drunk. But he’s not “falling down drunk.” “I was wondering…could you watch Connor? He’s down and he should be out for a while. I have—”

Lorne cut him off. “A-ha! I thought I heard someone of the female persuasion inside Casa De Angel. Finally putting that permanent soul to use, are we?”

“Look Lorne, will you do it or not?”

“Sure, why not,” he agreed, taking the crib from Angel and setting it up. “I’m just glad you’re finally getting some action. To tell you the truth crumbcake, I figured you’d be too busy mooning over your Seer to go out and meet anyone new.”

“How’d you—”

“Oh please,” Lorne huffed. “It was more obvious than the homoeroticism on ‘Smallville.’ Anyhoo, I just thought you’d spend a lot more time doing the dance of the unrequited for the lovely Cordelia. So,” Lorne asked, reaching for the sleeping Connor, “who is the mystery woman? Do I know her?”

Angel smiled. “Yes.”

Lorne’s eyes went wide. “Really? That client from Beverly Hills, the blonde one?”

“Nope.”

“Wait, don’t tell me, the girl from the coffee place?”

“Wrong again.”

Lorne thought for a minute. “It’s not that skinny waitress who used to work at Caritas is it? Cause I should warn you, I spent some ‘time’ with her once and the next morning I was itching EVERYWHERE and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone and…wait a second. It’s not…I mean, it couldn’t be…Cordelia?”

Angel didn’t say anything, but the wide smile that spread across his face told Lorne he was right. The Pylean just stood there, blinking.

“Well why the hell are you just standing around in here?” Lorne exclaimed, slapping Angel on the back of the head with his baby-free hand. “What, you’d rather play ‘Twenty Questions’ with me when you and Cordy could be making beautiful music together? Go. Now.”

Angel turned to leave.

“Wait. Stop.” Lorne put the baby in the crib and grabbed the unopened bottle of champagne on his dresser. “Here,” he said, presenting it to Angel. “It’s chilled, I brought it back with me. I was saving this for morning—you know, a little hair of the dog to fight the hangover? But you need this much more than I do. And glasses, you need glasses…” Lorne went over to the pile of boxes by the window. He rummaged for a moment, and returned with two gleaming champagne glasses. “I rescued these babies from my burned-out shell of a club. Enjoy.”

“I…Thanks Lorne.”

“No problem Powder-Puff,” Lorne said, pushing Angel out into the hall. “Oh and Angel-heart? For God’s sake, try to be cool.”

Be cool. Be cool. Be cool Angel chanted as he strode purposefully back to his room. Cordy wanted to spend the evening with some suave super-stud. That means no stuttering. No getting caught staring. No, absolutely no, drooling.

When Angel walked back in, Cordelia was over by the window, looking down at the street below. She turned when she heard him.

“Angel, where’d you—Woah. What is that?” she asked, gesturing to the bottle in his hand.

He shrugged. “Exactly what it looks like. You, uh, yesterday you said you wanted a guy to surprise you with champagne and strawberries.” Didn’t I just say NO STUTTERING.

Cordy looked at him quizzically. “Where’s Connor?”

“With Lorne,” Angel said simply, putting the glasses down and setting to work opening the bottle. The cork didn’t fly too far and Angel managed to fill the glasses without making too much of a mess. Yeah that’s right. That was coolness personified. I’m Joe Cool. I’m James Fucking Bond.

Smiling now, Cordy moved to sit back down on the bed. “You know, I never figured you for a champagne and strawberries kind of guy.”

Angel handed her the glass. “Actually, no strawberries. And I can’t vouch for the champagne either—it’s Lorne’s. Best I could do at the last minute.”

Cordelia waved off his apology. “Strawberries are out of season anyway.” Angel walked around the bed and sat down gingerly on the other side.

He turned to her and raised his glass. “Cheers.”

Cordy flashed on of those huge, blindingly bright smiles. “Cheers.” They both took a small sip.

Angel made a face. “Not exactly Dom Perignon, is it?”

“I think it’s nice,” she told him, taking another sip. “But why—not that I don’t appreciate it—but why do all this?”

“I don’t know.” Because I love you. I’m doing this because I love you, you silly stupid girl. Angel put his glass on the nightstand before he had a chance to spill it all over himself. “We both know you could be at that party right now. You should be there. But you’re not. You gave that up and—”

“Angel, I…I wasn’t having that much fun at the party.”

