Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own any of these characters. Joss Whedon does. (drat him)
Author's note: Sorry it took forever for me to update. Problems with my computer. Anyways, make sure you've watched the third season of Buffy or else you'll be completely confused. Review! I mean it!
Angel jumped and swung around when the a slim figure burst into the room, sunlight flooding a small patch of the room.
Cordelia walked towards him, looking furious. "This is all your fault!" She poked him in the chest and glared up at his face.
It amused him somewhat, to see her frail frame and slight build, glaring at him with such a ferocious expression. She didn't seem to comprehend he could snap her like a twig with one hand.
"Uh? What is?" Angel asked. The words felt slippery in his mouth. He still wasn't accustomed to speaking.
"Your girlfriend is running for Homecoming queen!"She half-screamed.
"Buffy isn't my girl-"
Cordelia held up a hand imperiously. "Shut up. If you'd been a normal guy, she'd have her head up in the clouds, daydreaming about you. But no, her life is so miserable, she's running for something she could never win; to fill up the empty void of her life."
Angel gave her a puzzled look. "If she won't win, then why are you so upset?"
Cordelia sighed, and shot him an exasperated look. "Because, there are a few people who like Buffy. Willow's bound to vote for her, and maybe a couple of others who I might have been a bit . . . harsh on. Anyways, I'll lose votes!" She pressed a finger to her temple, a gesture she made often.
Angel hid a smile at her obvious distress. Cordelia had always been a drama queen. He waited for a moment and then glanced at the fire awkwardly.
Cordelia gave another loud sigh, and wrenched herself from her problems.
"Are you feeling better? You look terrible."
"Thanks . . . I think. I am." Angel replied, somewhat confusedly.
Cordelia shrugged and pulled out a container. "I wasn't sure if Buffy had brought you dinner." She handed it to him, and then added as a gloomy afterthought, "She's probably busy, thinking up ways to sabotage me."
She pulled her coat off, revealing a low-cut blouse and jeans. She then threw her coat on a chair and made her way over to the couch.
Cordelia glanced around the room disdainfully. "Ugh. It's so dark in here. Geez, it must be awfully boring in here. Nothing to do but stare at walls. No wonder you're not all there."
Angel looked at her quickly.
She gave a sheepish smile. "I uh, meant that in a good way."
He turned away and glanced around the room, unsure of what to do.
"So how are you and Buffy doing? It must be pretty weird." Cordelia asked breezily.
Angel faced her again. "We . . .she . . .we're . . .okay."
Cordelia snorted. "Yeah right." Angel fidgeted with his hands. "It's probably really awkward. With you turning evil and trying to kill her; and then her running you through with a sword, just as you regain your soul, sending you to hell for all eternity." She gave a firm nod. "You two probably just stand around and stare, asking pointless questions, and pretending nothings wrong."
Her head shot up and her fierce expression returned. "And you two better keep it that way. Cause knowing you two, you'll probably fall in love all over again, and then you guys won't be able to hold in all of that 'forever love' and end up jumping each others bones." She rolled her eyes. "We already have enough psycho monsters on the loose. So do not need another one."
Angel said nothing during her speech. Cordelia glanced over at him. "Someone's not in the mood to talk." She said. "Whatever. I'll come back when you're in a less mono-syllabic mood. Adios!" She scooped up her jacket and departed.
Angel uncorked his blood and sat on the couch, trying to drown out the ornery girl's words, that rang so true.
