Go TeamC/A
Title: In Control
Author: Nickle
Posted:
Rating: N-17
Category: Smut and nothin' but the smut
Content: C/A
Summary: Cordy thinks Angel is Buffy's lapdog. Even in bed.
Spoilers: None- Early S3 btvs.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: GT/AA/NF...anywhere else, just ask
Notes: based on a challenge of Sach's [Califi], the wench.
Thanks/Dedication:
Feedback: Loved
Chapter 1Life was full of fun little factoids to know and tell. For example: Cordelia knew that watching your lame excuse of a boyfriend make googoo eyes at his little nerdy mouse of a friend was not, in fact, flattering or fun. Neither was hanging out in the freakin' library, of all places, to hear the 411 on Buffy's most recent slimebuddy that she was going to have to kill. Not like the rest of them were needed for that. Some of them, one or two of them…ok, just Cordelia had a life that didn't include the daily soaking of the clothes caked in demon goo.
She had other, more important things to do. Like plan her future wedding to Prince William. But no, apparently in a moment of looniness, she'd picked Xander Harris to bestow her attention on . And she had paid for it ever since. Completely cut off from her friends, losing her favorite Jimmy Choo's on a run through the cemetery, having to drive her Grandma's geezermobile of an Olds while she tried to get an uninvite levied on her own car. All this joy for the giving Xander the best semester of her life. It so sucked.
Across the library, Angel sat quietly, slouched back in his chair, chin resting on steepled fingers as he listened to Giles drone on about the latest and baddest. Except it wasn't so bad; Angel had dealt with this demon before. Not like he'd share that. The last couple of times he'd volunteered any information at all, Giles had completely ignored him and Xander had flat out told him to shut up. When they needed his help, they'd ask for it. On the same day it snowed in hell. Angel could have told him that actually, hell could be very very cold and still burn your soul to a sooty ash. He knew that first hand. One hundred years was a long time to live on earth surrounded by your nearest and dearest; one hundred years in hell was an infinite eternity.
He hadn't even wanted to come tonight but Buffy had insisted. They would forgive him, she said. They would come around. His place was helping her.
It was that last that really pissed him off. His place? Make him a woman and keep him barefoot and pregnant hunched over a stove…all the same thing. His freakin' place. Shit. His plans were to figure that out on his own, thank you very much. That would be his pleasure and his alone.
Coming back hadn't been without its pleasures, small as they were. Willow had hesitatingly visited him at the mansion one night, all skinny nervousness and stuttering. She sat there, bravely, proud of herself for her courage, as she told him about the closed loophole on the noose around his soul. She had researched it carefully, and she hadn't reinstated the damn curse when she resouled him. "You can, you know…." She head leaned forward and whispered loudly, "get HAPPY." Her eyes grew wide. He did know what she was talking about, didn't he? Yeah, he knew.
He thanked her, and apologized for her fish, and complimented her on her incredible bravery on coming to him alone and sitting there long enough to tell him the big news. Of course, the huge cross that she held in front of her in a white-knuckled death grip, the wooden stake gripped in the other hand, the necklace of garlic cloves and the squirt gun of holy water in her lap did boost the courage quotient somewhat. He sighed, remembering.
Finding out he could enjoy life with fewer limits had been a pleasure. Actually having that enjoyment, now that was another story.
So here he was, in the library with a group of people who hated him and were frightened of him and what they knew he could be. He had tortured them all, each and every one, in some way. And they resented him with each breath they took. Even Buffy. She didn't trust that the spell was fixed, and he no longer wasn't fixed. She was deeply mournful around him, like teenage girls are when in the throes of the deep despair of a lost love. God he hated that. He spent so much time reassuring and comforting and being stoic it had taken him a while to admit the truth to himself: he didn't want her anymore.
Acathala had needed his blood, not his soul, and she had handed it over without another thought. Then she trotted off and played poor broken girl with great hair while he had writhed and suffered in the deepest of hells. Kinda hard to get Mr. Happy stand up and take notice after that. He looked around the room disinterestedly while Buffy began barking out orders.
Xander seemed fixed attentively on Buffy while she talked, Willow looked wide-eyed, like she had a secret she just couldn't hold in another moment. His eyes met Giles', who stared at him with deep and utter hatred and contempt. Angel sighed. Oz slouched in a chair next to Willow, absently playing with her fingers as he listened to Buffy. And speak of the slayer….she stood there, short and mighty, doling out decrees. God she could yammer.
"Ok, got it, can we be back home by 9:00? Because Tight Spot is playing at the Bronze…."
"Yeah, Cordelia, we'll try to fit it in around your schedule." Buffy's voice dripped sarcasm. Cordelia's lips drew into a tight line. She had learned a long time ago that no one ever sided with her in a one on one with Buffy. They always sided with Buffy. Apparently being a sidekick meant you got kicked a little on the side if you tried to be a stand up gal.
