Title: Some Assembly Required
Disclaimer: Not mine, they belong to Joss and many other people who are not me. P.S. Wal-mart is not mine either.
Summary: Some Assembly Required
A/N: It turns out I may yet write the story I intended to write, it's just coming out in installments. Hey, if that's the way my brain wants (this) to work, who am I to argue. This story follows Sympathy, and if there's an order that would be it.
"Cleanup, aisle five. Cleanup, aisle five." The announcement was set too loud, a mother could be heard in the background admonishing her child, "-avey, don't pick at it like that! It'll never heal if you keep at it lik-...." A man with a wide flat box across his cart passed too close. The box was heavy, probably holding a compact dining room table - assembly required; the cart listed to the side and jabbed Angel in the small of his back. Angel turned and gazed blankly while the man caught his cart as it headed for the floor, extending both his arms over the top of the box to hold it steady. The cart wobbled briefly, but remained upright.
"Oh jeez, are you all right? I'm so sorry!" At the man's breathless and hurried apology Angel blinked and focused on the man for the first time. The man was short, the top of his head was bald and shiny with sweat except for two shocks of frizzy, bright red hair sticking straight up behind his ears. Angel found his eyes drawn to the man's plaid shirt; so many stripes of color melded and overlapped in it's pattern that Angel felt as though he was falling into it trying to follow the descending lines. Eyes crossing, Angel shook his head to clear it and looked back into the man's slightly nervous blue eyes. When Angel remained silent the man spoke again, slightly calmer but now a bit wary. "Is it okay?" Still preoccupied and not exactly sure why the man was asking, Angel simply mumbled, "uh, sure - whatever." Appearing greatly relieved, the man smiled shakily and moved on down the aisle.
Angel turned back to the display he'd been contemplating before plaid guy's interruption. WOODEN CRIBS FOR BABY! HALF OFF! The sign was bright yellow; the crib it advertised in a box similar to plaid guy's dining table. /This one has a side that lowers, just like Conner's/ The thought made Angel's eyes squint briefly and his lips tighten, but he continued his perusal of the crib's description. The box touted its easy-to-read instructions and simple assembly. Angel thought back and remembered sitting amongst jumbled piles of screws and wooden parts, reading the instructions in French, then Japanese, German, Italian, Spanish and was it?... yeah, Greek - in the hopes that any of them would make more sense than the English did.
Cordelia had finally taken over setting up the thing, stating that "the instructions are only there to confuse you, just put the pieces where they fit." Off Angel's skeptical look, Cordy grinned and explained. "I used to visit my Grandma Rose at the nursing home. I complained almost the whole time. It was smelly, the old people were too old to be any fun - and those orderlies! They're these greasy, creepy guys in white who follow you around with this totally uck look on their faces." At this Cordy demonstrated by rolling her eyes slightly upwards, opening her mouth and letting her jaw hang, and jutting out her lower lip. To further illustrate her point she pantomimed picking her nose. Angel raised his eyebrows and waved his hand, palm up - silently asking for her point. "Anyway," she continued, "Grandma got tired of my whining and took out this 500 piece picture puzzle of a mountain lion. I pouted and sulked for a few minutes but eventually I really got into it. When my Dad came to pick me up, I made him stay until we finished the puzzle. After that, Grandma bought a whole bunch of different ones and we'd spend the day putting them together every time I visited." Angel had smiled at the story and shaken his head saying, "next 'assembly required' puzzle-furniture I buy is all yours." At that he'd left her to it.
Thinking of Cordelia reminded Angel why he'd come here. Wal-mart - land of cheap prices, smiley face sticker-wielding veterans, people from all walks of life (those not willing to admit to shopping here notwithstanding), jostling and noise, and too bright lights. Any one of these aspects of Wal-mart shopping would have been enough to keep Angel well away, but the last one was the most irksome. The bright lights left Angel feeling too exposed. They left no shadows and brought everything into harsh perspective. He didn't feel real here; as if he was the monster lurking in the corner of the room, that turned out to be imagination and the dark transforming a coat rack or a chair once someone flicked on the light switch. The only reason Angel was braving the store at all was that Cordelia had gotten it into her head that completely redecorating his rooms, instead of just restoring them to their pre-fire state, would be sort of like leaving the past behind. Letting go like Angel had supposedly done when he'd taken down Conner's crib. Which brought Angel back to his current position.
This was not the paint aisle. The paint aisle was five aisles over and three aisles up, Angel knew this - so there was no way for him to mistake this aisle for that one. When Angel had entered the store (deftly avoiding being pinned with a yellow smiley face by a plump, kind-faced elderly lady who thought he needed some cheering up by means of grinning sticker), he fully intended to head right over to the paints, drop cloths and paintbrushes, get them and get out. Nevertheless, Angel's feet had carried him here to this aisle full of baby necessities to stand in front of this crib, and now they wouldn't move.
Angel reached out and gripped the side of the box. His thumb started rubbing up and down over the corner of the box, directly over the small, black lettered SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED sign. After a few minutes, Angel made up his mind. He picked up the crib and headed for the checkout. /More reading "insert crib support A into crib base B" in Greek... but I took it apart, I can put it back together again./