“I’m sorry,” Angel told her. He meant it. More than anything, he just wanted Cordelia happy. Even if her happiness often seemed to directly conflict with his. “I’m sorry this night didn’t go the way you wanted.”

Cordy chuckled softly to herself and took a sip of champagne. He could see her swirl the liquid around in her mouth, before finally swallowing.

“The weird thing is, Angel, I think it did. End the way I wanted, I mean.” There was a TING as she put the glass down on the nightstand next to her. She turned to him, not surprised to find him staring at her intently.

“Maybe it’s the champagne talking,” she said, catching the disbelieving look Angel shot her. “Okay, okay, maybe it’s the 3 Sour Apple Martinis from earlier AND the champagne talking. But that party tonight, it wasn’t what I wanted.” Cordelia paused and the mask of confidence seemed to slip just a little.

“I don’t think that life is what I want,” she confided, sounding slightly upset. She turned back to the nightstand but she didn’t pick up the champagne. She just ran her finger in lazy circles around the rim of the glass. “It’s like, like somewhere, when I wasn’t paying attention, everything just…changed. Does that make any sense at all?”

“Sure.” It made perfect sense to Angel. I could write a book on what it feels like to have your dreams change without you even noticing. Okay, maybe not an entire book. But a damn good article. Something for “The New Yorker” maybe? About a guy who’s too busy saving the world to notice that he’s falling in love with his best friend.

Cordy cleared her throat. “Lately I’ve been coming to these conclusions, and they were…I don’t know.” She ran both hands through her hair in frustration. “They were scary. And I wasn’t sure. But tonight, it just got…clear.” She paused. “How ‘bout that? Did that make sense?”

“Yeah.” Cordelia gave him a disbelieving look. “Okay, no, not really.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t want my own TV show, or a Golden Globe,” she told him. “Despite the fact that the visions are causing premature aging and you pay me slave wages, I want to help people Angel. I like knowing that I make a difference. You and I, and Wes and Gunn and Fred, all of us, what we do matters.”

Her rant was really picking up speed now. “So I don’t want fame and public adoration. And I don’t want caviar and canapés. I don’t even like caviar. I like Gunn’s Strawberry Pop-Tarts. I like Taco-Bell runs with Fred. I like high-fat omelets with tons of extra cheese.”

“And, Angel, tonight I…” she started and then seemed to hesitate. It was odd to see her like this. Cordelia was rarely hesitant. “Tonight I didn’t want Dom Perignon or small talk or sleazy producers copping cheap feels.” Her eyes flicked anxiously around the room before finally settling back on him. “I wanted Dick Clark on TV, and, and baby snuggles, and…you."

“Me?” Angel squeaked.

“You. This,” she gestured to both of them. “Us.”

Cordelia looked nervous. Looking at her, perched next to him on the bed, all Angel could think was how unsure and young she seemed. It was a rare reminder that Cordy was not yet 21, that there was still some girl inside the woman. He didn’t get those often.

Angel was struck by her innocence. She shouldn’t look innocent, not after all she’d seen and been through. Certainly not in the outfit she was wearing. But with her bare feet tucked under her, the fancy dress hitched up over her knees, and most of the polish and shine rubbed off, Cordelia was a picture of artless purity.

“So…you see, this night, it did go the way I wanted. I am where I want to be.” Cordy started twisting and untwisting a lock of hair. Finally, finally she looked at him. Her eyes were afraid, but unflinching. She breathed in deeply, like she was gathering courage. “The only question is, are you?

Angel froze. He’d dreamed of this. Wished for it innumerable times. But he’d never expected it. And he had absolutely no idea how to react. What’s the protocol for dying of happiness?

Because right then, in that moment, Angel was happier than he’d ever been. This was happening. This was Cordelia. Beautiful brilliant Cordelia, sitting on his bed and telling him that was where she wanted to be, along with everything that implied.

Beautiful brilliant Cordelia who was still waiting for his answer. What do I do? What do I say? Calm down. Take it slow. Slow was good. He didn’t want to rush this. He wanted this moment to be perfect. He didn’t want to ruin this.

Angel reached out, taking her trembling hand out of the knot she was twisting in her hair and clasping it between both of his. He couldn’t help but glance down at their joined hands. Her skin kissed by the sun, his glazed in moonlight. The light throb of life through her fingers, warming the borrowed blood in his. Their hands were so different. They were so different. It shouldn’t work but it did. It should feel strange, but all it felt was right. Angel held Cordelia’s hand in his and something inside of him shifted. Nerves, fear, worry…it all faded. This was happening and this was good and this was right.