Angel watched this little interplay with detachment. Cordelia, he hadn't figured out yet. Buffy used her as a doormat, or tried to, and still Cordelia came back for more. Granted, she came back fighting. And she could outmouth Buffy any day of the week. If Cordelia were a demon, she'd be….a yammerouth. Her power would be to yammer incessantly with pointed barbs until the Slayer collapsed from a brain deflation. Angel grinned to himself; sitting here and listening to Cordelia sometimes was another small pleasure. Although he wondered about her intelligence in choosing Xander to press flesh with.
"Angel!!" he swung his gaze lazily to an impatient Buffy. "Need your attention here. Be on standby for backup. I'll let you know if I need you." Angel held her gaze, not responding. Yeah, I'll do that.
There was an uncomfortable rustle in the room; no one knew what to say in a conversation that included Angel. Out of the corner, Angel heard a mutter, so soft no one else could hear it. "Bet he was on a leash in the bed, too. Jeeze, what a lapdog!" His gaze, intent, slowly raised and rested on Cordelia, who sat absently twirling a lock of long hair between her fingers.
She gazed sightlessly in his direction, and started, suddenly realizing that he was staring at her. She looked around in a mild panic; she hadn't said that out loud, had she? But no one else paid her any attention. He couldn't have heard that. He was just being creepy Angel. Ignoring him, she continued to twist her hair around her finger.
A lapdog? A fuckin' lapdog? Angel brooded, lowering his gaze to his hands. Honey, he not only ran with the big dogs, he WAS the big dog. He knew more about sexual pleasure than Miss Cordelia Chase could ever learn in three lifetimes, and if there was anyone here made for that particular little joy of life, it was the cheerleader. He glanced back over at her, oblivious to his gaze. She was a tight little package, firm and nubile. His misguided foray into a love life with Buffy had been a bad mistake. He'd been all caught up in the moment of her innocence and relative fragility. It had been tender and sweet and gentle….not really words that had described him in the past.
Now this little brunette…..she could be taken for a ride. Through the mountains, down in the valley, sharp around the curves and straight down the road to where the sky and earth meet and blend, full throttle. She was built for exactly that. She was built to be driven, and controlled. A lapdog in bed. No one wanted that; it was boring. Now, having control relinquished, that was something altogether different. A lapdog didn't make that choice, but a woman strong enough to give over to him, that was the bedmate he wanted.
He shifted in his seat, feeling his pants tighten over his groin as the thoughts in his head took shape. There was no dog in this room, but he'd bet good money she'd make a great little pet. His attention came back to the room; apparently the droning portion of the evening was over. Angel watched as everyone rose and listlessly gathered backpacks and bookbags, and quietly rose and stepped back into the shadows, escaping into the evening without another word.
Cordelia and Xander wandered out into the hallway, followed by Willow and Oz. Xander turned to everyone and took a breath. "OK. Let's try something new tonight."
Cordy perked up. "And by new, I mean that we do the exact same thing of following Buffy to the cemetery and hanging back so she won't get mad." Cordy glared at him.
"Xander, she doesn't want us there. She's Buffy, for God's sake. What she sadly lacks in brains, charm, looks, or fashion sense she makes up for in brute strength. She's fine."
Xander looked at her, a crooked grin on his face. "C'mon, Cord, it'll be fun. You, me, the dark, lots of lipping…"
"No. She's mean and I hate her shoes. I'm not going. I'm going to the Bronze. I'm going to have fun. You do remember fun, don't you? I'm going to have some. You losers need me, you know where to find me." And she stalked off down the hall, angry that even in a group she didn't like and had little respect for, she wasn't the Queen.
Outside, an expectant hush settled over the night. Cordy stalked to her car, angry short clicks of her heels as she turned over in her head various scenarios of Buffy begging for her help, her guidance. Of Xander offering himself on the alter of her mercy. Of Willow…..she snorted. Like she'd waste brainspace on Willow. Cordy looked down into her bag, looking for her keys as she approached her car.
"You should have your keys in your hand before you leave the building, Cordelia. That way, you have a weapon in your hand if you're attacked." Cordy shrieked, dropping her bag as her head snapped up, meeting Angel's steady gaze. He leaned against her car, legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded across his chest. His strong, sculpted chest….she sucked in a breath.
"Holy cow, Angel….is that how you kill 'em…give 'em coronaries?" She paused a moment, letting her heart calm, before stooping to scoop up the spilled contents from her bag. Angel watched her, not moving. His eyes traveled up the lines of her bent legs, admiring the lightly muscled length..
"Sorry."
"Yeah, well, whatever." Sighing, Cordelia rose and fumbled for her keys. "Tell you what. We'll do the Buffy show. You go sit somewhere quietly and when I need you, I'll call you."
Angel met her gaze without blinking. Cordy began to squirm a bit. Finally, he spoke in a measured tone. "Thought I'd hang out with you at the Bronze in case they need us. You never know."
Cordy looked at him suspiciously for a moment. "OK. I guess. You're on your own for drinks. And I like strawberry lemonades. No pulp."
Angel smiled slightly. "Deal." They climbed into her car and set off, peeling out of the parking lot with a squeal. Angel relaxed back into his seat, watching her as she drove. She tried to be casual, but she felt his gaze on her like a heated blanket. After a few moments of silence, she finally spoke.
"Would you mind not staring at me?"
Silence. "I always enjoy looking at beauty."
