By Misty Flores – mistyjox@hotmail.com
Teaser: Lorne has his hands full when three men who love three brunettes reveal three stories that meld surprisingly – and the three brunettes go missing.
Genre: Angel: The Series, Comedy/Romance/Action
Pairing: Angel/Cordelia, Gunn/Fred, Wesley/Faith
Rating: R for sexual situations
Special Thanks to: Vanessa, and her beautiful beta reading abilities.
Additional Notes on Chapters
--
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thursday Evening: Cordelia Chase's Apartment
--
There were very few times when Faith felt any actual URGE to panic. Usually, when trapped in a dangerous situation, she felt elated. Her heart would begin to pump, a smile would grace her perfect lips, and with a glint in her eyes, she would confront the situation with sex appeal and violence.
Now, all she felt was fear. Never in her life, had she ever felt such an adverse reaction in her soul, as she did when she laid eyes on her tall Ex-Watcher, in an empty apartment, save for one ghost. Breathing became erratic, her chest became constricted, and everywhere Faith looked, there was no escaping him, no escaping the feelings.
THESE DAMN FEELINGS.
Guilt, nausea, memories of what she had done, of his lips on hers, of his hand striking her face, all flooded her now. A dark gaze studied her, eyes that were now unreadable but in the past she had seen them dark with fear, intense with desire, and fiery with anger.
Suddenly, she wanted to know him. Wanted to know every shade, every emotion that flickered through those eyes. Her fingers were suddenly itching to reach up, peel the glasses from his face and wonder if she would ever see some sign of affection glittering in those eyes. The inward admission almost made her gag, as her eyes closed against her betraying thoughts and then opened to find the door waiting invitingly.
FUCK. What the hell was wrong with her? A few years and Wesley had grown up. Big deal. He wasn't her 'lay and leave' type, and she knew there was NO way he would ever -
WHAT THE FUCK WAS SHE DOING?!
"Find your own ride home," she spat, whirling and striding as quickly as she could to her exit. "I'm leaving."
"Where Faith, to Holtz?"
The magic word. Faith froze, body wavering, momentum tried to pull her forward but instead her foot stepped back, her body turned, and she leveled a gaze on him that was startled with surprise.
In a gruff attempt to keep his voice level, Wesley pulled off his glasses, reducing her to a foggy blur as he continued while he had the advantage. "I told you I would find out, Faith."
She was silent at first. When the glasses came back on, and she back into focus, he found the surprised gaze now exchanged for one that was much more familiar. Hard, unyielding, full of defiance – a mask. FAITH'S mask.
Throwing him a careless glance, she shrugged, tossing her chin up in challenge. "So what Wesley? You know. What the fuck are you going to do? Tell Mommy and Daddy on me? If you haven't noticed, they're a little too obsessed to care."
He remained quiet. Wesley knew better to answer at this moment; indeed, he wasn't sure he could have answered if he wanted to. At the moment all concentration was on her reaction, on the moves and gestures that could have easily been mistaken for anger, hate, careless morality.
Until the faint tremble of her jaw gave her away; the moist fog over her brilliantly sparkling dark orbs revealing just how close she was to breaking down, just how scared. She was dangerous like this; out of her element, scared, and when it came down to this kind of raw emotion - feelings she, in particular, had never learned to check - who wasn't?
"What?" she demanded, coming forward. Her eyes locked on his own and standing tall she looked into his face, her warm breath falling on his skin in tufts. "Say something, you fuck. Or are you scared? Scared I'll jump you? Scared I'll fuck you? Scared I'll kill you? Or maybe a little of all three?"
The words, empty threats now, were fear-driven and he knew they were meant to drive him away, to put her in power, but all they did was make him smile grimly as he crossed his arms and shook his head. "I'm not telling anyone, Faith. I fully expect you to tell Angel yourself."
The remark threw her again, as she took a step back, a sneer frozen on her face. "What? I have you that scared, Wes?"
"No. I think we've established you can do nothing to me that you haven't done already." He pursed his lips. "This isn't about me at all, Faith. This is about you. I'm taking a lesson from our vampire, you see. Obsession, stalking... it does lend one to all sorts of pertinent information."
