Title: A Slave to the Mission
Author: ophelia
Posted: 07-18-2002
Rating: PG
Email:
Content:
Summary: Just another conversation fic
Spoilers:
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, ME owns all. Yada, Yada, Yada
Distribution: The lovely Florrie may have
Notes: I'm sorry, I know I should be writing The Spark...but this was an old unfinished ficlet that just caught my eye tonight. I think it was inspired by the notorious "wet shirt" photo of DB.
Feedback:
“Angel, what are you doing?”
“What?”
“WHAT are you DOING?”
“Uhm…is this a trick question, Cordelia?”
“You can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because…well…..just. UGH! It’s…it’s highly improper. It’s something that must not be done!”
“Cordelia, it’s my shirt. It’s wet and ripped and I want to take it off now…..and by the way, you’ve been spending too much with Wes.”
“Wesley?”
“It’s improper?”
“Shut up.”
“Gladly.”
“Angel, stop!”
“I just said I would stop talking. You’re the one not letting me!”
“No, not “stop” talking…though that would work too….STOP unbuttoning your shirt.”
“Cordelia. What is wrong with you? How many times in the past three years have you bandaged my chest?”
“That is so not the point.”
“It isn’t?”
“No! And don’t look at me all faux confused, mister. You know exactly what I am talking about.”
“I do?”
“And stop with the I’m hot but confused look, will you?”
“Hey!”
“What?”
“You think I’m hot?”
“Oh for the sweet love of Betsy. Must you always just focus on one tiny little piece of what I am saying to you, Angel? I swear, you just might be the first vampire in history with ADD, well unless we count Dru. But really, who counts Dru?”
“ADD? What’s ADD? And what does that have to do with my hotness?”
“Attention Deficit Disorder Sherlock—it means you have trouble focusing on what you are supposed to be focusing on!”
“They have a name for that? I swear, these days they have a name for everything. Next you’ll be telling me that there’s a name for….”
“Angel!”
“Geez! What?”
“You are unbuttoning. I said to stop and yet you continue with the rapid finger movement resulting in loose material. And you wonder why I think you can’t focus.”
“Oops. There went that last button. Oh my. Whatever will we do now that I seem to have taken off my shirt?”
“Shut up smartass. You know, you really are just digging your own grave here.”
“Cordelia, I really wish you would tell me what your problem with me undressing is. I mean, am I hideous or something?”
“Angel, I swear….”
“Wait. Is this about that fat comment you made? Cause I keep telling you: Vampire’s don’t gain weight….well not a lot anyway. I can make Wes look it up in a book for you! Hey! Wes! Where’d you put that book?
“Shhhhh!!!!!! Angel, quit yelling!”
“You know Cordy, I know you’re big with the bossiness and all, but you seem to just be full of commands tonight. You might wanna take it down a notch.”
“Big with the bossiness?”
“Ahem…well, perhaps BIG was an overstatement…”
“Take it down a notch?”
“Yes, well. Hm. Now that you put it in THAT tone of voice, it sounds so……”
“Patronizing? Stupid? Lame?”
“Hey. All I’m saying is you have to let a man make his own decisions sometimes. I don’t need you to constantly tell me what to do. I did manage to make it 250 years on this earth on my own.”
“Oh yeah, THAT’S a good argument to make. I spent hundreds of years raping and pillaging! See? I can make my OWN damn decisions!”
“I swear, sometimes you make it sound like Angelus was a Viking.”
“Shut up. Besides, I don’t constantly tell you what to do.”
“Yes, you do.”
“NO, I do not.”
“DO!”
“DON’T!”
“CORDELIA!”
“ANGEL! Shh! Just shut the hell up already!”
“Ah-HA! See! SEE!! I told you. You are always bossing me around.”
“Fine.”
“And you are always acting like I can’t see what’s….wait. Fine?”
“Yup. If you want me to butt out of your life, then so be it. Walk around naked for all I care.”