Cordy snorted. "Smooth line. Work often?"
"Not tonight, apparently." His voice was laced with mild humor. She thought a bit.
Angel in her car. How often had she wanted THAT? Actually, she had thought about Angel in her car, Angel in her bedroom, Angel on a chaise by the pool, Angel….well, just about anywhere. Xander…he was mildly entertaining. He worked hard and was so malleable, usually. Not tonight, but usually. She so ruled him. And for the most part, that was fun, ruling a boy. For the most part. But sitting here, by Angel….
She suddenly saw the difference. Xander was a boy. Angel was a man. Xander, she could predict and control. Angel…..dark, strong, quiet Angel. He was door number three, and she wasn't sure what was there. But wondering was making her tingly.
She wordlessly parked the car and hopped out, not waiting for him as she took off for the entrance of the Bronze. A strong hand tugged gently at her arm, and she looked at Angel, who had come up to her silently.
"With me." His grip was firm but gentle, and she was so surprised by his quiet insistence that she only nodded. They walked in together, into the raised hum of the crowd. Angel led Cordy to a sofa in the corner where they could see the stage clearly and sat down beside her. Cordy sat back, a little unsettled at his attention, and pretended to scout the crowd. Angel watched her intently, drinking in the shimmer of nervousness that hovered from her body. She was aware of him, he had no doubt of that. And she was skittish. And she was….he smiled. She was intrigued.
Cordelia tried to shift with the charged atmosphere that had sprung up between them. She looked around, everywhere but at him. He was right at her side, sitting closer than he needed to on the long sofa. She felt his leg pressed against hers, and sucked in a breath. Was he coming on to her? Not like it wasn't possible, but she had the "Buffio and Angellette" show shoved down her throat so many times she had decided that the only salty goodness she'd be licking would be in her very hot dreams. Yet here he was, sculpted man 'o hot goodness, pressing his strong, muscled, long leg against her. Like he wanted her.
He leaned over slightly and whispered in her ear. "I do, you know." She spun her head towards him, shocked.
"How did you…." He grinned. "I mean, what do you mean?"
"You know what I mean, Cordelia. You're smart. Very smart. I like that about you."
She gaped at him. "Ummmm……hookay……have you been drinking, you know, something other than a substance Red Cross approved?"
"Nope. Just seeing clearly." And he was. He was seeing Cordy on the sofa, on the table, bent over the counter….he was seeing it all very very clearly. He leaned in towards her and whispered in her ear. "Want to come back to the mansion….and…talk?"
Cordy stared at him, her lips parted in shock. Angel leaned over and gently tapped at her chin, pressing her mouth shut. "Open it for me later, Cordy." His voice was a dark whisper, and it sent shivers down her spine.
Ohgod. He wanted her. Just like she……just like she wanted him. She nodded, one short nod, and he gently leaned forward and kissed her lips briefly. "Good girl. Let's go." They rose and walked out, calmly, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her. They walked silently to her car and she reached for the doorhandle of the driver's side, but he stopped her. She looked up at him, confused.
"Give me the keys, Cordelia. I'm driving."
Cordy stared at him for a moment, feeling like something more was being said than a simple desire to drive a car. Wordlessly, she handed him the keys and he walked her around to the passenger side, opening the door for her and gently handling her into the car. She smiled to herself as she watched him walk around the front of the car. Xander hadn't ever opened a door for her. And the one time he had stuttered out a request to drive her car she had giggled and said, "Right. That will so happen." And he had never asked again.
So here she was…in her own car, being driven by Angel. Going to his home…his mansion, she corrected herself, smiling. Going to his mansion, and she, Cordelia Chase, was going to show Angel that liplocking with a Queen was quite a step above wasting time with a Buffy.
Beside her, Angel drove, content in the dark. Back to the mansion, inside the door, and he was going to show one Ms. Cordelia Chase that there were no lapdogs to be found anywhere….and that handing the keys over to Angel had given him much much more.
Chapter 2The car sped through the night, the occupants silent through the drive. Cordelia looked out the window as tree branches, spidery against the moon, passed in a blur. She didn't even look over when Angel's hand reached over to briefly stroke at the length of thigh bared by the short skirt.
Angel took an unneeded breath, inhaling the teasing waft of arousal that seemed to float off of Cordelia's skin. She smelled of fruity shampoo, and expensive conditioner, and a faint musk that was all her. She didn't look at him as he stroked her leg, but he felt her body tense a bit, and heard the increased beat of her heart.
They pulled into the drive at the mansion, and Angel shut off the engine. They both sat, not touching, silent in the car. Cordy felt as if she stood poised on some….starting line. Some threshold.
Cordelia stared straight ahead, not saying a word. After a moment, she unlocked her seatbelt and opened her door, climbing out. Beside her, Angel let go of the breath he didn't even know he was holding and climbed out of his side of the car. He walked around and took her arm, gently leading her to the front door. At the door he paused, looking down at her a bit.
"Before we go in…" She looked up at him, her eyes wide. He smiled a bit before continuing. "Kiss me." She looked up at him, uncertain. "If you want more, kiss me now." With a flutter of a sigh Cordelia rose onto her toes and pressed a kiss gently onto his still lips. He grinned through the kiss and she pulled back, her brow furrowed.