Her voice was broken, expression visibly fighting for controlled ambivalence. "Oh yeah? Like what?"
"Such as you've had no intention of following through with your mission since the moment you stepped into the Hyperion. Not once have you attempted to get close to the child. Not once have you attempted to seek Angel out for that purpose... and not once have you joined your little Justine on any raids."
She sucked in her breath, eyes narrowing, letting her gaze rove over him in an obvious appreciative glance of his body. "Maybe I got distracted, Wes."
He was quiet for a moment but his eyes softened and his tone, when he spoke again, was gentle. "Don't, Faith. I promise I won't hurt you. I just want to help."
Again she was taken out of her own game and forced to play one that she didn't know. The power in the conversation was suddenly shifted to her hands. Swallowing hard, her fists balled. Every impulse inside of her urged her to take the advantage, to tell Wesley to go screw himself and thereby squash every single little premonition he had about her to hell.
But his eyes were soft, even if his body was tense, and his arms were out, reaching out to HER. And there was no disgust or anger... only pure, simple understanding. The tears that stained her cheeks startled her and at first she wiped them away hastily, until more kept coming and her body began to shake.
"Oh, fuck," she whispered. Suddenly ashamed, she turned her back to him, unable to stop the trembling and angry as hell about it. He was quiet behind her and Faith was thankful for that, as she sucked in her breath and wrapped arms around her body.
"Faith."
It was quiet, but it went through her like liquid, searing over her soul. "Don't, Wes."
"Faith -"
"Just… don't." Her response was choked, frantic. Striding as far away from him as she could she sank onto the couch as her out-of-control body suddenly gave way. Her eyes closed, and she tried to close herself off to him - but she felt the sinking down of the couch next to her, the shift of weight, the permeable gaze of his eyes on her.
There was silence and in some desperate attempt to fill it, she whispered, "I didn't – I never would hurt Angel's kid. I just… I wanted to help. I didn't trust that Justine chick and I thought that if I played along…"
A hand was placed hesitantly on her back, burning warmth through her skimpy tank top and her first impulse was to throw it off. Her body betrayed her, leaning back against it, welcoming the touch. "Faith. I know."
"I never would hurt Angel. He was the only one who gave me a chance. He saw all the evil, all the hate, and then he saw past it."
"He's not the only one that does, Faith."
A small sentence, but it made the sobs come harder and blindly she turned, burying her face into a masculine shoulder. Warmth enveloped her as hands slid tighter around her and GOD it had been so long since she had been held this way. Eyes closed, she felt with her senses, tears streaking across his shoulder, bleeding into his shirt.
He held her, with a strong embrace that seemed so out of place - and yet so right - on Wesley. Faith, with her shattered heart and lonely soul, wondered if anyone else held this curious aura in their arms. A strong heartbeat pounded against her chest, resonating through her, once, twice, and as he held her, the tears subsided and her arms tightened, leaving him breathless.
Her strength, she had forgotten her strength... because when she had thrown herself in his arms she had also inadvertently pushed him back. Only now, her body feverish, did she realize her position; his position. Pulling back slightly, her eyes roved down, discovering their tangled legs and hips pressed against each other, warm heat moving between the two. A shuddering sigh came over her, as her cheek brushed against his rougher one, arms still thrown loosely around his neck.
Suddenly safe - overwhelmingly safe and no longer scared - for what seemed the first damned time in her life, Faith studied the face. Pulling an arm back slightly, her digits explored the softness of his features. His eyes were incredibly, beautifully blue, and this time she didn't fight the urge to pull off his glasses, unexpectedly gentle as she did so, careful not to poke him as she set them aside, finally able to view those blue pools closely.
She swallowed, their bodies drawn closer when he gave a soft sigh at the first finger on his lips, a gentle caress.