“Angel?” she said, and he heard the hitch in her voice. Angel wanted to laugh. Cordy knew him better than anyone. She could read him like a book. Except when it came this. Them. He wanted to laugh, but he wouldn’t. There would be time for laughing later. “Are you where you want to be?” she asked again.

He looked up from their hands. “No,” he said simply.

Cordelia’s breath caught. She started blinking rapidly, forcing her mouth into a tiny, tight smile. She tried to tug her hand back, but Angel kept it in the firm grip of his left hand. With his right, he took both of Cordy’s ankles and slid her legs out from under her. Then slowly, so slowly, he pressed down on her shoulder, so she was lying on her back. It was only then he let go of her hand.

He looked down at her and she looked up at him, her eyes glassy and confused. They went wide when Angel suddenly moved, sliding over so he was on top of Cordelia. He kept most of his weight off, balancing on his hands, so their bodies barely touched, his brushing like a kiss over hers.

“I wanted it to be more like this,” Angel told Cordelia smugly. Then he leaned up farther so he could watch her face when it sunk in, when she realized what his words meant. It was a beautiful thing.

She exhaled harshly, in pure relief. Her eyes scrunched closed and Angel only watched, intently, as one tear escaped and rolled onto her cheekbone. Color that had drained out of her face rushed back in. And then her eyes were fluttering open and they were shining and it was for him and all he could do was watch.

“You…” Cordy started and then she stopped. She shook her head and looked pained, like she couldn’t believe that she, Cordelia Chase, was flubbing the most important lines of her life. “I…you…” Her brow furrowed, her annoyance with herself apparent.

Angel grinned. “Were you expecting someone else?” he said, the way she had earlier. Cordelia let one broken laugh escape. Angel, balancing on one hand, used the other to wipe at the tear with the pad of his thumb.

“Angel,” she attempted again, but got no further.

“Shhhhh,” he soothed. “I know,” he told her.

Cordy saw that yes, he did know, and only then did she smile, entrancing as it always was, but this time, so much more. She was laying herself bare for him. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and Angel saw something mischievious spark in her eyes.

“They say how you spend New Year’s Eve determines the next 365 days of your life,” she kidded.

“I have heard that.” Angel nodded thoughtfully, pretending to consider her words. He glanced over at the red illuminated numbers on the clock. “But it’s 12:30. It’s not New Year’s Eve anymore,” he pointed out.

“Angel,” she pouted.

“Well, better late than never I guess,” he mumbled as he leaned down and kissed her.


Part 7

More than anything, it was sweet. It was sweet and it was gentle. Tentative in the way that first kisses are. Lip softly caressed lip. Beyond that, neither of them moved. She’s so soft. Angel was momentarily surprised by the softness. Cordelia spoke with so much bite. Her words were sharp and caustic, she could twist that mouth of hers into such a cruelly beautiful sneer—it made the unexpected softness all the more awesome. Imbued her with a rare fragility that Angel found tantalizing.

And Christ, the taste of her. One taste and he was gone. Cordelia tasted like champagne and summertime. And beneath that, subtle but still there, she tasted like sunset. Like the air as it shifted and shimmered into night. She nipped lightly at his top lip and Angel barely held back his groan. His tongue darted out and traced the seam of Cordelia’s lips, making her shudder. And then her lips parted. It was an unspoken invitation. She wanted him to come inside.

Angel accepted, tilting his head and changing the angle of the kiss, his tongue sweeping through the cavern of her mouth. Inside, she was even softer. Warmer.

Cordy’s arms lifted, locking around his neck, and when that wasn’t enough, fisting her hands in Angel’s hair. Her nails dug into his scalp and she pulled hard, moaning when Angel reared up slightly before plunging back inside her mouth. His weight was almost fully on her now, pushing her down into the mattress, covering her. Even through their clothes, her body heat drew him in. It screamed at Angel to get closer, to push down and into her and never leave. Angel tried to control the urges. It’s too fast. Too soon. Not yet he chanted silently.

The press of Angel’s body on hers was getting to Cordelia and she seemed to have none of his reservations about going too fast. Her foot started to rub insistently against the back of his calf. Her chest pushed up against his and Angel could feel her nipples pebble from the onslaught of sensation. He caressed her cheekbone with his thumb then slid his hand down to her slender neck. Her pulse pounded against the palm of his hand and beat like a drum through his entire body. Never once did they break the kiss.