"Thank you for the blessing, Sister Mary." He grinned at the flash of anger in her eyes. "Now do I get my kiss?" Cordelia practically hummed with anger as she rose back up onto her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to hers. Her lips slanted over his, sliding with damp heat as she pressed her body into the hard planes of his. Her mouth teased and cajoled, and she traced over his lips with her tongue, licking his flesh softly. Hah. She thought. Bless that, Angel. And that was her last coherent thought.
Angel suddenly parted his lips and stabbed his tongue into her mouth, stroking the heated recesses with a lazy rythym. His hands rose and gripped her hips, pulling her even closer into him. She felt the thick bulge beneath his slacks pressing into her abdomen, and unknowingly ground into it, wanting more. Angel took over, drawing all her heat from her and teasing her with his coolness. He was thinking how easy it would be to lay her down on the hood of her car……
He broke off, and lowered his head while he tried to regain control. The hood of the car…that was for later. After they had conquered the bed. And the dresser. And the shower. And the kitchen table. And all the countertops. And the sofa. And that huge leather chair, oh yeah…..his mind counted up. Whole lotta rooms in the mansion. Sparse furniture, but it was all sturdy. But right now….just get her in the door. Cordelia looked up at him, her lips swollen and shining in the silvery moonlight. Angel wordlessly stepped back and opened the door, motioning her in. Cordy walked in, her head held high. No need to let him know that her legs were now rubber bands, her heart was racing, and her panties were damp with her want. He didn't need to know that.
Of course, he did. He could hear her heart thumping beneath her fragile breastbone. Steady and strong, it's beat was calling him on. He felt it reverb through his body as he walked behind her, shutting the door soundlessly. And he would bet that her panties were damp beyond belief with her musky honey. He could smell it…could practically taste it, the scent was so strong.
Cordelia looked around, her eyes wide. Not what she expected. More…classic…than she would have guessed. No coffins anywhere. No cobwebs. Just kind of quiet. Angel came up behind her and took her purse from her, setting it on a chair. He took her hand and pulled her over to a sideboard table, pouring himself a glass of wine. He looked over at her.
"Want a glass?" She grinned.
"Sure." He poured a small measure, looking at her from unsmiling eyes.
"A glass, Cordy. No more." She rolled her eyes and took the glass, holding it to her lips and taking a small sip. Mellow and fruity. She licked a drop off her lips, watching him, and walked to the sofa to sit. "One moment." She turned to him. "Take off your shoes. I want you to be comfortable."
Cordelia took in a small breath at the command in his words. He wasn't asking her. He was telling her. She could quit, she reminded herself. She could walk out, no harm no foul. She took off her shoes and placed them neatly beside the sofa. Angel watched the nonbattle she wagered with herself and smiled softly.
"Very good, Cordelia." She stared at him a moment before sitting on the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her as she sipped at the wine. Angel sat on the coffee table, facing her, watching her face as she savored the rich wine. He smiled a bit to himself as he watched her. She was probably born 18. She wore self assurance as casually as most women wore blue jeans. He wondered why he hadn't noticed her in the past as strongly as he noticed her now. Not for lack of trying for attention on her part; early on she had seemed to have the tenacity of a bloodhound on the hunt. But somehow, his attention had been trapped by Buffy and Cordelia's by Xander.
Cordy stiffened as a guilty thought raced through her mind. Xander. He of the beagle eyes and the endless supply of jokage. Some people might even consider him a boyfriend. She sighed. Emphasis on the word boy. And never had that been so apparent as now, when sipping wine with the hottie planted across from her. Angel and Xander….same planet…different worlds. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands, a shard of angry conscience poking at her.
Angel sensed the shift in her body and mind…the subtle tells that noted her sudden distraction. "What is it?" His voice was low. Cordelia looked up at him, her eyes searching his.
"I'm here. And that's…." she took a breath. "That's so….so good. But…" her voice trailed off. Angel watched her a moment, thinking.
"You've changed your mind."
"NO. No. It's not….well….it's just….." She raised troubled eyes to him. "Xander."
"Xander."
"Well, yeah."
Angel looked at her a moment, surprised at the flash of irrational anger that shot through his body. Xander Harris, boy nonwonder. She wanted Angel, he knew that. Ten minutes, tops, and she'd be begging for it. And here she was, allowing Xander goddamn Harris to enter the evening. His hand flexed around the wineglass stem.
"I mean….it wouldn't be honest….."
Angel regarded her for a moment. "You feel guilty?"
"Yeah. I do." She sighed. I want….I want this. I reallllyyyy want this…" Angel grinned and leaned in, taking her mouth gently with his. He felt her shiver a bit and he pulled back, slowly feeling the reins of control settle in his hands once again. "I want this very much….but, this is wrong….." Angel looked at her impatiently. "It's wrong until I settle things with Xander. I can't do that, Angel. I don't do the whole sneak around very well. It's….it's not right."