"Faith…" his voice was constricted, broken, and it made her smile. She was doing this to him. She was doing -
Her eyes widened as her body shifted up experimentally, feeling his reaction, the groan and the stiffening that came from his groin. It was exhilarating, coming from him. For some reason, from WESLEY, it made her burn. Her smile faltered, gaze suddenly riveted on his eyes, on his lips, on his face.
"Faith…" he tried again to get the words out, trying to say this wasn't right, that it was wrong for things to progress this quickly -
But Faith was never one for patience and when her lips pressed lightly against his, then firmly settled and buried into his parted sigh, tongue flicking through the wet depths to caress his own, his mind jolted. Thought processes were completely destroyed as a low, guttural moan ripped through his chest. Constraint gave way to instinct as one arm slid over one feminine shoulder, jerking her closer to him, and his lips slanted hotly over hers.
Faith groaned, returning every kiss as wildly as he gave it, fingers sliding down the strong column of his neck, sliding into the v-neck of his collar and pulling down. Buttons flew and he gasped, but her eyes glittered with tears as she paused.
"Faith, stop -"
She froze, reality flooding back when his arms curled around her forearms, hindering her movement. "Wes -" her voice was thick, apologetic, ashamed -
"Not fast." His tone was breathless but his hands were gentle as he cupped her face, thumbing along swollen lips, eyes now a beautiful blue as they darkened with desire. "Not fast," he whispered again, this time centimeters from her lips, hot breath sliding over the sensitized skin. Her eyes closed involuntarily when he suckled on her lower lip, drawing it into his mouth, teasing it slightly before reaching up and taking the top. He surrendered her lips for one ragged breath before slanting his head, using the better angle to thrust into her mouth slowly, languidly, with his tongue.
Her pant of startled surprise drew a smile from his mouth, still pressed against hers, and Faith gave no fight when he leaned forward. Arms slipped around a slim waist, her own legs tangling around his calves, rocking against him as she soon became trapped between the firmness of his flat chest and the yielding softness of the cushions beneath her.
The weight of him on top was gratifying. With every breath she felt his firm torso against her own chest. Amidst hard pants she gave herself completely to the feeling of his body sliding, shifting, moving against hers, as he gave her another tender kiss, followed by another, and another.
--
The Present – Kate Lockley's Apartment
"TELL me you didn't have SEX on my couch."
Cordelia's outburst made everyone jump, her glittering eyes giving even a flushing Faith a start of surprise. "What?"
"If you had sex on MY COUCH -"
"Cordelia, I don't know if that's really - SHUT UP." Fred looked almost proud for standing up to Cordelia, abruptly annoyed at being interrupted at the REALLY GOOD part.
"Hey!"
"Yeah, shut up, Cordelia."
"It's my COUCH -"
Faith pressed a warm hand to an even warmer forehead in a desperate attempt to cool her flushed body. "Right. Well. I'm not giving you perverts the details, okay?"
Kate looked mildly put out. "Fuck."
"Hey - no use of the 'F' word in front of Fred," Faith said, a mock grin on her face at her own hypocrisy.
Cordelia only closed her eyes, counted to ten, and bit her lip as she turned to Fred in a desperate attempt to get the image of Faith and Wesley on HER couch off her mind. "And where were YOU?"
"Doing Gunn." At the snorts, Fred suddenly realized her mistake and clapped her hand over her mouth. "I mean," she mumbled through fingers. "I wasn't… not with - I was doing a party WITH Gunn…"
--
Thursday Evening – A Little House in the Ghetto
"You really don't have to come with me."
Winnifred cast her friend a distracted smile as he parked the car, glancing over the small house that was loud with music. "It's okay, Charles."
He didn't look convinced as he jerked the gear into park and shifted his body, staring at her until he was completely sure he had her attention. "It's not your kind of people."
She gave him a patronizing grin. "I think I know that. But I think I managed to win a few of them over."
That earned a smile and she had to grin back, reaching over to squeeze his fingers before turning toward the door and opening it before he had a chance to argue further. When he came around, he was watching her with open appreciation, nodding to her as they walked in the direction of the house.