Cordy was trembling now, and making tiny meowling sounds in the back of her throat. I did that. I’m making her shake. She feels this way because of me. The thrill shot through him, the power of his conquest. She moaned again, louder and Angel ate at her mouth, swallowing the sound and everything else he could suck out of her, because right then it seemed like nothing would be ever enough to assuage his hunger.

Suddenly Cordelia’s head arched up, dragging her mouth away from his, ending the kiss. Their lips made a soft wet smack as contact broke. No. She can’t. We’re not done. Angel needed to reclaim what was his. His head started to follow after her, until he noticed the way she was gasping for breath, the feel of her hands as they pushed ineffectually against his shoulders. Ooops. Forgot about that pesky "humans need to breath" rule.

While she sucked in greedy pants of air, Angel scooted down, running soft kisses along the perfect line of her neck. He was sucking softly on the underside of her chin when he felt the laughter start to build inside her. Suddenly giggles burst out of Cordelia’s mouth, a wind chime of delight that Angel found both charming and a tad insulting. I’m putting the moves on her and she’s laughing. I have a hard time believing that’s a good thing.

He pushed up, moving to rest on his haunches, so he could get a better look. Angel forced the waves of lust back down to a slow simmer. Her eyes glowed up at him, open in a way they’d never been before. They enchanted Angel, forcing him to forgive the interruption.

“Hi,” she finally said in a low voice, lazily brushing the hair out her eyes.

“Hi,” he said, grinning.

She started to laugh again. Angel pouted, but remained where he was, situated primly on his knees between her spread thighs.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. She planted her arms on the mattress, pushed up and gave him a light kiss on the chin, before flopping back onto the bed. “So…” she said, tapping her fingers on her stomach.

Angel climbed out of the V of her legs and lay down on his side next to her. “So…” He had no idea where she was going with this. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Cordelia had switched from lusty vixen to adorable kitten so quickly.

He suddenly felt dazed and unsure. He wanted her so badly. The desperateness of Angel’s need thundered through his body. He wanted to taste and claim every inch of her. He wanted to climb back on top of her and pound into her, deeper than anyone had before. I’m wrestling with all of that, and she’s laughing?

“So I was thinking,” Cordy said, turning on her side to face him. She trailed one long finger down his arm.

“Thinking?” Angel repeated, stopping her descent and pulling her hand to his lips, nuzzling at her knuckles. He didn’t understand the teasing.

“Yes. I try to occasionally indulge in it,” she retorted, not objecting when Angel hauled her over and on top of him. She licked her lips when he grabbed her hips so that his hardness snuggled contently between her legs.

“It’s a terrible habit,” he murmured as his hand curved around Cordelia’s neck, bringing her mouth down. She let him lazily explore her mouth for a moment before wriggling out of his grasp. Why does she keep doing that? I want her. She wants me. What’s the problem? What game is she playing?

“I was thinking,” Cordy announced, fingering the unbuttoned collar of his shirt, “that we are both wearing way too many clothes.” Angel’s cock twitched involuntarily at that. He knew she felt it, saw the way her perfect eyebrow raised in recognition of the effect she had on him.

“I like the way you think.” Angel’s voice sounded rusty and strained, even to him.

“I thought you might.” Cordelia leaned down to look him directly in the eyes, so close their noses nudged each other. Then she gave him a smacking kiss on the lips and clambered off of him.

Angel felt lost—suddenly, desperately, out of his element. She wanted him. He knew that. But the bawdy playfulness of her actions puzzled him, directly contrasting the strangling urgency of Angel’s own need. And then, suddenly, he realized.

Angel had been with only two other women he cared about, and with them, it was always an act marked by desperation. With Buffy and Darla, sex had been about losing himself. Making love to escape. It was devastating and it was searing, but in the end, it was solitary.

Cordy wasn’t playing any games. Angel was just horribly new to what they were doing. He should have known it wouldn’t be like that with Cordelia. He should have guessed that making love to this woman would be very much like the woman herself.

There would be desperation, and want and need. Sure. That was a given. But there would also be room for the unexpected. For laughter. For comfortableness. For total acceptance. We’re not losing ourselves in each other. We’re coming together.