Angel looked down at his hands for a moment. "I get that, Cordelia." And he was surprised that he really did. He just hadn't viewed Cordelia in this light before. He hadn't really viewed her at all, her previous attempts to get his attention notwithstanding. But he saw her clearly now, and the more he saw, the more Buffy paled in comparison.
Cordelia set her wineglass down. She took a deep breath and tried to think of how to talk so it looked like she knew what she was doing. "So. Here we are. On the brink of major mackage…I kinda pull the emergency break. I need to….kinda take care of Xander business before moving on. Are you mad?"
She looked at Angel, her gaze clear and steady. He felt a jolt at her directness; there wouldn't be any games here. Nor, tonight, would there be any "mackage." He wondered if that was a new slang for intercourse. He grinned to himself. There were generation gaps, and this was more of a generation chasm.
He rose and pulled her to her feet in one fluid movement, yanking her to his chest as his mouth lowered and he gently pressed a kiss to her, quickly and firmly, before setting her back on her feet.
"Go. Do what you need to do. Take care of things with the boy." He nearly spat the word out. "I understand, Cordelia. You have a good heart."
Cordy felt something shift in her; something big had just happened, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. It was as if some decision had been made between them, but she wasn't sure what that decision was. She nodded and leaned down to get her shoes, slipping them on without a word. Angel watched with hooded eyes, giving no hint to his thoughts.
He took her arm and walked her out to the car. She paused and looked up at him, her face pale in the silver of the bright moonlight. "Mackage will have to wait."
"I can be patient."
She smiled at him and climbed in her car and roared off, the squeal of her tires bringing a slight smile to Angel's lips. That was Cordelia. Over the last several months, he had been spending time with a girl, and now he was going to take a woman. And she'd never doubt who was in control ever again.
Cordelia took in a deep breath as her car sped down the tree-lined street. God, she'd been mooning over a little boy when right there all along was Angel. Goodbye, Xander Harris. Hello, Salty Goodness. She had a feeling Angel wouldn't be as controllable as Xander had been. But one thing in this world Cordelia Chase was sure of, and that was her ability to rule over any male who even thought to look her way. A few hot and heavy moments with her, and Angel would never doubt who was in control in that little twosome.
Chapter 3"Xander, this has really been the best three months of my life. But I think we both need space….no, no….God that one reeked." Cordelia took a deep breath and tried to summon a sad but wise expression, staring into her own eyes in the mirror. "Xander, I want you to know that it's not you, it's me….yikes. OK. Try to not suck here. Xander, you mean the world to me….but, we both need to move on…..we've grown together, and now we've grown apart….you're wonderful, and you deserve someone who really appreciates your, you know, wonderfulness." Cordy sighed as she picked up her backpack and scooped up her keys. "We can still be friends. I want us to keep the specialness of us…." She swept out of the room and then poked her head back in, flipping off herself in the mirror. "Cordelia, you blow chunks."
For the last three nights, she had lain in bed, awake and preoccupied and unable to sleep. She had thought about her life, or lack thereof since offering up her popularity on the sacrifice alter of scooby worship. Not like ditching Xander would fix that, but she could certainly be enjoying someone a little hunkier if she was going to be exiled to geekland. And, truth be told, she didn't know that she wanted to be back in the fold with Aura or Harmony or Tiffannee. Jeeze. Drop a vowel or two, Tiff. Cordy of the old would shimmy into her latest and shortest skirt and stiletto her way back into the graces of the Queen's court. But this Cordy……
This Cordy had seen a little of life beyond the covers of Elle. This Cordy had personally dusted two vampires all by herself, and this Cordy knew that there was more to life than great shoes. There was also death. This Cordelia Chase had decided that, faced with imminent graduation, i.e. real life, she was going to jettison the trappings and muck of life that was holding her down. Xander was sweet and kind and goofy and funny, but, she was sad to say, he was muck. Sooooo…..jettison in progress. Goodbye, Howdy Doody, hello, Salty Hunk of Goodness. Aieyiyi.
She raced the Queenmobile into the Sunnydale High parking lot and squealed to a stop, climbing out and gathering up her books. Mentally, she checked off her day. Test on Brave New World, French III conversation outline due, break up with Xander, and nail appointment after school. She sighed. This day was so going to suck. She had really hated Brave New World. Like, life was full of little trade-offs. Being in a permanent state of happiness seemed like a good plan to her. Apparently not to those without a cool car and a closet full of Prada, but those people were, typically, whiners. She did not sit and whine. She was not a sitter. She was a doer. And now, she was doing what needed to be done.
"Cordy!" she turned as she walked up the sidewalk to the school entrance. Xander ran up to her and hooked an arm around her waist. "Hey, my girlfriend. We just keep running into each other."
"Only because I don't run away fast enough." Cordelia smiled to soften the snark. Apparently she didn't make it as soft as she tried to, because his arm dropped away and he stepped back a little, looking around and not meeting her eyes.
"Wow. Ya mad at me?"
"No! No, I'm not. I'm….just….I'm…..Xander….."
He nodded, looking down. Cordy felt incredibly guilty. Xander hadn't done anything; she was the one who was tickling tonsils with Angel on the sly, and here she was, kicking Xander like he was some sad little puppy. She was so low.