"You are my savior, Fred," he began, a slow smile starting on his lips. Fred glanced at his face, her features softening. He really looked good when he smiled. With the dimple on the side and the way his eyes shone, she suddenly found herself wishing for more, thinking it had all been worth it when his palm drifted over her own, squeezing hesitantly. "A bonafide hero."
"Ohh…" She offered a nervous grin, shrugging her shoulders, but thankful when he kept his hand next to hers. It was a warm hand and body heat was important. "I'm no hero."
"You're my hero, Fred." he repeated firmly.
Her face was warm - she was sure it was red as a cherry - but the silly grin that had floated to her lips seemed impossible to squelch and so she gave up, instead giving him her own brilliant smile.
"How about," he began slowly, fingers tangling over hers as he offered her a hesitant smile. "I help you paint those walls tonight. You know. After this."
The Pylean refugee stiffened, startled as she cocked her head, her face expressionless. Studying him, she finally blew out her breath, and firmly shook her head. "Not yet, Gunn."
The smile faltered. "Fred?"
"I'm still waiting," she remarked. Her eyes locked on his as she spoke. "I want to see how this story ends."
"Oh." He was quiet, walking up the cement blocks leading to the house. "You don't mind?" he asked suddenly.
"Don't mind what?" she asked, distraction in her tone as she viewed the crowded house with just a little bit of fear.
"This." He lifted their attached hands, tightening his grip as they stopped just before the stairs, facing each other. "Pretending we're together. I know I jumped it on you, but -"
"No, I - it's okay. I know why ya did, and…" she gave a small shrug, a shy smile floating onto her lips. "It's kinda fun to pretend."
His eyes locked onto hers, smile frozen on his face.
"All right, Freddie's here!"
Fred hadn't been aware she was leaning in until she leaned back, startled when she saw Rondell beaming from the top of the porch, his arms outstretched in welcome. A warm blush settled over her cheeks, tingles climbing up her spine when Gunn's warm fingers slid along the back of her shirt, brushing the hint of skin exposed there. Pretending to ignore it, she gave Rondell a nod, clasping his hand as he came forward.
"Yo man, you don't mind if I take your girl, do you? Some of the boys in there want to meet the chick with the mean ass shovel."
Fred gave Gunn a look, but he only smiled. "Just make sure you bring her back, all right?"
"It's cool, I'll take care of her."
Pulling her up the stairs, Rondell gave the redhead standing against a pillar a distracted smile, moving around her. "Get inside Justine, that's where the real party is."
Fred's own semi jubilant mood was dampened when she realized the intensity of the gaze in Justine's eyes was completely directed at Gunn. Craning her neck, her suspicions mounted when Justine stepped slowly off the porch, swinging leather clad hips down with her. Before she could view Gunn's reaction, Rondell had pulled her into the house.
Charles didn't move, hands pressed into his pockets, as Justine made her way over to him, eyes connecting with his. She was quiet for a minute before lifting up a bottle and motioning to him. "Have one."
Charles, body tight with mistrust, just glanced at it. "I'm not in the mood for a drink."
"You want us to be friends? Well, friends drink together, don't they?"
"I never said I wanted us to be friends."
She grinned at that, emerald eyes shining in the moonlight. His eyes roved to the beer, tempting in its glory. It was going to be a long night, liquor would help. Taking it from her hands, he ignored the way their fingers deliberately brushed and took a long gulp, grimacing at the bitter taste and then making a point of looking around her, trying to find Fred.
"What? Can't trust your little girlfriend?"
He narrowed his eyes, turning again to meet Justine's gaze. "I trust her. I don't trust you."
She grinned. "So we have something in common." At his answering glower, she chuckled, taking him by the forearm and pulling him up the stairs. "Let's party, Charles."
Three beers later, Charles was slightly light-headed as he pushed through the crowded house in an attempt to find Fred. The young physicist was LAST seen taking a shot of whiskey, in the midst of his hooting compatriots, and not exactly comfortable with that, Charles had tried to get to her only to be taken over by the completely irresistible urge to visit the toilet.
Another beer was shoved in his hand and Charles narrowed his eyes when he found himself face to face with that damned redhead. "Justine."
