A/N: Well, after a virus came and the computer guy fixed the problem, I can say with a mental kick to myself that it's my fault I didn't post this second part to my Cleaning Day series when I had the chance. Now, the fic that I was pretty proud of had to be rewritten since that story and many other stories and chapters to other fics were erased. Apparently, the dude forgot to save my documents…. To say I'm not happy would be the understatement of the CENTURY!... But hey, I'm okay. Sure, I wish anybody who purposely hack and send viruses a worse fate than the smidgen of badness my computer suffered, before being made better. But I'll survive. And so will this series. It's different than the other one that I was proud of, but it'll do. I changed the song and events because of the frustration of losing the other one.
But don't worry, I've decided to rewrite my original version and post it as a second chapter to this one shot. But actually, it's two one shots in one, with you the reader who gets to decide which one will be the cannon for this Cleaning Day series!
Oh, and also the inspiration for this was due to a Glee episode about the Rocky Horror Show. I liked the singer who sang the Creature of the Night song and how she performed it with that teacher in his classroom. I took some things from that, then the original lyrics from the song, and created this.
Setting: Season 3. A day before the ballet. Then flash forward after what occurred that night.
Disclaimer: Joss is the creator and head monitor boy over ANGEL and the characters within. Not me. No money for me, but lots for Joss Whedon. Oh! And I definitely do not own or was part of the creating process of the song from Rocky Horror show song, 'Creature of the Night (Touch-a Touch-a Touch me)'
Cleaning Day Yumminess In The Hyperion Hotel: Epiphany
Part 2
Toucha, Toucha, Toucha, Touch Me!
Life in the Hyperion has never been quite the same for both champion and seer since that fateful cleaning day. If you asked them what exactly had changed, both wouldn't be able to pin point it. Well… actually, one would know exactly what it was. But being the dense person in personal relationships with the opposite sex that he was, Angel would grudgingly tell you that he was completely and utterly attracted to his best friend in a way that concentration became an issue. He might even admit that his feelings might or could run deeper, but that would be it. His struggle to run from his feelings is reaching a point where soon, he'll have to face them or self combust… Well, that's the theory.
As for the other one, Cordelia, she's a whole other example of denial. Though in her case, honestly, she's not exactly running from them; but rather removing layer after layer of self imposed locks over old unfriendship-y feelings. Thanks to many different circumstances, she's literally forced her heart to clam up on itself, refusing to voice a truth that's been growing for some time now. And thanks to her actions soon, those locks will suddenly be opened to release a loud shout inside on just what her heart truly wants.
It all started after her famous, sexy, cleaning day show. Those pesky signs of a shift of some sort, was alarmingly making itself known since then. Both Angel and Cordelia could feel it. You see, before, the attraction was kept a well secret from each other. And in the seer's case, her heart wasn't allowed to speak it to her brain. But after the dance and the charged atmosphere between the two as they finished cleaning the hotel lobby together, it was apparent that they were indeed… changing. The status quo of platonic best friend was quickly becoming fragile as something else began to loom on the horizon. It was exciting. It was unexpected. It was… too life altering. And too dangerous for them all.
For Angel, after being showed some instructions from his dancing siren, he had time to reflect later when he was finally alone in his room. Lust, want, and demonic passion; all of that which warred within. Despite his calm façade on the outside, inside waged a battle for an epiphany long ignored. In a way, it was more frightening then when he realized he had fallen in love with Buffy at first sight. For at least with her, he didn't have a friendship that could be utterly destroyed. Or a redemption that involved a murky prophetic future, and a human family to worry about. And despite of the complicated thing of going against his raging demonic instincts and loving the slayer; life back then had a more simple way of handling things.
Of course, every person of the Scooby gang outside of that doomed affair would tell you different. Simple… Ha!
But with Cordelia, there were many, many, many things to consider. And that's not counting the curse. In the end, Angel preferred to run. Yes, it was cowardly. But when it came down to it, with Cordelia, he knew that when he fell this time…. He wouldn't find the bottom. There were consequences of falling in love with your best friend, human influence, and at times the only thing that kept you sane in this road of life.
Frankly, all of those troublesome thoughts and feelings were put on the back burner when suddenly, out of the blue…. Darla reentered the scene. Chaos ensued, Cordelia almost died, and his lie was revealed. Somehow, his relationship with his seer remained intact. And that was indeed partly due to the miracle baby that was born. His precious son, Connor.
Life still remained unbalanced for the A.I. gang though. Between different species and cults trying to take his son, Wolfram and Hart attempting to step in to dissect such a phenomenon, and an old feared enemy from days when the fanged four ruled in Europe suddenly showing up mysteriously… stress had become a ruling factor. For this sudden first time father, things were becoming more frightening and confusing.
But eventually, the whole team came together and took care of most of the threats against baby Connor. All that remained who were stupid enough to even think about messing with Angel's family was of course, his arch nemesis Wolfram and Hart, and Daniel Holtz.
At least things resembled some normalcy after the first, few, rough days of the newborn. Such as his friendship with Cordelia. There had been no room for any romantic thinking or lust filled fantasies at all. Between Cordy's demonizing, Angel's money kick, and Fred nearly having her head cut off, any naughty, romantic notions had never entered the picture. With the big head start on Connor's future collage fund and a promise from Angel to keep what was important before the old mighty dollar, it seemed that things would settle down enough for their minds to catch up with the whirlwind of drama that had been dropped in their laps.
Hell, Angel didn't even blink when the woman who had plagued his confused thoughts before the drama was now sleeping over… allot… in his bed… with himself… and of course little Connor…
Big mistake on his part. Letting down his guard had not only hit hard one night when he noticed that he cleared some space in his dresser and closet for some of Cordelia's things, it also opened more of Pandora's box. Somehow, Cordy wormed her way further in despite of his defences, causing havoc on his many decades of self imposed self control. It made him feel raw, vulnerable, and beyond erratic.
Angel didn't know who to fear more. The demon within that demanded blood, sex, and possession, or the weak, selfish man that wanted it all. Such as friendship, love, the mission, and the joining of both soul and body in every way possible. Both sides were selfish, and apparently in total agreement concerning his treasured friend. The only thing standing between giving in and taking what he wanted, was not acknowledging the driving force behind it all. It was a simple four lettered word that he personally knew would destroy everything, thanks to some gypsies who really knew how to stick it to a vampire.
Damn gypsies.
So, life for Angel at the moment was more of a struggle than it has ever been. Fighting and refusing to give a name to non platonic feelings would make anybody crazy. Especially when you see that special person day in and day out. Always within touching distance, giving you smiles that make you feel like a shy school boy, simple gestures that before never really called for attention, but now suddenly caused a instant, embarrassing reaction. Being around Cordelia had suddenly turned this 240 plus year old vampire into some adolescent with no control over physical and emotional reactions.