The uncertainty fell away. Angel had been with Cordelia long enough. He knew how to wade through the unknown. Just follow her lead. Although it is ironic. I’ve been with hundreds of women. Done things that would shock the hell out of her. And yet, now, I’m the inexperienced one. Typical.

Cordy struggled into an upright position and presented her back to him. She slowly removed the clips from her hair and put them on the table. Angel lay there, drinking in her graceful motions. Next came the earrings and the bracelet.

Finally she glanced back at him, in much the same way she had the day before. This time, however, she didn’t ask about back fat. She flashed him a sultry glance.

“Unzip me,” she requested.

Angel immediately sat up and scooted over to sit behind her. He pretended not to notice the way his hands were shaking. The zipper was actually on the side of the dress, since the garment had no back to speak of. She could have done this herself. But I like this way better.

He tugged the zipper down, resting one hand on the exposed skin of her back. Cordelia shivered deliciously.

“Cool hands,” she commented. But she didn’t seem to mind. So Angel went ahead and brushed a series of kisses along her shoulders. “Mmmm, cool lips,” she said. Yeah, she’s definitely not minding this.

Cordy stood up and shimmied out of the dress. It pooled in a puddle at her feet, and she kicked it indelicately to the side. Oh that really needs to be hung up. Angel opened his mouth to object to her treatment of the dress.

“Don’t even think about it,” Cordy warned, reading his mind. She turned around and mock-glared down at him. Angel’s entire body went rigid with lust.

This, this was the real Cordelia. Standing there, hands on her hips, wearing nothing but a sexy smirk, a black strapless bra, and matching low-cut panties. This was what boys grew into men dreaming about. This is what I’ve been dreaming about. For much longer than I care to admit.

“You’re staring,” Cordy told him. She preened a little.

“Yes I am,” Angel baldly admitted.

“You’re also a little overdressed,” she reminded.

In the flash of an eye, without ever getting off the bed, Angel was sitting there before her in nothing but his black boxers. Cordy looked him over appreciatively. He wondered if she realized she had licked her lips. She came over to stand between his legs, her hands lightly resting on his shoulders.

“Oh my God, Gunn was right,” she announced with a giggle. Angel froze. What is Gunn right about? Is something wrong with my body? Wait, why would Gunn be discussing my body with Cordy? This is very troubling.

“Gunn completely called it—we are starting to dress alike,” Cordelia said. Angel only frowned. “See. Cause we’re both wearing black now,” she explained. Angel attempted to pull her down on the bed, but she quickly stepped out of his reach. “I’m not done yet.”

Cordy reached both hands behind her. He heard a snap and then her bra fell to the floor. Her breasts spilled out and he almost passed out when he saw the firm tanned globes with their dusky pink tips. Gunn was right about that too. They are more than a mouthful. Angel couldn’t help it, a small moan escaped. Cordelia smiled like the witch that she was, completely aware of the spell she weaved around him.

She bent over and pulled her tiny scrap of underwear off. “So,” she said as she straightened, “what do—Ahhhhh” she squealed as Angel wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged.

His mouth and body were on her before Cordelia knew what was happening. Angel got the distinct impression that that although she was slightly peeved at no longer being in the drivers seat, Cordy was also turned on by his taking control. I’ll have to try that more often.

The slow deep kisses from before had morphed into something different. Hotter. Harder. Faster. Everything was so much faster now. Her pulse. His hands. They rushed all over her. He ran them down her arms, smoothed them over her hips, and then traveled upwards, where he filled his hands with her breasts. She arched up into his touch.

“Oh God,” Cordy cried out before his tongue invaded her mouth again.

He rubbed his thumbs over her tight nipples. They seemed to swell even more under his touch. He increased the pressure slightly, pinching them between his fingers just hard enough and Cordelia gasped. Then she retaliated by biting down viciously on his lower lip. Angel nearly came right then. I. Love. This. Woman.

His touches took on a slightly frantic edge. He could smell Cordelia now. Her arousal, her heat. It taunted Angel, reminding him of where he really wanted to be. He snaked his arm southward, cupping her mound, pushing his down and rubbing against her. He nibbled lazily down her throat while Cordy mumbled incoherent praises. Angel took a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, and she choked back a scream.

Angel was moving faster than he planned. He’d wanted to take his time. Learn her body. Appreciate and plunder every single inch of her. But here, now, so close to the fire, Angel found himself letting his noble intentions burn with him.