"Gunn."
"Haven't seen my little girlfriend, have you?" he asked, leaning against the wall to view the crowd.
"Not for a few minutes," she said, leaning with him. "Gotten a little chummy with Rondell, hasn't she?"
Charles shot her a glare. Ignoring the inference, he instead tried to pull his slightly drunk mind back in order, taking in a deep breath. "I'm gonna go find her -"
Her hand on his shoulder pushed him back to his previous place. "What's the rush? You're going home with her."
"I gotta take CARE of her."
"Seems like she can more than hold her own."
"Fred's FRAGILE," he declared resolutely, plonking down the beer to stare at the redhead. "She don't belong with people like us."
Justine's lip quirked. "People like us?"
Charles was quiet, eyes boring into hers as she leaned in closer, seriously invading his personal space.
"Gunn." A smaller body suddenly pressed against him, warm and familiar. Justine turned to find Winnifred Burkle - flushed and having a little trouble with her balance - glaring at her. "There you are."
Charles gave her a genuine smile, sliding a hand around her waist. "Freddie!"
"Come on…" Tugging at his hand, she pulled firmly, moving him away from Justine and sticking her tongue out at the - dammit she could say it - the BITCH, before pushing Charles into a more secluded corner of the room.
She had been furious with Charles up until about five seconds ago. Every time she had turned around there was Justine, with her red hair and stupid leather jacket, and she was hanging all over GUNN, and wasn't Charles supposed to be pretending to be HER boyfriend? It had inspired another shot and that had given Fred the courage to let Gunn have it, until she heard his little 'fragile' comment.
She was NOT fragile but, then again, the concern in his voice had melted her insides. Torn between being angry and turning into a puddle of goo, Fred found herself keeping her mouth shut, not sure if she wanted to yell at him or hug him.
"Where were you?" Charles asked, his breath smelling of alcohol as he leaned forward, lips brushing her ear in an effort to be heard above the noise.
She processed the words and then leaned up, feeling his hand pressing against the small of her back to bring her even closer as she yelled in his ear. "Rondell. He kept tryin' to introduce me to people, but I kept gettin' Flintstones comments so I came to find you. What are you doin' with Justine?"
"I wasn't WITH her, she won't leave me alone!"
She blinked, tried to process the words, but for some reason her mind wasn't that quick now. "But - do you think she's prettier than me?"
"What?"
She leaned up, making sure her lips brushed the outer edge of his ear, in an effort to be heard. "Do you think she's prettier than me?"
"Pshawww… Naww!" Charles gave her a wide grin, one she couldn't help but smile back at, suddenly giddy. "She's a dog, compared to you!"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
She blushed, leaning still closer to him, resting her cheek on his shoulder as she looked at the room, cuddled in Gunn's embrace. The people around her were laughing, smiling and drinking and having a good time, and they didn't SEEM evil. She wanted to go home now. She hated Justine, hated Charles for making her see all these stupid shades of gray and she was pretty sure she just might have be willing to puke in the morning.
Three shots were a lot for someone who wasn't used to the drinking… and the beer didn't help.
Stupid Gunn, with his stubborn loyalty, and beautiful eyes, and beautiful smile and big hands, and funny way of talking. If the - if Cordy could say it, she could too - BITCH kept her hands off of HER man, then Fred would be just fine. The hot gaze of Justine's eyes on Charles' broad back, coupled with her muddled senses, prompted her into action.
"Fred, I think maybe we should think about heading -"
Charles was interrupted when Fred's lips pressed deliberately against his, shutting him up. Startled, he leaned back, eyes widening as he backed up a step, and Fred, undeterred, took the step with him, keeping her body brushing against his.
"Fred… Umm… I think you missed my cheek there."
"I don't miss, Charles." Slightly tipsy, she gave him a crooked smile, cocking her head as her eyes drifted toward Justine again. She saw the red-head's glower and gave her a wide grin back. Without another word, she was on her tiptoes, pressing another chaste kiss to Gunn's lips, one that quickly melted into a lazy caress as her slightly inebriated friend got over his shock and slid large hands over her tiny waist, pulling her closer into his firm, strong body.