Oh yeah, Angel was ready to lose it. He was beyond irritable by the time some tiny insect like demons had decided that they were going to infest the old Hyperion hotel. Like roaches, their numbers increased daily due to the female of their species filled to the brim with eggs. And also like the hated insects, they were really hard to kill with simple means of poison and such. Able to adapt to any environment and supernatural killing means. A lot of money was put into ridding the pests, in which caused Angel's irritable behavior to rise to the frightening levels of a bear being interrupted during hibernation.
Thank The Powers for Lorne's contacts. A specialist was called and exterminated the creatures and their hidden nests with special means and spells. The final battle had ending in the lobby after moving from the kitchen and Wesley's office. It was long and hard, but at last the entire pest problem was solved…. But in doing so it left a large mess to clean up, in which the shaman and his team stated that it wasn't their job to clean up the aftermath.
If it wasn't for the baby that was at the time being held in Angel's arms, the shaman's career of being a demonic pest exterminator would have ended along with his life.
Smelly puss and bits covered the lobby, office, and large kitchen. Incredibly sticky, and with a smell that would make the sewers smell like roses, cleaning duty was a chore that nobody could get any enjoyment out of. The gang (minus Lorne since he had eagerly volunteered in taking Connor upstairs for a nap when it became clear that all the cleaning was not going to be done by hired professionals) had used every single one of their cleaning supplies that belonged to their business. Even Angel and Fred's own stash for their apartments didn't completely work for all of the mess. Eventually, it was decided by all that their business petty cash-box would be used in getting more supplies, gloves, and renting special cleaning machines since the mops were useless in this instance.
While Gunn and Wesley had eagerly volunteered to accompany Fred in shopping for the products needed, and Lorne and Connor were out of sight and mind in Angel's apartment, the grumpy vampire and Cordy were left to their lonesome in the lobby. Needless to say, the atmosphere was charged and tense, not in a good way.
You see, Cordelia noticed how her vamp has been acting lately. The bad mood swings were increasingly getting worse, almost as if the silly manpire was PMSing on a permanent basis. And being someone who was perceptive, it didn't take her long to know that somehow, she was the cause. Plus, the low growls that he unsuccessfully tried to hide whenever she touched him, was a big tip off. She didn't need that irritating blue dog and her paw-print clues to tell her that.
Cordelia would be lying if she said she wasn't hurt. Despite the personal bubble that she is known to cherish like the finest of shoes, touching was still something she needed. Especially with Angel, for some odd and irritating reason.
Cordy missed the tender feeling of being held by her champion. Ever since she was demonized, she no longer needed to be caught or held since the pain was no longer there. At first, she loved that fact. But now…. She wished she could take back her personal bubble statements whenever Angel attempted his coddling after having her pain free visions.
It was like there was this insane need for that connection that she couldn't really put into words. It was more than that seer and warrior bond that was between them. Of that she will reluctantly admit. The best way to describe it was that it was something primal that begged to be fulfilled. It almost made her feel needy. Especially lately, since she no longer got any manly cuddles from her favorite care bear with fangs. (She didn't dare call him that anymore since the last time he went on some tirade about vampires having nothing in common with freaky, colorful bears that lived where clouds and rainbows are in abundance.
Cordelia hated being needy just as much as she hated demon goo on her shoes. But she hated feeling so empty without those touches even more. Damn it, she wanted his attention on her! Selfish as it seems, it felt vital to her sanity to breach personal bubbles. If this wacky emptiness wasn't filled soon, Cordy just knew that she would explode…. That would show the big jerk. Cordy bits would be among all the yucky that were covering the counters and furniture in the lobby.
With that disturbing imagery in mind, Cordy quickly dropped her soiled rag and remaining cleaning spray on the slimy counter to go join the vamp in scrubbing the island couch. She called on her acting skills and put on a nonchalant manner as she kneel-ed down beside his large bulk, an inch of space separating her heated body and his cool one. As soon as she grabbed one of the bristle brushes, Angel visibly stiffened and froze. Pretending not to notice his 'Back off!' signs, she dipped the brush in the soapy water in the bucket, and resumed scrubbing.
"You know, I'm thinking that-"
"This isn't working," Angel growled.
Cordelia froze, looking at the vampire whose gaze refused to meet her eyes.
"Uh," her mouth felt dry as she tried to come up with something to say. After all, she didn't think she looked that desperate in attempting to get right up close and personal within his alluring sphere… Did she?
"We'll have to wait for the others to come back with the supplies," he continued with gritted teeth as he threw the brush on the couch.
He stood up and stormed off to Wesley's office, leaving Cordelia alone to feel the freezing temperatures of his brush off. It brought back the memory of the first time she saw him at the Bronze. She had just suffered the sting of experiencing Buffy Summers holding the attention of one of her own crushes full attention. Back then, nobody had ever chosen another over Cordelia Chase… Till Little-Miss-Likes-To-Fight stepped in the scene of Sunnydale High.
So when the mysterious, gorgeous piece of male perfection didn't bother to spare her a glance and instead went to join the Buffy-love Conga line, the strange feeling of rejection had hit hard. And not just to her pride, either. Though Lord knows she had plenty of that!
Like then, it angered and frustrated her. And since there was no tiny blond with freakish supernatural strength around to be the cause, Cordelia took the intentional brush off personally. Just because she's grown up a lot since her snob days, didn't mean that her vanity was no longer a part of her. Nobody likes to be intentionally ignored, least of all Cordelia Chase.
With that in mind, Cordy threw any caution or pride to the side in order to get her friend's attention. Before, she wouldn't demean herself to such lower levels of capturing a Male's attention. Never mind the Sunnydale days when she embellished the damsel in distress act in order to seduce the clueless vamp, always hanging on his arm when the opportunity arose. But there was even a line back then she wouldn't cross. But like Buffy once told Angel, love makes us do the wacky.
And if Cordy had realized that love long denied was that driving force behind her next stunt, she would have left the hotel that very instant and wouldn't return for a week… or longer.
Angel was in a world of his own in the office. All doors and blinds were closed in order to shut out the temptation that threatened to open his flimsy locks over his instincts and hidden devotion. But it wasn't working. All he could think about was his near loss of control.
Though despite of his seemingly, absorbed, interest in scrubbing the stains on the couch, his entire focus and senses were completely captured by Cordelia. Her scent had surrounded him like some exotic perfume while the sound of her heartbeat seemed to beat within his own chest. Never has he felt this attuned to another without the hunting part involved. Every sigh that escaped her lips didn't go unnoticed, nor the feeling of her searching looks.
The weight of it all was quickly becoming a problem.