Cordelia’s hips were moving against him as she fiercely ground herself against his palm. Angel couldn’t wait any longer. He slid his hand a little bit lower. She was soaking wet. He parted her outer lips and one long cool finger slipped inside of her. This time, Cordy did scream.

Another finger joined the first. Her body jerked at the onslaught of his strokes. Angel felt her inner walls clench around his digits. She’s so tight. Inside, she was raw silk. The scent of Cordelia’s sex perfumed the air, her essence blanketed them like a fine mist and he was suddenly overcome with the desire to taste her. He wanted her on his tongue.

Angel let the nipple slid out of his mouth. He had kissed halfway down her stomach when she suddenly grabbed his head, stopping his descent.

“Uh-uh,” she shook her head. “We can take the scenic route next time,” Cordelia informed him, dragging him up her body. “I want you inside me when I come.” Angel considered this for the required half a second. She wants me inside of her. Who am I to argue with that?

He hurried to do her bidding, quickly wiggling out of his boxers. His cock twitched when it came in contact with the damp, scorching heart of her. He sank smoothly into her and then everything stopped.

Angel sucked in an unnecessary breath. His entire world narrowed, focused, into all that there was, all that existed, was the tight wet warmth that surrounded him. He fought for strength, fought to keep totally still and make this moment last as long as possible. Angel wanted to memorize it all. The damp friction of her skin on his. Her short hot pants against his cheek. The scents that swirled in and around them.

But most of all, he wanted to memorize the perfect way her body gloved him. They fit. Lock and key. Like she had been crafted for only this purpose. Built for pleasure. Built for him.

Then Cordelia moved. Not much. She just tested, experimentally wiggled her hips a half inch to the right. That was all it took.

There was a roar of sound in Angel’s head and then he was pumping into her, like a piston, hard and deep. Cordy bucked once and her mouth opened in a silent scream. Then she reared up to meet his thrusts. She slipped into the dance so perfectly, so sweetly. Because this is right. Because we fit.

He dove further and harder, quickening the pace and feeling her quiver as she took even more of him inside her. Cordelia’s face was flushed, her eyes shut tight against the waves of pleasure he pounded into her.

“Cordelia,” Angel ground out as she spread her legs wider, settling them higher on his back. “I love you,” he told her, never once breaking the rhythm of their bodies.

“Oh God,” she breathed, trembling as Angel hit that spot, that perfect spot.

Angel struggled for patience. He was so close to losing it. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Cordy,” he growled, “do you love me?” Angel was in gameface now. He wasn’t sure when he’d changed but there was little he could do about it. Besides, maybe it’s better this way. It was only fair to remind her what she was getting into. Love the man, love the vampire.

Finally she opened her eyes. She gently cupped his cheek, forcing him to meet her stare, to see the depth of emotion swirling inside of her.

“What are you, stupid?” Cordelia panted. “Of course I love you,” she told him as she pulled him down into a voracious kiss. Ignoring the fangs, she delicately attacked him with teeth and tongue. Angel felt that last thread of control as it slipped away.

So close. We’re both so close. He slid one hand between them, over damp flesh to the spot where their bodies met. He expertly pressed a finger against the small bundle of nerves. Cordelia screamed into his mouth as his motions sent a shockwave through her body. She tightened and shuddered around his cock and then exploded over him. Angel managed one more thrust and then he was lost. With a groan, he spent himself inside of her.

Angel’s last coherent, before he slipped away into the throbbing red haze, was that, in the span of one night, his entire world had changed.


Epilogue

Ironically, when Angel woke up to 2002, the world was very much the same. He was still a vampire. His Seer still suffered painful visions that seemed to be getting progressively worse. Wolfram and Hart was still a threat, Holtz was still hell-bent on vengeance.

But there was also a warm, naked brunette sprawled on top of him. Not a bad way to start the new year. Not bad at all.

As sleep fell away and his awareness of Cordelia grew, Angel felt his body begin to respond. Everywhere they touched, he consciously felt the heat seeping in. His skin prickled at the feel of her deep even breaths on his neck. His penis “woke up” too, nudging against the cleft between her legs. He glanced down at the delectable curves, curves he’d finally, FINALLY gotten a chance to appreciate. So much to explore. Where to begin?

Angel was debating how best to wake his sleeping beauty when the rest of the world went and did it for him. Suddenly there were babies crying and green demons humming soothing lullabies and Pylean refugees yelping “I’m gonna puke” and sprinting for the bathroom.

“Not yet,” Cordelia moaned and ungracefully rolled off of him.

