Go TeamC/A
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Title: Dick Clark with Extra Cheese
Author: Kelly22
Posted here: 08/05
Rating: NC17
Category: C/A
Content:
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:
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.
Thanks/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.
Feedback:Very much appreciated.
Part 1Angel’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. Then the worry hit. 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 2Angel 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.