And then, as if reading his thoughts, she went and joined him; her thighs almost brushing up against his as she knelt down beside him. Her quickening heartbeat told of her own awareness of him and their closeness, nearly sending him over the edge that he's been finding himself balancing on for some time now.
Like the predator he was, he had froze in preparation of pouncing as she innocently picked up a scrub brush, nearly brushing up against his arm. Every hair seemed to be standing up, his senses fully alert with every move she made as she began to scrub. His dark eyes quickly darted to the woman beside him, taking in all at once what she was wearing.
There was really nothing remarkable about her clothes. Like the rest of the gang, she had on her oldest and most casual clothing for the cleaning job that they faced. Wearing faded jeans that had seen better days, and an old cheerleader sweatshirt, two sizes too big; it was apparent that sexy wasn't what she was going for. And yet Angel never found her more tempting as he did then. No make-up, clothes that somewhat hid her ripe curves, and shoulder length hair swept up in a messy pony-tail. Every bit of it that was supposed to be declaring the total lack of sexual temptation was in fact, doing the opposite.
At that moment, he wanted to hate her for taking away his control so easily. But that itself would be impossible because of the lo-
Needless to say, Angel realized he had better escape before he would do something stupid. Like speak aloud again about this thing not going to work. So, giving her a lousy excuse, he had quickly entered the office to shut out everything. Usually, he would have run upstairs to his apartment, but, he wasn't really thinking with a clear head at the time… Or the right one….
Sitting back in his old office chair, he tried to do anything but brood on his best friend. Because brooding would lead to obsessing, and obsessing would lead to action, and action would lead to…. Baaaad things. His twitchy eyes glanced at the clock on the wall. The others have only been gone for ten minutes. And since the proper equipment needed for the deep cleaning that needed to be done was across town, it would at least take them forty to forty-five minutes with the mid day traffic… Possibly longer since the two guys would prolong all contact with Fred. Far longer than necessary. But, it's already been about thirty or so minutes, so that meant that he had to hold out a little while longer…
He could do that, no problem. As long as the guys and nosey, little Fred got their act to together and don't take any side trips.
His eyes narrowed at the thought of the young, intelligent brunette. Irrationally, he began to blame her for his state of craziness. After all, if it wasn't for her talk of champions and fate and gut attractions, then maybe he could have ignored his normal male attraction to Cordelia. After all, it wasn't only himself who was drooling over the dancing siren that fateful day. Right?
Yup, Fred was to blame here. There was nothing more to his feelings for his dear friend. He's a blond kind of guy. Brunettes just didn't do it for him… Never mind that Dru was his favorite to play with…. Or the disappointment he felt when he rejoined the team to find that Cordelia had cut off all that glorious, dark mahogany hair and lightened it with some honey strands. He could remember thanking The Powers that she didn't go all the way and actually bleached it blond. Her dark hair was so soft and….
Angel groaned as he rubbed his temples. It was bad enough that he couldn't convince himself in not being attracted to her, but to suddenly go on a rambling rampage in his brain over her hair was just so… pathetic.
As if hearing his frustrated thoughts, the thorn in his side suddenly opened the double doors across from Wesley's desk dramatically. Like some western movie, the two's eyes met and carefully observed the other. Almost as if they were waiting the right moment to draw their weapons and have at it. All it would take would be one, wrong move.
"Cue the old, stand-off, Western gun theme here," Angel thought to himself, hearing the familiar tune playing in the background in his mind.
The boy slayer relaxed a bit as she settled in her role. Any thoughts of what was bad or not a good idea were long shut out of her thinking process. This was instincts that were the main driving force in her goal of crossing boundaries and popping personal bubbles. The emotional closeness that has been lacking recently had made its mark, leaving her confused and missing something. Something that only her old, dorky friend could give her.
Without a word to the stone faced vampire, she entered the room. With an audible click, she closed the doors behind her, assuring their privacy.
Eyes that eerily reminded him of a predator, Angel watched as his seer crossed the room to get to Wesley's desk. Aware of every movement, he continued to observe without voicing his curiosity and need for space. Though the space part clearly needed to be defined since the silent brunette thought it appropriate to sit herself on top of the corner of the desk that wasn't covered in demon parts. Her legs crossed, seemingly brushing up against his oh so innocently.
The growl thankfully stayed lodged in his chest, too soft for human ears to hear.
Brown eyes flashed gold when his tormentor suddenly gave a deep, exaggerated sigh, causing her generous bosom to lift as her chest expanded from the air breathed in. Then, slowly deflate as the air was slowly exhaled.
"Is it just me, or does it seem that we don't spend enough time together?"
The coy question from the 'Say it – Think it' young woman sitting before him was a little startling. Though in truth, it did have a certain straight forward-ness to it, despite the way it seemed to hedge around something. Suspicion was soon followed by puzzled curiosity.
"Cordy, we see each other just about every day."
'If anything, we spend too much time around each other,' Angel thought to himself, his body reacting in the typical manner it always seems to do.
"No, I mean, yes, we do. But, lately…. Does it seem like we never have time together that doesn't involve the others, demon-y things, or visions?"
Again, one leg bumped against his, only in a more caressing manner.
"I-I'm not sure what…. You're…"
"'Cause I was thinking," Cordelia continued before he could ramble and stutter even more, "that we don't."
"Don't," questioned the flustered vampire as the young woman leaned over. The hidden, almost coppery, tiny specks in her dark, brown eyes had seemingly turned golden with the playful, intensity shining from their dark depths.
"Do you realize that it's been over two weeks since you last trained me?"
For the life of him, he couldn't think of a valid reason why he's avoided that part with her. Not when he found himself caught in her predators gaze. So inviting, tempting, and full of untouched passion. Dark eyes flickered away to something equally as tempting; her plump mouth in all its natural glory. No cherry lip gloss today. Instead, their natural, pinkish, peach color had him drawn to them like Winnie The Pooh to a pot of honey.
"It's been that long," was Angel's throaty, questioning reply as he unconsciously licked his lips. He leaned forward from Wesley's office chair, inching toward the pouty form of sinful temptation.
"Too long," she huskily answered. "I haven't had a willing Angel snuggle for what seems like ages. I miss those snuggles."
"Mmmm. Snuggles."
His eyes began to close as their faces both tilted as they leaned in for a kiss.
"Angel," she whispered and half moaned.
Cordy felt the mood suddenly shift when Angel tensed, a breath away from her strangely trembling, waiting lips. His eyes opened as if just waking from a wonderful dream, only to realize he was actually in a nightmare. Realizing that her little bit of flirting in getting Angel to show her some form of attention, had completely crossed a line in the sand that was put there for good reasons. Though thankfully, she didn't cross the one with the sign that warned trespassers that they would be shot by even thinking about crossing over. Hurt and embarrassment mixed as they pulled back simultaneously, his face closed off to her searching gaze.