Her moan was real as Charles' kiss became hotter, firmer, more experienced, and the ravenous little physicist was suddenly consumed with need for more. There was a thought firmly lodged into her brain at one point, wondering about the merits of alcohol and if indeed this whole relaxation of inhibitions was what was causing her tongue to do the things it was doing against Gunn's, but she pushed it away, breaking off the kiss with a gasp when his hand slid under her shirt, teasing the edge of her bra.
"Charles -" she gasped.
He blinked, eyes blurry and slightly groggy, and he shook himself. "Oh, God, Fred, I'm sorry. It's just… I've had a few beers - I don't know if I can drive -"
She considered their options and suddenly the most far fetched option seemed the only one available and… it seemed like a very nice way for two friends to pass the time …
"Come on," her hand tangled in his, palm pressing as she moved, weaving through the crowd. She lost her footing only slightly but was still able to move, away from Justine and to a place where Gunn was just hers.
In a hallway, she pulled him to her again, lips melting against his in a hot kiss, moaning into it, body trembling against his, a delicious tingle starting up in her abdomen, a delicate fire that seemed impossible to tame. He still had his reservations, but she was past making time for that and when he broke away, she shook her head fiercely, grabbing his head with both hands and forcing it back down, keeping his lips on hers. He took the hint, pushing her back until she was pressed against the wall, body flush against his, dipping his head for another taste of her, lips moving against each other hungrily.
"Fred, what are we doin'?"
"Bein' friendly," she responded huskily, eyes locked on his beautifully dark orbs, chest heaving in long, lust-filled pants.
"Oh… 'cause it sounds and feels like we're making out in a hallway at a party like two drunk teenagers."
She blinked, looking at their surroundings. Was that was they were doing? His hands burned into her hips. Her own fingers were distracting her as they moved over broad shoulders. She had never felt so free than at this moment. Charles had a glorious body, and a beautiful mind, and beautiful lips, and they were friends and suddenly this wasn't a bad idea at all…
In fact, she wondered why on earth she had never considered it before.
"Come on." She grabbed his hand again, leading him up the stairs, past a pair that was necking in much the same way and found a door, turning the knob to reveal a modest bedroom.
"Fred -"
She pulled him in, closed the door, flipped the lock, and suddenly, his lips were on hers again, hot and wet and deep and firm -
It made her shudder as his lips left hers in favor of pressing hot kisses against her jaw, her cheek, her neck. Arching against him proudly, she held on tight, a sigh sliding over her as his grip tightened, moist lips sliding gently over the column of her throat.
"God, Fred, you're so beautiful. You're so damn beautiful -" His voice was husky, deep, and it undid her. Fingers suddenly frantic, she pulled his jacket off his shoulders, reaching for the buttons of his shirt.
"So're you, Charles," she whispered breathlessly, pulling him back until her calves were pressed against the back of the bed. His weight continued her descent and his eyes were dark with desire as her hands spread over his now open shirt, revealing a beautiful chest on a beautiful man.
"God…"
His lips were moving against hers and Fred lost all coherent thought.
--
Thursday Evening – The Hyperion Lobby
Cordelia's heels clicking on the marble surface signified her arrival long before her scent hit him. Watching from the staircase, Angel was quiet, never making a sound, and he considered moving into the shadows so as to avoid her detection completely. But his feet refused to obey his common sense and, instead, he stood completely still, eyes on her form.
"Angel?" She turned on one slim heel, moving to the office as she shrugged off the woven shawl and dropped it carelessly on the couch.
Her hands were adorned with only one ring, on her left hand, third finger. He swallowed down the emotion that came with the signifying clasp, hands digging in his pockets, into fists, trying to force himself not to react to the simple sight of her.
'We'll laugh', he had told her. Every night since then had been spent in contemplation; a silent vigilante guard over her tired soul and he knew now what he was doing, that he was attempting something so drastic that his heart wouldn't even allow him to speak it out loud.
He was allowing her to have her normal life.
