Disclaimer: None of them are mine.

Cordelia Chase landed on her ass.

For the twenty-third time.

Angel sighed and shook his head. "You're making me look bad, Cordy. It's only been a few weeks; have you seriously forgotten everything?"

Cordy, on her ass and covered in sweat, frowned. "Well, we never really covered the whole karate thing. Not my fault you like swordplay and evasions."

He arched an eyebrow and offered her a hand.

"Don't start," she warned, letting him pull her to her feet.

"Well, you need to pay more attention to your opponent." Still holding onto her hand, he twisted her around and over, driving her to her knees with his mouth at her neck. "Stay alert."

"You suck," she pouted, wrenching herself away.

He gave her a small smile and patted her on the shoulder. "Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it."

Seizing the moment, Cordelia grabbed the hand on her shoulder and yanked as hard as she could, flipping him over.

Angel, of course, landed on his feet.

"Ow!" she cried, in pain but pleased. "I mean, HA. Ow, but ha. I did it! I flipped you!"

"Not bad," he acknowledged, sounding proud. Then he dropped to the mat, swiped the floor with his leg and kicked her feet out from under her.

Cordy landed on her ass. Again. "Damn it."

Angel stood up and shook his head. "We're gonna have to train more often. This is just sad."

Cordelia stood up, glowering. "Y'know, you could have died yesterday. You had massive gaping wounds, which I had to bandage. Has it occurred to you that maybe I'm just going easy on you?"

He actually laughed. "I have an advanced healing rate; you're just full of it."

She eyed him warily. "I know I make a big deal out of getting you to laugh and smile and act like a real boy, but you know what? It doesn't suit you." She paused, taking a long drink from her water bottle. "Could you please go back to being unbearably grim? Brooding, obsessive creature-of-the-night you was so much more tolerable."

He ignored her. "At the very least, I'd have thought you'd have learned to land on your feet and not your ass by now. You grew up in Sunnydale; aren't you supposed to develop instincts for this kind of thing? I mean, you didn't see Willow falling on her butt all the time. Can't really say the same for Xander, but he's… Xander."

She gaped. "You did NOT just say I'm no better in a fight than Xander Harris."

He shrugged.

Unable to contain her fury, Cordelia tackled him. They wrestled, a mess of legs and fists. Cordy clawed at Angel, trying to get a good grip on… well, anything. But the vampire had two centuries of experience and eighty pounds on her. He was too strong, and too skilled.

And Cordy was thrown, once again, on her ass—Angel's mouth, once again, against her carotid.

Angel frowned against her neck and climbed off of her. "You make it too easy."

Cordy just sat there on the ground and gasped for air, apparently too winded even to retort. He tossed her a towel. "Going off half-cocked because you're upset, I mean. You need to calm down. Be more like Buffy."

She stared at him. "Tell me that was a joke."

"From a brooding, obsessive creature of the night? Don't be ridiculous."

"Okay; I officially declare this sudden emergence of a sense of humor deeply disturbing."

"That's just my point," he said simply. "All that quipping Buffy does? It's just another tool. Stops her opponents from getting in her head, gives her time to think. Because, getting thrown on your ass? Not a big deal. You still have options then. Getting pinned to the ground by a vampire leaves you with a lot fewer options."

She glared.

"Why don't we stop here for the day?" he offered, off her look. "Before you get any more bruises."

She picked herself—gingerly—up off the ground. "You dispense random wisdom, kick my ass, then call it a day. Sure know how to treat a girl right, Angel."

"…you sound mad."

"I'm not mad."

"But—"

"Angel, I asked you to train me. You think I'm so petty that I'd get mad at you for being better at it than I am?"

"Okay, now you sound mad."

"I'm not mad, I'm annoyed."

He studied her a moment. "I… want me to make you lunch?"

"Shower, then lunch," she decided, trudging up the stairs.

"Alright. Will I need to dig out that special cushion for you?"

Cordelia came to a dead halt in the doorway. "I do NOT need the hiney-donut."

He smirked.

A/N This wasn't INTENDED to be such an Angel/Cordy-centric story, but it just kind of... happened. But their little training sessions were my favorite parts of early season 3.

Tomorrow: Fred, Lorne, Gunn and Wesley do... SOMETHING. Because I've been neglecting them.