At this point, she knew it would be best if she left Angel alone in the office and to allow him his brood time. Their near kiss would be considered a Faux pas, and would never be mentioned or acknowledged as soon as she would leave the office. Everything could go back to normal as the near mistake and her obvious flirting would be forgotten and sink down beneath the river call Denial.
But she couldn't and wouldn't do that. Her brain raged against her stupid, rapidly beating heart in wanting to stay and see where this was heading. But her heart for some reason needed to not prove to be a coward…. A coward of what, she wasn't quite clear on. But nonetheless, she knew that if she left, she would regret it like nothing else she's regretted in her twenty-one years.
When it was clear to Angel that she wasn't going to brush off whatever almost occurred and leave, he became irrationally angry. Damn her proud nature! Always too rebellious for her own good, determined to face whatever obstacle in her path. Even if it's himself who she has to face. A brief memory of the time he hemmed her in against the bookshelf at the office Wesley, herself, and Gunn had rented during his beige period, flashed before his eyes with High Definition details.
Wide, doe eyes looking up into his own as her chin jutted out in defiance of his threatening stance. Her fear filling every single pore of his body as he panted and tasted everything her body was offering. Anger, hurt, that delicious prey worth fear mentioned before, and a slight, barely there hint of womanly arousal.
"Don't make me move you."
He had felt more than seen her shiver. It sent a pleasurable thrill through his soul and all the way to the demon caged within. Bars rattled as violent, seductive thoughts came and tempted him more than a bleeding human would at that moment. His hands had twitched as both the man and demon within yearned for dark, hidden fantasies to become reality. All that he was waiting on was for her to give him the final push like he knew she would. An evil smirk nearly breached the surface of his tightened lips at that moment when the flash of fear had slipped over her mask of righteous anger, then was replaced with a challenging look that dared him to try it.
Angel shuddered and quickly pushed back the vivid memory, inwardly glad that Wesley had been there to talk some sense into the willful brunette. Although, even that wouldn't have stopped him if she would have given him the excuse to take her with him in his decent into hopeless darkness.
"Uh, Angel? Hello? Whoo-hooooo!"
Her concerned face filled his vision as she slipped off the desk to get down on the floor between his knees, hands supporting her weight on his thighs. Gone was the seductress, replaced by his ever worrying, Florence Nightingale as she cupped his cheek.
"You okay, big guy?"
The guilty, horror filled expression on his face was replaced with relief as he pressed his cheek up against her hand. The tender moment was soon gone as the usual, stony expression he had on these days took precedence. Slowly, he pushed her hand away as he gave her a quick nod.
"I'm fine."
And that was the straw that broke the camel's back. The thing that pushed her past in listening to the voice of reason and wisdom. For at that moment, she was transported back to a time of the early days in their old office. Every time she tried approaching him then with her usual quirky and witty way in getting him to share his feelings, he would push her away with those two words and a look of complete nothingness. And though it slightly hurt her then, the pain and frustration it brought now was nothing compared to those days. For now, they were beyond fellow companions fighting the good fight. They were friends, best friends! The bonds they forged didn't allow secrets and walls any more.
Angel watched with growing interest at the different emotions that crossed her treasured facial features. Hurt, confusion, anger, then something ken to resignation. For a moment, he felt both guilt and relief when she stood up and backed away from him. At last, he finally succeeded in getting her to leave him be. Because he really did need the space in order for him to get past this thing between them. He would do anything to keep this most treasured of all relationships, her friendship meant more to him than words could ever express.
He just hoped that when all was said and done, she would be understanding and willing to forgive him for pulling away from her in this period of adjustment.
Angel's thoughts were once again interrupted by the one who caused them in the first place. Instead of leaving, Cordelia had went over to the small, portable CD player placed on the mini fridge. Confusion turned to full blow horror as she reached for the small, black CD holder that held some of her collection of favorites from home.
No,no,no,no,no,no,no,no! Not that! Anything but-
Her hands paused as a small smile appeared, then quickly erased itself as she gave him a quick glance as she pulled out a CD with the words, "Hot Mix Of Yumminess" written on the surface with a black marker. This didn't bode well with his already fragile self control.
His mouth was dry, and felt like the driest of deserts as the CD player's lid popped open. She slowly placed the round disk in, then closed it with the same exaggerated slowness of a Snell. Self preservation ordered him to grab the CD player and smash it into a million pieces…. Then the same self preservation instinct warned him of the more than likely scenario of having some precious bits of his anatomy cut off by Cordelia, if he followed through with the first impulse. The CD player was something she bought for the office out of her own wallet…. Well, actually from his wallet if you want to get technical. Somehow, the little minx had convinced him that it was not only a grand gesture on his part for his friends and coworkers in buying something that would help them pass the non-action hours without going crazy, but also his sacred duty in his climb up the redemption ladder….
Hell, he should have destroyed the thing instead of going off into another mental rant! Now, he was in too deep to do anything about it.
To his surprise, her hand had paused over the switch to turn on the device. His brown eyes met hers reluctantly.
"We should really clean up Wesley's office for him," Cordelia broke the silence.
"You can't," Angel replied, inwardly cursing himself for the perfect control over his facial expression, but not over his voice. Damn it, he sounded like some Choir boy that just started puberty!
The boy slayer was pushed aside as the Queen stood up from her throne, her arched eyebrow raised in its warning for him to tread carefully. The Scourge of Europe instantly heeded her unspoken order as he tried to use as much tact as possible.
"Wesley and the others will be back with the stronger stuff…. To…," Angel pointed at the pieces of their fallen enemies that covered the top of the oak desk with its sticky substance. "Take care of…. the things here. Besides, we're out of everything, so…. You'll just have to wait."
He was expecting her freakishly scary Chase glare, and even a 'Dumb-ass' and a well earned question on the legitimacy of his parentage. What he didn't expect was the sinful smirk that took place of innocence and purity. Angel couldn't help but question the fact of how the demon became the prey to a twenty-one year old woman…. Must be the little bit of demon The Powers put in her.
"Angel," she began "I wasn't asking for your opinion. Besides, there are more ways to skin a cat."
Was it wrong of him to get off on her violent terminology of that fact?
As if The Powers That Be had suddenly slowed time in their amusement of his inner turmoil, Angel watched as every movement became motion picture slow. Her fingers slowly pressed the play button, then reached for the skip forward one to find the song she was looking for. He opened his mouth to shout no, but nothing came out as his undoing came in the form of a song from an old, beyond bizarre yet intriguing move, named 'The Rocky Horror Show.' The song itself was performed slightly differently, and soon Angel will find out that another gal will be singing her little heart out, sounding just as innocent and lustful as the starlet from the movie had.