“Cordelia”
“Mmm? Sorry? Did you say something? I was busy with my own life over here.”
“Cordy”
“Do-do-do-do….Istanbul was Constantinople, now it’s Istanbul not Constantinople, why did Constantinople get the works?….”
“Cor”
“That’s nobody’s business but the Turks……”
“You know I hate that song.”
“Yet another instance of your tragic bad taste that we won’t go into, Angel.”
“I’m sorry. You know I value your advice. I just…well, I just don’t want to feel like a 5 year old that can’t make his own decisions!”
“Fine. You want my advice, Angel?”
“Sure”
“Ok, but you feel free to do what you think is best.”
“Cordy, don’t think you’re fooling me with that little innocent look for one second.”
“What? Maybe I’ve come around to your way of thinking Angel. After all, you have a point. Your clothes are sopping wet.”
“Uhm…yeah….but I think you could have figured that out without feeling my pants.”
“MMm, maybe. But you know I think the back here might just be even damper than the front! And did you see this tear?”
“Cordy, uhm…yeah…uhm….what?”
“You were really right about your shirt, Angel.”
“I was? Ahem…I mean, Yeah! I was!”
“Yep. And you know what I think you should do now?”
“Uh….no?”
“Take your pants off.”
“Hey! Watch the hands!”
“What? I’m just trying to help! You said your shirt was wet and ripped and you wanted to take it off, well, these pants are too. Sooooo, off with your pants!”
“Cordelia, control yourself. I’m not taking my pants off.”
“You aren’t?”
“No. I’m NOT.”
“Oh, ok. Why not?”
“This isn’t going to work, you know.”
“What isn’t”
“Your clever reverse psychology plan to make me say taking my pants off is indecent and thus prove you right. It’s not going to work.”
“Wow. That’s just…really…..elaborate Angel.”
“Cordelia Chase, if you are anything, you are elaborate. Of course you still manage to be perfectly simple at the same time.”
“Hm. That’s really deep, Angel.”
“Ya think?”
“No, I really don’t. What the hell are you talking about?”
“You know, at this point, I just don’t even know anymore. And that’s why I am going upstairs to my room to get a new shirt.”
“You’re sure you wanna do that.”
“Get a new shirt?”
“No, go upstairs with no shirt on.”
“Cordy”
“Fine! Fine. Give me “the look” if you must, but I’m just saying…..it’s a tad improper, that’s all.”
“Thanks, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind when I move into Buckingham Palace.”
“Alrighty then. Have a good ole shirtless time.”
“You coming up?”
“No, I think I’ll stay down here for a bit.”
“Well, will I see you later?”
“Ohhhh….I think you’ll be seeing me before you know it.”
“Cordelia, I’m the cryptic one. You’re the blunt one…don’t go switching roles on me.”
“Sure, sure. Catch ya around nudey boy.”
“Well, see ya…”
“Bye”
“You know I get worried when you smile so sweetly, don’t you?”
“Goodbye Angel.” “One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three, one thousand….”
“Cordelia!”
“Yeessss?”
“Why are there 15 girls up in the lobby?”
“That would be Fred’s study group….and I’m sure they appreciated the ‘Sponsored by Chippendales’ study break. So, way to go stud muffin #1!”
“And you chose not to help with the situation why?”
“Angel, I do recall telling you to put your shirt on so you wouldn’t be indecent. And after you threw your “I’m not a woman but hear me roar anyway” tantrum, I decided I’d still be helpful.”
“And you were helpful how exactly?”
“Hey, I tried to give the girls’ a little more bang for their buck, but you just wouldn’t take the pants off. But still, I gave them a little bit of eye candy, and so my work here is done. Goodness knows those girls haven’t gotten any in awhile, so really, I was helping the helpless if you think about it.”
“Cordelia, this isn’t funny.”
“What can I say, Angel? I’m a slave to the mission.”
End.