Angel smiled and turned to lay on his side. “Time to get up.”

She mumbled an obscenity regarding the legitimacy of his birth and buried her face in the pillow. Instead of taking offense, Angel took the opportunity to admire her backside. She may be a tad grumpy, but will you look at that ass?

After a few more minutes of appreciation, Angel wisely decided to leave her alone for the time being. He pulled the sheet up over her shoulder and said a wistful, silent farewell to that fabulous ass. I’ll be seeing more of you later.

He rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. Looks like it’s going to be another cold one. Or I’ll never get anything done around here. Angel nearly jumped out of his skin as the icy water rained down on him. What’s wrong with this picture? She loves me. I love her. The curse is history. My days of cold showers should be over.

When Angel walked out of the bathroom, wrapping the fluffy white towel around his waist, he found Cordelia still sleeping. Only now she was lying on her back. And she’d kicked off the sheet. Angel numbly slipped on his boxers, never once taking his eyes of her slumbering body.

“Morning sunshine,” he called out as he went to the closet to grab some pants. He blindly grabbed a pair, because looking at pants meant not looking at Cordelia. And that simply wasn’t an option.

“Morning already?” she asked in a husky, sleepy voice, eyes still tightly closed. She yawned and stretched that long golden body of hers. Angel dropped the pants.

Once they were on and securely fastened, he sat down on the bed. He brushed the hair out of Cordy’s eyes. She gave him a lazy grin and nuzzled against his hand. He couldn’t help it. He had to kiss her.

“Mmmm, minty,” Cordelia murmured into his mouth, eyes still closed. He lost himself in the perfect slip-slide of tongue and lip. Her hand came up, pulling him down toward her, running through his still-damp hair. Then her eyes opened and she ended the kiss.

“You took a shower without me,” Cordy accused. Angel grinned. Somehow that whine of hers is much less annoying when she’s not wearing any clothes. And that pouty lip is starting to give me ideas.

“Next time,” Angel told her. He kissed the tip of her nose and stood up.

“Whatever,” Cordelia grumbled. “I doubt the two of us could even fit in there anyway. Not with that fat ass of yours.” Since said ass was within her reach, she reached out and gave it a smack.

“Excuse me? MY ass is fat?” Angel wagged his finger at her. “I’m not the one who can’t fit into my clothes,” he pointed out uncharitably. Although my pants are starting to feel a little tight in the crotch. She does realize that she’s naked, doesn’t she?

Indignant, Cordy hopped out of bed. Disregarding modesty entirely, she stood right in front of him, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently.

“Listen buddy, I have it on good authority that I. Am. Perfectly. Proportional.” She jabbed him in the chest several times for emphasis. Angel growled, grabbed her poking hand and used it to yank her up against him.

“Proportional?” Angel pretended not to remember. “Really? Who told you that?” he asked as he ran his hands up and down her bare back.

“Some guy,” Cordy said nonchalantly, circling his nipple with her index finger. “I think he’s in love with me,” she stage whispered.

Angel raised an eyebrow. “Now, that’s funny.” He let his hands drift down to the firm globes of her ass. He squeezed. She squeaked. “See, because I heard that YOU were the one who was in love with HIM.”

“I wonder who’s starting all these vicious rumors?” Cordy opined. She twined her arms around his neck.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Angel blurted out just before his lips descended. Suddenly they heard the baby wail again, this time closer than before. They broke apart just as there was a knock on the door.

“I hate to interrupt,” Lorne called out, “but I think it’s feeding time.”

Angel groaned and leaned down to rest his forehead against Cordelia’s.

“That’s all you Daddy,” he heard her say. “Go.” Angel pulled away, frowning.

“I don’t wanna go,” he whined. This would be a lot easier if she wasn’t so lacking in the clothes department.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Cordy assured him. I’ll hop in the shower and be down in five minutes.”

“Angel Eyes,” Lorne said through the door, “the miracle child is hungry.”

“I’m coming,” Angel grumbled as he headed for the door.

“Angel.” Angel whipped around to see what she needed. “The miracle Seer is a little hungry too,” she informed him.

He wasn’t surprised. “Omelet?”

Cordelia nodded. “Oh, one more thing,” she said, jogging over to him. Angel smiled. Ooooo. Bouncy. She gave him a quick devastating kiss but stepped away before he could put his arms around her.

“Don’t forget Angel. I want extra cheese.”

End.