Though, it wasn't the singing siren that would tear down walls today. That would be the woman slowly making her way toward him as the fresh young singer began to sing what Cordelia's body was telling him…
I was feeling done in, couldn't win
I'd only ever kissed before.
It didn't even cross Angel's mind to laugh at that part, due to her none virgin status. (Not that he would laugh if his brain was working in the first place.) His main focus was the way her entire persona took on that of innocence in its entirety. Her eyes seemingly rounded as her lips parted in wonder and part shyness. Enticing him, calling out to the man that once ravished most of the young maidens in his village. Conquest… Submission… Dominaiting… Taking.
Cordelia paused, standing just to the side of the desk. Her eyes locked with his as she cautiously closed the distance between them, her legs brushing up against his knees in just as innocently as her demeanor. But something in those eyes told him that there was no claim of coincidence with what is about to take place. And definitely no innocence.
As the next line in the verse began, she knelt down on her knees and placed her hands on his knees to steady herself. Her touch felt like searing, hot iron. And he should know, since he was on the receiving end of red, hot, iron pokers skewering his body during the beginning of his stay in LA after Sunnydale. That burning intensified once the singer got to a certain part about petting, in which those sneaky little hands found their way to his pectoral muscles.
I thought there's use getting into heavy petting
It only leads to trouble and seat wetting
It was worse than he thought. As he watched her hands touch the buttons of his shirt with his usual stoic expression, he was of course inwardly hyperventilating. His black jeans were beginning to feel too tight around the crouch area, in which betrayed his so called self control. If she looked down, then… then… He would be beyond screwed.
At the back of his mind, he found himself hoping that the screwing would be literally.
But just as her hands began to trail back down, (Her eyes were thankfully still locked on his face.) the song picked up an alluring beat. Cordelia was suddenly standing and leaning against the desk, hands playing with the hem of her large, old sweatshirt. And yes, he should be fleeing, and thankful that she was unknowingly giving him the opportunity to escape. But no, apparently his ass was glued to the stupid office chair. And again another no, he was not thankful for her suddenly less close proximity that would allow him to escape this Twilight Zone.
Now all I want to know is how to go
All inner grumblings ceased when those hands actually began to lift the hem of her overly large, Sunnydale High sweatshirt, revealing her golden, tight stomach, toned to perfection.
She wouldn't seriously… Oh God. OH GOD! YESSSS!
The ugly old sweatshirt was gone! And he couldn't be any happier!... Or terrified. The red sports-bra kept her cleavage confined, but just barely so. The generous rack that is all Cordelia looked as if they were ready to burst from their bindings; pushing together and giving a sexy, shadowy, bra line cleavage that had him wanting for so much more.
I've tasted blood and I want more
(More! More! More!)
As he watched those hands reach up and pull out her scrunchy, then run through those silky strands of dark brunette and artificial honey strands, the words of the song had the demon caged within complete and frightening attention. Perfect clarity and senses for hunting were fully on Cordelia, and in the over drive version of the word. Blood… Want… More… More… More… Were the singer and Cordelia trying to kill him? Just because he's dead, doesn't mean that-
Angel felt Cordelia grab his rumpled, collar and haul him up to his feet. Her sweatshirt was thrust into his hands, which did distract and confuse him long enough for her to keep him from escaping… while in a very sneaky fashion placing her hands around his waist. Suddenly, she closed the remaining distance between them, her chest firmly against his body, causing him to let out a very, early Wesley, girly, Sunnydale yelp.
I've put up no resistance, I want to stay the distance
Feeling like very much a yo-yo, she pushed him back and twirled around, stopping behind him. Annoyed, confused, and intrigued, he stayed still and allowed himself to lean into her body as it pressed up against his. One hand gripped his bicep almost painfully. And then those nails on that hand dug in and scratched downward…
I've got an itch to scratch, and I need assistance!
She was suddenly in front of him again, her back flush up against his. One large hand was placed precariously just above her left breast as the other one that still had the sweatshirt in a death grip was plopped on top of the desk. Both her hands rested on top of his own, guiding them in a circling motion. One for emphasis on the touch she was craving, the other cleaning up some of the slime that was left on top of Wesley's desk.
Toucha, Toucha, Toucha, touch me,
I wanna be dirty!
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me,
Creature of the night!
As his finally caught on to the movement she wanted, the vixen yet again changed tactics on him when reaching the thrilling, chilling, and fulfilling part. Her body had slid down his and then back up, creating a delicious friction that his now aching body craved for. It was frustrating as hell, but just as hot!
She suddenly turned around as the Creature of the night was belted out, her hands reaching up and beginning to unbutton two buttons on his shirt. They paused as the music itself slowed down and the piano making a tempting sound of what was to come next.
Glancing down for a split second, his temptress gave him a cheeky grin and a wink before sliding away from view yet again.
Dammit!
Her hands kept in touch with his hard body as she slid back into the contours of the back of his body, her hands rubbing small circles across his tight abs, then trailing lower and lower till they stopped just above the telling signs of his arousal. By then, his brain had officially headed south for the winter, leaving no room for coherent thoughts. For he was her prisoner and prey, being stalked, hunted, and subdued. The Scourge of Europe has finally come to know what it felt like to be on the receiving end of helplessness of a formidable foe.
At that moment, if she had offered an S&M fest just between them as she played the Dom and he the Sub, there would have been no argument.
Then if anything grows while you pose
I'll oil you up and rub you down
(Down! Down! Down!)
As soon as the young singer mentioned down, those small, manicured hands had reached the top opening of his shirt, then in one swift and almost violent motion, ripped the black, old button shirt off his body. Buttons flew everywhere, scattering all across the desk and the floor. Then, with a dramatic flair that seemed inspired by the extra downs, she flung it over his shoulder. The now useless shirt landed beside hers on the desk, making the moment even more intimate. Angel gulped as he felt the seemingly smoldering air around him caress his near bare chest, the white, wife beater still in place.
As the song continued, she pushed him back in the office chair, bending over and slowly lifting the last thing that kept his sculpted and drool worthy chest and abs from her heated sight.
And that's just one small fraction, of the main attraction
(Oh!)
You need a friendly hand
(Ooaah!)
And I need action!
This time, Angel didn't need her forceful and seductive body storytelling to tell him what she wanted. (And neither the action comment.) He turned her around and pulled her down on top of his lap, not caring that she could feel his excitement. The torture and pleasure came as her hips wiggled when she reached forward and grabbed his ripped shirt and her sweatshirt from the desk was worth it. It was near blissful, in fact. With growing passion, he kept playing the submissive part as she drove them onward to more forbidden things.
Toucha, Toucha, Toucha, Touch me,
I wanna be dirty!