"Listen…I'm sorry. Haven't been sleeping well. Maybe we can get together at lunch? I'd really like to talk."
Xander nodded. "Yeah. Talking. Of the boyfriend girlfriend kind. OK."
Cordy nodded, wondering why Xander was acting so uncomfortable. She had nailed him way way worse in the past and it seemed to roll right off him. "Ok. We're done. See ya at lunch." And she set off, already reworking her breakup speech to make it a little kinder.***
Lunchtime, and Xander was nowhere to be found. Cordy checked all their favorite makeout haunts, even behind the furnace in the basement, and there he was not. OK. Typically, lunch meant cafeteria, but she had looked there first, and no Xander. Stymied, she wandered into the library, and poked her head in. The room was empty and she was turning to leave, when she spotted Xander's backpack laying on a table. She walked slowly into the silent room and looked around.
"Xander?" no answer. She looked in the empty bookcage, and Gile's office, and even behind the counter in case Xander was once again hiding, waiting to leap out and scare her. She was about to turn to leave when she heard a muffled noise from the upper stacks. She walked cautiously to the stairs, and climbed them, an uneasy feeling tugging at a corner of her mind. Up the stairs, to the right, and down one short aisle. The muffled sounds grew louder…and clearer…and Cordy grinned. No danger here, unless panties had been removed. Someone was having fun of the naughty, mackage kind. Curious, she peeked around the corner of the stacks and felt her jaw drop.
Later, she would look back and wonder which was the bigger shock: seeing Willow locking lips with a person who was seemingly enjoying himself, or seeing that the person was Xander. Cordy held still, frozen in disbelief. Just as she was turning to go, Xander raised his eyes and blanched, seeing her as she stumbled back.
"Cordy…ohgod."
Willow went even more pale, if that was possible, and she stepped back from Xander with a horrified look on her face. Cordy looked at her with disgust before turning to Xander. "Wow. I guess talk of the boyfriend girlfriend kind couldn't hold a candle to this. Ratbastard."
She turned to stalk down the stairs and picked up her speed as she heard Xander running to keep up. "Cordy….ohgod"
"You said that. It sucked, then, too." Cordy ripped the library doors open and ran out, Xander hot on her heels. He grabbed at her arm and spun her around.
"Please, Cordy…I'm sorry, please…."
Cordy yanked her arm away and slapped at Xander's hands, mindless of the small crowd that was beginning to gather. "Damn straight you're sorry. You're a sorry piece of shit, that's what you are. I KNEW something was up….I knew you were being goofy…goofier than usual. Willow Rosenberg? Willow Queen of the Nerds Rosenberg? Are you fucking insane?"
Cordy's voice had taken on a high screech, and Xander began to look around, panicking. He reached out a hand to Cordy and she smacked it away. "DON'T TOUCH ME! I can't believe I thought we…I mean, I thought you and I…."
Her voice trailed off. "Close the book on us, Xander. That is the deal. You're a loser, and you belong with a loser. It's just best if you keep to your own kind." She walked away and turned to walk back to him. "Just think of this. I wanted to talk to you today to break up with you. That's right…" Xander's eyes grew wider and looked….surprised…hurt. "Yeah, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. About how we've both grown, and how I hope we can stay friends, and how you'll always be special, except, not, and please die soon." And she turned and ran down the hall, past a startled Giles, past a large crowd that had gathered to catch the latest of the Sunnydale Soap. She ran out the door, and down the sidewalk, and climbed into her car, grinding the gears viciously before roaring away in a cloud of angry dust.
She pulled over two blocks away, brushing tears off her face. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. It was supposed to be congenial. The only person crying would be him, begging her to stay, he couldn't live without her, yada yada yada….that was how it was supposed to happen. No one cheated on Cordelia Chase. She did the leaving, she did not get left. Sniffing, she pulled back out onto the street and drove home, listlessly climbing her stairs and climbing onto her bed face down and burying her head under the large pillow. It was nice and it was dark and it was quiet there, and she ruled all in her room.***
The day wore on and the sun slowly dipped down below the horizon. Buffy sat at a table, kicking her legs absently as she looked around, sipping at a cappuccino. Angel watched her from the shadows for a bit, his eyes resting on her face as she listlessly scanned the room. He finally crossed to the table and sat, facing her. She smiled slightly.
"Hey."
"Buffy."
Buffy looked at him silently for a moment. He ignored her and scanned the room, looking for a leggy brunette that he knew.
"Angel…" He looked at her. "I wanted……I mean…we haven't really been alone…."
"Yeah." His voice was low. "Maybe that's the way it needs to be."
Buffy looked taken aback and breathed in deeply, chuckling without any real humor. "Wow. Bad day for the x chromes in Sunnydale, unless you're Willow…." Her voice trailed off. Angel looked at her, blankly. She sighed. "Cordelia caught Xander and Willow macking in the library. Drama ensued."
Angel's gaze sharpened. "Really? Cordelia caught them…macking….in the library?" He was surprised to feel a burst of anger pour through him. "She caught them?"