This was her, in her normal glory. Swept up hair, small bangs shifted to the side, her make up subtle and enhancing. Perfume in every curve.
She was beautiful without him.
"Angel!"
Hazel eyes caught his and finally she saw him, hands on her hips as she shook her head slowly, crossing to the steps. With a stonewall expression, Angel backed away, pausing when she reached the top of the stairs.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone low, passive.
Her steps faltered, eyes widening slightly at the impersonal tone. "Yeah, nice to see you too," she answered dryly, shaking her head. "I'm here to ask you to cut the bullshit."
"Bullshit."
"Yeah, you know? The cutting off of phone calls, my so-called 'vacation'? Little broody angstfests that everyone knows about but me?" She paused, crossing her arms, the hazel in her eyes glinting, showing her anger. "What the hell is going on?"
Her tone was no nonsense. It made Angel gulp, knowing that that tone stood for one of her talks. She had resolve during these talks, never leaving until she got an answer.
"Angst fests."
"Okay, Angel." She looked near to losing her temper as her eyes closed, a finger rubbing at a temple slowly. "Can you STOP repeating everything I say and say something original? FOR ONCE? JUST ONCE?"
Her little stamp at the edge of the sentence punctuated her aggravation. He found his eyes drawn to it. He could smell her perspiration, her tell-tale scent that told him she was young, beautiful, full of life - and that was how she should always be.
In here it was dark and humid, suffocating. In here, she cried. And she wanted to laugh.
"Angel." She was closer now, one finger sliding over his palm, hooking his thumb. The contact left him breathless, a shiver running through his body that made him shut his eyes against her image. But his imagination took over and he could still see her face in his mind, looking up at him with that pleading, willful expression she used when she was really, truly worried.
"I'm fine, Cordelia. There's nothing wrong with me. Just… go to your party." Pushing her away, shrugging her off, he stumbled around her as he moved to his room, praying that it would be enough to send her off before his resolve broke. But he knew it wasn't - it never was - she always broke through.
"Angel! Dammit -" Steps continued to follow him into his room, shutting the door behind her.
"Cordelia, just go!" he finally growled, beyond patience, beyond longing, tone near panic now as she stepped further into his room. HIS room and in HIS room was HIS BED and in HIS BED she had once lain, HIS property. HIS girl.
"WHY?!"
"Don't make me move you. I want to be alone. Why the hell can you never leave me alone?!"
The sharp tone made her flinch just a second before the hurt expression wounded her eyes, moistness pervading them. He sucked in his breath, growling softly as he turned his back to her, fingers clenching on his dresser and body jolted into his unconscious act of breathing when he forgot he didn't need to. After two hundred damn years, you'd think he'd stop forgetting.
But she made him forget so many things.
"You're shutting me out. You haven't shut me out for AGES and you expect me to just... walk away? Just like that? I'm not LIKE YOU, Angel. I don't leave."
"Then just ONCE do what I tell you. For your OWN DAMN GOOD, Cordelia. You're NOT me." His face jerked back to hers and the demon visage, fangs glistening and eyes glowing a golden yellow, peered eerily in the dark before it faded into his human visage.
Fine, he had made his point. Not human. Never human. Never normal.
"Angel -"
"Have you had the visions recently, Cordelia?"
"What?"
"The visons? Have you had them?"
"Not since the last one -"
"Why? Because you're not WITH me. Being with me causes the damn things and I'm not killing you because of them. I'm NOT. This is how we fix it."
"Fix it? You sending me away is FIXING it?"
Cordelia stood there, features frozen as the reality of the situation came flooding into her, clarity suddenly vivid as she took in Angel's obviously defensive stance. Studying the way he avoided her eyes, it all became so clear - she KNEW - he was already going forward with it.
"Oh, God," she breathed, voice suddenly small and low with disbelief. "This isn't about the visions at all, is it? You're doing it again. What you did to her. You're doing it to me."