Angel groaned loudly as she pushed back, rubbing him in all the right ways while backing them quickly towards a extra sticky puddle of blood and guts. The two shirts were dropped upon the puddle, as well as their feet. Then together, they began to use their feet and rags as mops, picking up mess while rubbing and circling their hips in perfect harmony. Both had their eyes closed as the lyrics of the song and their movements pushed them beyond the boundaries that all of this world and curses had placed, and into each others waiting arms.
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me,
Creature of the night!
Toucha, toucha, toucha, touch me,
I wanna be dirty!
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me,
Creature of the niiiight!
Cordelia pushed herself up and turned around, her face flushed and the pupils of her eyes nearly covering the entirety of the dark, brown color of the irises. Two hands gripped the armrests of the chair as she pushed him back to the desk eagerly. His own two, large, cool hands reached up and cupped her face as she did so, his eyes telling her of all the feelings he himself hid and denied. When they reached her intended destination, the grin left his face when she didn't eagerly jump into his waiting arms. But it soon came back with eager, wicked anticipation.
God, he loved cleaning day!
All of the remaining objects on Wesley's desk was swept off, leaving the surface bare and for the most part, clean. She laid back on the desk, completely lost in the erotic song that sung what's been locked up in her very soul. Angel stood up and watched as a goddess of passion was born, her skin slightly glowing as she began to move upon the desk while rubbing her hands all over her body.
(squeals)
Toucha, Toucha, Toucha, Touch me,
I wanna be dirty!
Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me,
Creature of the niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!)
As the singer held her note, other voices came and told him what her body and heart wants. And it threw him off balance, but in a good way.
Creature of the night!
Angel began to touch her, though not going over the no touch zones that her hands were so shamelessly doing.
Creature of the night!
It was like he was in a wet dream, and honestly he partly wondered if he was indeed in one, at this very moment. Her face was enraptured, filled with pleasure and lust. Soft, keening noises escaped the back of her throat and left through her parted, smiling lips. Her skin felt like liquid fire, both burning and soothing his pale skin. She was soft and silky, just as he fantasied on more than one occasion.
Angel was tempted to give her the creature she craved and needed, but the small and ever present logical side convinced him to hold back. For now, he would commit every facial expression and sound to memory.
Creature of the night!
The two were so wrapped up with each other and the song, that neither noticed the door by the office window open, nor a certain, green demon pausing as he gazed at the erotic scene on display. As one arm held the now awake baby Connor close to his body, the other covered his oh so innocent, blue eyes. As for his own peepers, he was keeping them wide opened as he used his extra senses to see and read what he could in the auras.
Creature of the night?
Besides the obvious sexy movie of the week flick the gorgeous couple were so generously offering, their auras was putting up quite a light show. Sparks of bright white light was erupting amongst the different colors that kept blinking and mixing. Strands of these colors of both auras reached out and caressed the other, and at times possessively wrapped themselves around each other in a tight embrace. One thing other than the obvious captured his attention, and that was Cordelia's streak of grey that balanced Angel's streak of darkness. Together, they became the definition of harmony.
Frankly, it was rare to see such passionate aura action. But see it he did, in which it confirmed some suspicions he's had for awhile.
Creature of the night!
Lorne continued to watch and study with a growing grin.
Creature of the night!
Sadly, after the last fiasco that the fang gang dropped in his lap that had destroyed his club… again, not to mention his living quarters also suffered, the demon found himself homeless. And because of that, the green lounge singer had to move in with the vampire that had those trendy, leather coats. Said vampire had cable and hooked it up for Lorne in his hotel room…. But the cheapskate had the cheapest package in the cable department, which meant that the naughty channels would not be there for Lorne's viewing pleasure.
But this little PG-13, (bordering on R if Angel would just go ahead and touch and cup her aching body parts to his heart's content) rated show made up for most of his disgruntlement.
Connor began to get restless, therefore letting the green demon know that his peeping was coming to an end. Releasing the infants eyes, he quickly and silently closed the door and left, whispering to the baby with a sing song voice.
"Looks like daddy and momma bear are finally waking up and smelling the coffee, my little Stud Muffin Jr. All they have to do now is to admit it to each other. There's a little saying among my people about Kyrumption and Moira. But we'll wait till you're older before explaining what that means."
Creature of the night!
It felt like something inside had been released. A dam had finaly broken, allowing the water to flood the valleys of Cordelia's soul. She wanted Angel. She wanted all of him. His heart, body and soul! Somehow, and some way her best friend had scaled the walls around her heart, and pick locked the box that held everything she wanted to forget and deny. But now, she wondered why she ever did that in the first place.
Eyes opening at last, she looked up into his smoldering, nearly black eyes and found what her heart has long suppressed. She wanted this. She wanted his touch. She wanted this handsome, sweet, emotionally stunted…
Creature of the night!
She pushed herself up and hooked one leg around his hip while both hands reached up and planted themselves across his heaving chest. As the singer squealed, she then wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her cheek over where his heart would have been racing if he were human.
The two just stayed like that for some good long moments, their minds trying to catch up where already their hearts and bodies were. At the exact same time, they parted slightly to look into each others eyes. Eyes obviously glazed over with lust, mouths opened as pants came forth, the two found to their delight that they were in perfect, prime position to seal the deal with a earth shattering kiss. And with the next song that was slow and seductive playing softly in the background, the mood for this kiss was perfect.
When opened mouths slightly brushed up against each other, cold clarity settled in for the one who started this mess to begin with.
Angel's eyes blinked rapidly when the almost kiss didn't turn into what he was expecting. Gentle, yielding hands shifted till they planted themselves over his pectoral muscles, though not in a sexual manner. Feeling her push, he gave a little to finally get a good look at her entire, beautiful face.
Confusion and growing embarrassment that had replaced the passion earlier had him puzzled and feeling uneasy. The fear that soon overtook everything else in her eyes had him petrified and finally landing back in the reality of their intimate situation. Cordelia jerked as if she had been seriously burned when he tried to cup her cheek. Sensing her distress and feeling a heaping portion of his own, he tried to soothe away the tension and growing dread.
"Cordy-"
Laughter and easy banter had stopped anything else needed to be said. Cursing his friends and the fates untimely interruptions, Angel jumped back and began to rub the back of his neck in that nervous, habit forming way of his. Cordelia was a step further in the thinking process and immediately went searching for her shirt. The state it was in made it unusable and not fit to wear, and probably never to be worn ever again since no way those demon guts and unknown slime origins was going to come out in a dozen washes. So, in a fit of panic, she grabbed the one thing that would cover her half state of undress. Thankfully, her inspiration for using their own clothes for cleaning rags did not include Angel's white, wife beater. Slipping on the too large top, she quickly exited the office with a smile that was too bright and strained to fool anybody.
"You're back!"