"Yep. Right there in the stacks. I mean, right THERE. Jeeze. I mean, I knew there was always some kind of lifelong bond between Xander and Willow….I just didn't know it included the friendly ritualistic exchange of saliva." She paused, smiling a sad smile. "I bet Cordy's real pissed. Only thing that makes my day better…."
"…Is the thought of Cordelia in pain?" Angel finished evenly.
"Well, no, not in pain, but you know…in not feel good." Buffy answered defensively.
"Yeah. I know. Had that feeling myself lately. Wanting something less than unhappy, but not feel good. Thanks. You explained that well." Angel rose and looked down at Buffy. "Bye." And he walked out the door, leaving a slayer behind who watched him go with sad eyes.
Angel walked out into the night, his hooded gaze scanning the parking lot before he disappeared into the night. No shiny red car that signaled Cordelia's presence. She wasn't here. He was amazed at the spurt of protective anger he had felt at the news of what she had discovered. That had to hurt. Sure, Cordelia had been a possible little buffet for his appetites three nights ago, but she had red-lighted that. She had pulled the brakes because she had a commitment to someone else, and she wanted to not break that commitment.
Angel strode towards the drainage entrance to the sewer lines and wondered when the last time was that anyone he knew made decisions based on honor. Honor was an old fashioned concept, and one Cordelia wouldn't even be able to name, probably, but she had that very quality in abundance. He moved through the damp darkness with little attention to his surroundings.
Caught with their pants down, so to speak. Angel shook his head. Xander, Angel could believe. The boy was one huge walking hormone. Angel always assumed that his attentions to Cordy had sprung up from being denied access to Buffy. Boys who switch attention so quickly were not necessarily known for fidelity, being far too fickle. But Willow? Shy, quiet, smart Willow? That one Angel couldn't buy. Willow was the kind of girls all the young men in his township had avoided till the day they were ready to settle down and produce heirs. Angel had always thought of her fondly as the marrying kind. Not the sex in the library kind. Hmm. Goes to show you. Gotta watch those quiet ones. Especially, apparently, if you date Xander Harris.
Cordelia had to be hurt. Angel frowned. This could put a crimp in the big plan. Not that the plan mattered more than Cordelia's feelings, but…damn. He'd been able to think of little else but the soft skin of her thigh, and the way her tongue stroked and curled around his. He paused a bit, reaching down to adjust his pants. His cock seemed to have taken on a life of its own, and was apparently building that life around Cordelia. Angel sighed.
The saving grace here was that Cordelia was no small girl, she was a woman. Experienced, slightly worldly, very sure of herself. This would be a hot trip to pleasure for the both of them, and, a little lesson for the young woman on the merits of being able to distinguish the lapdogs of the world from the Men. Angel looked up into the inky sky as he emerged from a drainage tunnel by the mansion. Let her lick her wounds…let her settle down….and then he'd make his move. He could be patient. He wanted his woman fully engaged, and not mourning the loss of the boylove of her life.***
Back in Cordelia's room, she looked at herself in the mirror as she smoothed lotion over her smooth legs, tanned and long. She rose and looked at herself. Makeup, perfect. Dress, barely there. Smile, perfect. Hair, bed-hair sexy. She'd cried all afternoon. She was done. Xander thought kissing the poster child for boring was the end all, have at it. She had places to go, people to see, Vamps to mack.
She scooped up her car keys and ran out the door and climbed into her car as fast as the 5 inch Manalos would carry her. Ya lose one boy, go get another. And she had just the "another" in mind. Lookout Angel. Queen C was on the prowl.
Chapter 4The night streaked by in an inky blur as Cordelia sped to the edge of town in her car. She gripped the steering wheel till her fingers were white, and her determined gaze never wavered to the left or right as she drove. The volume on the radio was cranked and she felt the bass reverb through her body as she drove; it felt almost primal. With a squeal of protesting rubber, her tires skidded to a stop in front of the dark mansion. Cordy sighed and turned the radio off, leaving the motor idling as she stared up at the expanse of house. Should she stay or should she go? Seemed simple enough. Turn the key. Open the door. Climb out. March into that house and give that tasty dish an eyeful of what Xander Harris would never have in his wildest dreams.
Cordy felt her breath catch in her chest. Yeah. That sounded good, except she was dealing with someone a little different here. This wasn't the captain of the football team. This wasn't anything she knew. She only knew boys. And how they could lie and cheat and…..she shook her head. Do not even go there. Stick to the important parts. Like the part where walking through that door would change everything. Because somehow, Cordelia Chase suspected that Angel, the 250 year old studmuffin, wouldn't be happy with a few kisses, no matter how fabulous she was at offering them.
But dammit, she'd been the good girl for long enough. She'd given up the hottest cool factor in Sunnydale history to date a spineless biped with all the intelligence of a rock and the twit bailed on her for Willow Rosenberg. Apparently being good counted for nothing. And here's Angel, all noble and good, except for that unfortunate thing about the evil, psychopathic body timeshare he had going with Angelus, but hey, no one was perfect. She sighed and stared straight ahead, out of the windshield into the night. Face it. Prince William was never going to look her up. A hottie was right in front of her, crooking his finger at her. OK, vampire, but again, the adage about perfection percentages.