The statements came tumbling out of her mouth and he seemed to deflate, shrink, draw into himself with every word. "Cordelia…"
"No… I can't believe you're doing this. I can't believe that this is your way of 'fixing' things. You're going to push me away until you think I'm safe enough, until I can't touch you anymore."
He never denied it, instead turning his broad back on her, not allowing her to see his eyes.
"NO, ANGEL- DON'T YOU DARE. Don't you DARE!" Moving forward, she grabbed him with what little strength she had managed to keep, pulling him back and grabbing his chin, pulled it down firmly until his eyes were once again on hers. "You look at me. You look at me and you TELL me that that's what you're doing."
He swallowed and, again, he said nothing.
"You're already psyching yourself, aren't you? And no matter what I say, it's not going to change things. Because you already decided this is how it's going to be. Dammit, ANGEL -" Her fists pounded at his chest briefly, the violent act a testament to the tears that were now sparkling in her eyes, before pushing away from him to wipe at them furiously.
He could stand to be silent no longer. "Cordelia -"
"No. No. You can't say anything now. I'm too furious, too – Angel, you know nothing about me. I mean, I thought you understood that this was different. That this wasn't the same." She sucked in her breath, trying to control her erratic pants. "I'm not seventeen and I'm not blind to you, Angel. I know every one of your faults, I know everything about you. I never wanted normal, ok? I knew what it was and I gave it up. Not just for you, but for me." Her eyes were sad, suddenly heartbroken as she turned back to him, body trembling with emotion as she began to step back towards the door. "I'm not HER, Angel. I never - you know what? It doesn't matter. If you don't know me, after the last three and a half years, then it doesn't matter."
"Cordy -" The word was ripped from his throat as the desperation and turmoil that Angel had bottled up so well suddenly began to bubble, began to burst up inside of him. Demon and soul both raged in conflict and he could keep silent no longer. He wanted so badly to refute her claims, to say that he DID know her, that he knew everything about her and LOVED everything but the words wouldn't move past the lump in his throat and his feet were frozen in place. When she reached the door, however, suddenly he was able to move and with that vampiric blast of speed he threw resolve to the heavens as only one thought resonated through his entire being.
He couldn't let her go. There was absolutely no way he could watch her walk out that door. If she walked out, he died.
Fingers wrapped around one small, slim wrist and whirling her figure around, he pulled Cordelia's warm body back until she fell against his cold chest. Her eyes flashed and her mouth parted to spill her words of anger but Angel, completely past reason or the capacity to listen, stopped those words from spilling forth by placing his lips on hers, moving urgently as he drowned out any capacity for reason in his kiss.
--
The Present – The Hyperion Hotel
"Wow." Lorne gave a sigh, leaning back against the stool and very nearly falling off of it before he remembered there was no back. "Every one was having sex at the same time?"
"We weren't having sex," Angel said tersely, shifting and scratching at the white polo shirt, his tone dark. He turned back to Wesley. "Sex on Cordelia's couch?"
"Bloody hell that's not the point!" And in an effort to get away from Angel's glowering stare, he in turn turned to Gunn. "You took advantage of a drunk Fred?"
Gunn's eyes widened and he stumbled off the chair, retreating a couple steps as they both glared at him. "I KNEW you would act like this. I wasn't thinkin'! I was drunk!"
"You took Fred to a party where there was alcohol and took her into a bedroom -"
"Look, she's twenty-three okay, dog? She's not a kid and she pulled ME up into - and that's not the point! The point is that Angel was a moron!" He pointed a shaky finger at the vampire.
Angel was rubbing at his temples with two very pointed fingers, eyes closed. "Gunn. Wesley." His voice was terse, without room for argument. "When this is over I'm taking you both outside and beating the crap out of you. You do NOT mess with Fred or Faith -"
"Right - 'cause messin' with Cordy's head is SO much simpler -"
"HEY!" Lorne waved his arms emphatically, accidentally clipping Wesley in the nose, causing the British man to whimper as he covered it to block further damage. "Oh. Sorry." Lorne gave him an apologetic grin. "Anyway – can we get back to what happens? It's not like we need a commercial break." He leaned forward. "Angel?"
--
end chapter