"Sorry it took so long. But I was hungry again, despite that we already ate a big lunch here. So Wes and Gunn took me to get some ice cream, and then Gunn said that ice cream goes great with curly fries and Wesley suggested that we should go walk since it was a nice day and all, but really I think it was to walk off the lunch, ice cream and yummy, spicy curly fries so that-"
"Wow! Sounds like loads of fun! In fact, it gets me in the mood for some frozen yogurt, so I think I'll just go and-"
"Cordelia, why are you wearing Angel's shirt?"
Cordy nervously gulped at the question her too nosey friend Wesley asked. Gunn had an eyebrow arched as they settled the grocery bags and the machinery needed for the cleaning down. As for Fred, well, a big, knowing and hopeful grin spread across her pretty, pixie like features.
All eyes turned to look whatever was beyond her. Despite knowing what she would find, she turned to look over her shoulder at Angel, leaning against the door frame of the office. The big guy having no shirt on was suspicious. But when the dork decides to be taking the time now to be holding both the button-less shirt of his and her own icky sweatshirt, well, that was practically shouting what not so platonic-like things they had been doing... Plus the song playing in the background was getting heated up and... God, she was in deep here!
"Oh… dear."
"What the?... No… No freakin' way, man! You dawg!"
"Kyrumption wins!"
"No! It's not what you… I mean, yeah, kinda, sorta what you're thinking. But not really! Honest!... I…"
Cordelia could feel the airway in her throat constrict as hysteria began to settle in. She didn't know what to say about what happened, or to even describe it. Or if she should. With one last look at her silent champion, Cordelia Chase did what she's never done in an embarrassing, emotionally scary situation…. She ran out of that hotel like the frightened rabbit she never is. And she didn't look back….
The next night, after the ballet and Groo showing up….
Angel opened his closet again and took out the tux coat, bringing it back up to his nose. Inhaling deeply, he let the different smells he experienced that evening sweep him up in the fresh memories it stirred. Her special perfume she only wore on dates filled his senses, its heavenly scent thick and so feminine. But the thing that stood out and branded itself on the rest of his clothes and tongue, was the scent that was in its purest form of the woman that's haunted his dreams and fantasies. Cordelia's arousal.
With a groan, he asked himself why was he torturing himself with this prolonged stroll through memory lane? Didn't he already decide to push all feelings that this night stirred into a crescendo of music as far as possibly away? To snuff out any delusional hope and wayward truths that shouldn't and never can be more? Yes, he did. As soon as he entered his sanctuary and smelled the one thing that nobody can take away from him, his son, he had already begun the process.
He had done a pretty good job of it too. Turning around anything his nosey, green friend had to say about the status of his feelings in regards of his seer, was proof of that. In fact, he had the Host giving up and allowing him to enjoy doing what he does best, being alone…. Too bad that didn't happen till after Lorne had unknowingly put a crack in his emotional, wall of solitude by mentioning the perfume on his jacket.
Damn it! I should never had let that jolly green demon stay here. But no, I had to be all noble, and feeling guilty for Holtz's little baby gift for us in his bar and offer him a place here.
With a disgusted snort, he gently and reluctantly placed the jacket back in the closet. His shoulders slumped as he unbuttoned the now wrinkled, white, dress shirt. The pain in his heart throbbing like a physical wound, bleeding and so very raw. Something that wasn't new to the soulful vampire, though it was new in a sense from Cordelia being the one who inflicted this world of sorrow.
Though there was no cure for the heartbreak, holding his son and submerging himself in a parental love that was the safest and most strongest of feelings proved to be therapeutic. But even that didn't last long when his son couldn't keep his bright eyes open. After putting his son back in his crib with a kiss goodnight, he found himself again left alone with his emotions.
Angel knew he should be happy for Cordelia. It's not often a champion…. Of sorts, cross traveled dimensions for his fair lady. Though a tiny voice in the back of his mind argued that he did that himself for the willful brunette. And with the abnormal, dangerous lives they led, having a lasting relationship was just entirely impossible. Who outside of their group that didn't face and experience what they have could ever understand and cope? Nobody, that's who. Which in a way, in some shape or form had sealed the deal over their love lives. It was a miracle and something Cordy deserved to have found that with a man... well, half breed, decent, guy who could give her the protection she needs, and everything else that a creature of a night could not.
So with all of that in mind, why did it hurt so damn much? Why does he feel cheated? Especially since they were just close, really, really, close friends.
Since there was nobody that could answer those questions, Angel decided that it was for the best. Pandora's box was opened enough from both yesterday's and this night's activities. It was now time to close it and leave it behind permanently. The decision had everything within rebelling against it, but he knew that to sway would only bring unnecessary pain.
There was no romantic future between himself and Cordelia. Some of the same circumstances that ended his relationship with Buffy didn't change with his best friend. He was still a vampire, incapable of walking out in the daylight, giving her children that didn't involve miracles and prophecies, and the curse would prevent them from expressing love in one of its shapes and no less important forms. His shanshu was more than likely far beyond the limit of the human years of his friends, if he even survived long enough to earn it. Leaving him still a demon that wasn't completely that anymore, nor was he entirely a man.
In the end, it all boiled down to his shortcomings, and the doom of something before it could even begin. His soul and heart may be the remnants left of the selfish man who died all those years ago, but his limitations were too much to overcome.
Unable to sleep, Angel did what he only did when greatly disturbed or when inspiration strikes him, he began to sketch. In this case, it was both that brought the itch to create. Charcoal the medium of choice, his hand quickly began its journey. Soon, the shape of a woman lying down began to form. With great care and the perfectionism that is in most artists, he slowed down and took his time. At times, he had a firm touch for the small, seemingly insignificant details, using a harder charcoal pencil. When it came to the curves wispy lines of the woman's hair, a softer form of his pencils was used along with a gentle touch.
Soon, it was made clear that it was Cordelia who was the woman laying on the couch. Her gown pushed down to her hips enticingly, revealing her skimpy, strapless, bra clad chest. Though it was erotic and pleasing to the naked eye, her state of near undress was in no way perverted or the main focus of what the sketch was representing. It was the feelings that her facial expression and eyes revealed. Her doe eyes focused on her unseen lover, intense and filled with a vulnerability that strangely did not clash with the strength also found within. The detail he put in with every eyelash and shaping of her eyes wasn't just because of perfectionism. It was a necessity that drove him to give her portrait the concentration and care she deserved. The same could be said of her lips. Her pouty, full lips were slightly opened, bruised and slightly swollen from many passionate kisses. Everything about her naturally and exotically beautiful face told a story of excitement, femininity, physical arousal, innocence, and perhaps…. Love.