She squealed and felt her heart literally catch in her chest as a soft tap sounded on her car window. She turned and looked out the glass at Angel, standing beside her idling car. She rolled the window down and looked up at him, her eyes wide.
"Hey. Just because you're happy with a nonbeating heart doesn't mean it's something I wanna try. Jeeze."
Angel's face remained impassive. "Coming in or still making up your mind?"
Cordelia didn't say a word; she just stared up at him trying to make his face out in the deep still of night. Finally, she turned the key and pulled it out, the sudden silence unnerving. She reached for the cardoor handle but the door swung open and Angel reached in and gently took her arm to help her out. She climbed out and stood, trapped in the open doorway by his large frame. For a fleeting moment she felt helpless, and the thought drifted away as Angel stepped to the side for Cordy to pass and walk into the house. They walked in together, and Angel shut the door behind them.
Cordy looked listlessly around, again struck by the Spartan comfort of the room. She shivered a bit as she stepped closer to the fireplace, holding out her hands to warm them.
A cool breath drifted over the skin at the back of her neck. "Cold?" Angel's voice was calm.
"No. Maybe. The night seems…chilly." Cordy sighed. "Or it's just me. Crappy day. I think….I think my heart is cold."
"Trust me. It's not." Angel's voice was sure. "I think it would take a lot to cool that heart, Cordelia." Cordy shut her eyes and blinked at the unexpected tears. He just didn't know how cold she felt, inside and out. His next words wrapped around her and dried those tears up quickly. "I know about Xander and Willow, Cordelia."
"Oh, wow." Cordy whipped around, looking up at him with anger in her eyes. "You don't really hang with the grapevine crowd that is rolling around in my misery right now, so I guess you heard it from Buffy, the Vampire Layer." She flinched, hearing the angry words slip past her lips. She sighed. "Sorry."
Angel's face didn't change expression. "Don't be. I know a little about this…..anger is way easier to deal with than hurt. You have a right to be…."
"Pissed off? Ticked? Chaffed? Totally enraged till I wanna rack his balls up so far he has to have a lobotomy to take a leak?" Angel looked startled.
"Well, a little more angry than I would have thought…."
"Think a little more, Angel. I'm…." she blinked. "I'm so angry right now. God. And here is exactly how shallow I am. I'm mostly mad because he freakin' beat me to the punch." She stalked away from the heat of the fireplace. "I was gonna break up with him at lunch. And he blew me off to mack on Willow Rosenberg in the library. I had a little speech and everything. I was trying to be nice. And I get paid back by a loser with the emotional maturity of Spongebob Squarepants to fucking beat me to the finish line. Nice just doesn't seem to work for me. I'm giving up on nice."
Angel followed her and leaned down to kiss her gently on her forehead. "I'm sorry you caught them….macking. I know that's hard." He frowned. "Happened to me, once or twice. Nothing more….unpleasant….than walking in on someone you trust having sex…"
Cordelia sniffed. "Right. Xander Harris having sex. I bet he hasn't even figured out that the joystick fits in other places than his hand." Angel pulled back and looked down at her, his face blank.
"Um. You said they were macking…"
"Yeah. Macking." Cordelia made kissing noises. "Kissage. Spit swapping. Jeeze, get with it. They were kissing, Angel."
Angel thought back a bit to previous conversations. "So…..you came here before to…"
"Make out. Kiss. Jeeze." A faint blush covered Cordelia's face. "Didn't think I'd be playing connect the dots with you."
Angel thought harder. "Sooooo……You and Xander never….I mean…his…um…joystick never…."
"…came near my playstation. Yeah, and thank you for making me have this conversation. I'm going home now." She turned to go. Great. Could this day hold any more mortification for her than it did at this moment?
"Cordelia." His voice was firm. "Have you ever….before….have you ever been intimate…" He stopped, frustrated. "Cordelia, have you ever had sex before?"
Yes, apparently there was actually a deeper well of misery and mortification to dip into. She turned to Angel, suddenly tired and swamped with anger, hostility, sadness, and weariness, all at once. "NO. NO. OK? NO. I've never had sex. I've never had intercourse. Tab A has never been inserted into slot B. Contrary to the rumors, I've never had sexual intercourse. I'm a virgin. VIRGIN. Get it? Can I go now, because I think the only thing that would make this entire day worse would be to find out that you're really a woman or that you're gay. And then I'd have to kill myself." She began stalking towards the front door.
"Let's just forget this whole conversation ever happened. I wanna go home, eat five gallons of Chunky Monkey, and go to bed. OK? This thing…" she waved her arms around. "Never happened. Please, please forget it. Nice knowin' ya, great to chat, see ya, wouldn't wanna be ya…." She wrenched the front door open only to have it slam shut in her face before she could even take a step outside. Angel's cool body stood behind hers, towering over her slender body. His head dipped and a low voice whispered into her ear.
"No. It's not ok. Don't think I could ever forget this conversation." Soft amusement threaded through his voice. "Don't want to forget it, ever. So, no, Cordelia, you can't go just yet."
Cordelia shivered. Chunky monkey seemed a long way off. Her senses all kicked into overdrive. Tasty Vampire seemed to be here in its place.