It was his memory of what happened in the prima ballerina's room. And despite of their possession from two secret lovers, it was still… them. He was kissing just as hard and passionately as Stephan was with his ballerina. Giving as good as he got. And since he was being truthful with himself, it was an excuse to finally touch and taste what would never be offered to him willingly. Was it so wrong for him to play out a small fraction of what he's wanted to do for some time now?
Silently, he continued to work on the portrait, allowing the memory to surface and replay over and over again. Since it refused to be repressed, then he might as well face it and be done with it. And so, he did. And with each passionate moment revisited of the night, so did the sketch become alive. Till finally, it became one of his finest pieces yet.
But when the ending came, so did the warmth that came with drawing. Like a picture snapped at a perfect moment, this was his only souvenir of a night that will never be repeated. God, he wished he could have the real thing.
His hands began to carefully turn the pages back to the rest of his works of art. And on each page of this current sketch book, Cordelia was the star. Moments snatched from time and placed in the simple leaflets of the pages for his viewing pleasure. Her expressions ranged from happy, sorrow, angry, pouty, sleepy, impassioned, lustful, sexy, and most endearing of all, the softness and pure love of a mother.
There were several pages of the moments exchanged between herself and Connor.
Angel couldn't fight it any more. Denial was not a healing balm to his soul, not anymore. Not when he realized on the car ride back to the hotel that Lorne and Fred were right about him. He didn't just see Cordelia as a best friend, seer, and a part of his family. He saw her as someone more. He…. Loves her. He's in love with Cordelia Chase.
How the hell did this happen?
The epiphany shocked him enough for him to drop the sketch pad and pencils, the items falling and scattering across the floor. Trembling hands came up to cover his face, as if to block out this epiphany. But nothing would or could ever do that. He now not only knows, he falls into it. Excepting the inevitable thing called love.
It's almost poetic. The warrior finding out that had indeed fallen in love with his seer, his confidant and so much more, only to find out too little too late. And this time, it's not the curse and the doom of falling for yet another strong, capable and in the end untouchable mortal that has put a stop to something beautiful and all so new… It's another champion who may not be normal, but he was equipped to give her everything she deserves and needs. With Buffy, it hurt like hell to find out that she found someone new, someone that she knew and could trust. But at least the tiny, unselfish part of the man within had found some peace in knowing that she was getting what she wanted and needed. Even though it didn't last, the relationship had its purpose.
But with Cordelia, there was no part of him that found peace. This was worse than Buffy moving on, even though rationally it shouldn't be so. Technically, Cordelia isn't moving on because there was nothing to move on from. No, it's losing what could have been. Never getting the chance to explore these feelings that are hand in hand with friendship.
Angel felt cheated. For it seemed that fate and its mirror image destiny had once again screwed him over.
The vampire paced the room, feeling the anger slowly boil over, making his muscled clench and twitch. In the battleground of his mind, thoughts and arguments kept bouncing back and forth. Caught between rebelling against this slice of crap pie, and then excepting the indisputable facts of how he could never truly have a relationship now was a horrible thing to experience. Before the soul, he was a true fighter. He fought for Darla when the Master was beating him to a bloody pulp, he fought for the fear pounded into the human and demon populace just by mentioning his name. He fought for the title bestowed upon him, and he fought with Spike over Dru's affections, knowing that it drove the love sick vampire batty when Dru would instantly come to his beck and call.
But after the curse, the fight had slowly left him. Sure, he would choose to do what's right and even fight for it, but even in that he would fail from time to time. He gave up Buffy when he realized that he could never give her a normal life, always on the very edge of her life in the shadows. Hell, he gave up on everything when Holland had threw in that curve ball towards the end of his beige period.
In the end, Angel knew when it came down to it, he fails. The fighting instince no longer a tempered steel, but instead a dead twig that can be easily snapped in two….
And yet….
He didn't always fail. Giving up Buffy had brought him to LA, where he found a purpose and a destiny. After his liaison with Darla, he had fought and won over the darkness within. The coldness had left as perfect clarity came with an epiphany long in the making. Different instances since he came back to this city of fallen angels have revealed that the fighting instinct wasn't all that fragile in the first place. In fact, it's grown sharper and more keener due to the friendships that has been forged, the trials he's faced, and the mission that he serves. No, to give up was no longer something that the soul can withstand. And that goes for love as well.
He deserves every ounce of misery that's served to him. Its part of the penance he must go through to reach the redemption and forgiveness he craves. But… he also needs a little happiness too. Having a son fulfilled some of that need. But to have Cordelia by his side, despite of the limitations he has and the obstacle both will have to face, that would complete him enough to get him through the hard times.
But most importantly, he could make her happy. Every second he felt the love grow deeper of each passing day. It was a love different than the one with Buffy, though it had its similarities. This was a love that you can grow old with. It didn't consume you, it became alive and fused in every cell of your body, becoming a part of your very being. As you grow, so does the love. And by God, he wants to show Cordelia for the rest of her days how much he truly did love her.
The battle within came to a standstill as he came to the final decision of the road left untraveled. Pros and Cons of exploring what could be something far more beautiful and fantastic then either of them could imagine. Or it could lead to ashes, like the last relationship he had. But the thing that would survive that would still be their friendship. Either way, he knew in his gut that the connection between himself and his dearest friend would never die. Just like this love that grew from it.
Some things in life you have to fight for, even if you will crash and burn eventually. The possibility of a life lived with love in the equation is worth it.
He will fight for her heart. Groo or no Groo, Cordelia Chase was going to be his.
The wrestle with himself has ended. He doesn't really believe in the soul mate thing, but he does lean toward the idea of different fates. The one that involved Cordelia as something more was one he was willing to risk his heart for. The moment he snatched Cordelia up from Russell Winters lair had sealed his fate on the mission in LA. At the time, he didn't know that it also placed him up for the fall he swore he would never do again.
Peace settled in his very bones. The pain and frustration of fighting a natural course of things was no longer a factor. It felt nice not to argue internally day in and day out with his heart. In fact, it gave him time and space to finally decide his next move. For wooing Cordy can't be done by flying by the seat of his pants. His take action and ask questions later never has worked in regards of his feisty seer. No, the way to her heart is careful planning, taking action, the plain taking her before she had time to realize what happened.
Picking up his scattered art supplies, he went and placed them back while humming a little tune to himself. An old song that he always liked. A wicked grin appeared as the song itself had filled him with inspiration. And from there, plans were being forged not only in waking moments, but within his dreams.
A/N: And there ya go. I hope the latter portion of the fic wasn't too rushed or anything. And most importantly, I hope the way I handled the characters wasn't too OC for you fans. I did struggle with this fic for awhile, rewriting parts and erasing others. But in the end, I'm pretty satisfied with the result. Now, go the the alternate version in the next chapter, read that, then leave a review of what you think of both. That way I can finish up the last of this series!