Author: Misty Flores
With special contribution by Ness
Email: mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
Teaser: So 'Happily Ever After' didn't last forever, and now Cordelia's ready to move past the mission, and on with her life, without Angel Investigations. Course, intent is always easier than execution, especially when Angel and company, aren't ready to let her go.
Genre: Angel/Cordelia, Cordelia/Other - Comedy
Rating: R for language, some sexual situations.
Spoilers: Tomorrow. Speculation for Season Four.
Notes: Remake based on the forties screwball classic 'His Girl Friday'. AU, Futuristic - and damned wacky.
More notes- The majority of Chapter Three was written by Ness (www.stoic-simplicity.net/anr). 'Cause she rocks.
As always- three chapters a day, so as not to overwhelm.
--
CHAPTER THREE
"What am I going to do? I'm good for exactly two things-international super-stardom, or helping a vampire with a soul to rid the world of evil. That makes for a short, but colorful, resume." Cordelia, I Will Remember You
--
Caritas was exactly like she remembered it... which meant it was NOTHING like she remembered it. Stepping through the metal detector she paused just inside the entrance and surveyed the decidedly eighties decor critically.
"This version thirteen or fourteen?" she asked curiously.
Angel pushed her further into the club, handing over a trio of small daggers to the door guard, and then looked up as he pocketed his weapon's slip. "Nineteen--Lorne had a run of popstar-related riots last month."
An eyebrow quirked delicately. "Britney Spears?"
"Versus Mandy Moore--it wasn't pretty."
"So this whole electric blue and silver theme...?"
Angel shrugged. "Something about flashbacking to when ALL music was bad."
She snorted briefly and then, realizing that Douglas was still at the metal detector, hurried to his side. "It's ok, Sweetie," she assured him, taking in the bug-eyed look on his face as the man stared at the menagerie of demons milling around, "everyone's harmless here. Caritas is a sanctuary-a fighting, killing and dismemberment free zone."
Wide eyes got impossibly larger. "DISMEMBERBENT?!"
She swallowed back an 'oops', and smiled reassuringly. "That only happened once and it wasn't anyone we knew anyway," she squeezed his hand gently, "you'll be fine here--trust me."
Nodding a little blankly, Douglas watched as a group of Chaos demons started on--what appeared to be--their fifth round of shots and managed a weak smile. "Uh huh."
Still smiling she tugged on his hand, pulling him further into the club as she followed Angel towards a free table. As she side-stepped a Fyarl demon, however, she let go of Doug's hand to tap on a very familiar vermilion-suited shoulder.
"Hello, Lorne," she announced cheerfully, her smile widening as the Pylean froze briefly before turning with almost vampiric-speed.
"Brown-eyes! Don't tell me it's you!"
She chuckled, allowing the demon to pull her into a big hug. "None other," pulling back she peered at him critically, "how've you been?"
All smiles, Lorne nodded happily. "Can't complain."
"I can," piped up Angel as he stopped at a nearby table, "I'm hungry."
She ignored him, as did Lorne, shrugging out of her jacket and laying it on the back of her chair. Douglas--ever the gentleman--pulled the seat out for her and she gave him a smile as she sat before looking to Lorne again.
"Business good?" she asked, blinking suddenly as she realized that Angel, with his damned vampire reflexes, had slipped into the chair next to her only split-seconds before Douglas himself could sit down. The words 'comic farce' floated through her brain as she glared at her ex-husband who, with complete politeness, was now pointing Douglas towards a different seat.
"Never better," Lorne answered, regaining her attention. "Switching to Wolfram and Hart's insurance policy was the best thing I ever did-I actually look forward to people demolishing the club now--gives me an excuse to redecorate."
Angel growled--no doubt at the mention of the law firm--and she considered
extending this particular conversation topic with Lorne just to piss him
off. Douglas' nervousness at her ex's version of caveman language, however,
warned her against the idea and she let it drop, choosing
instead to smile as she patted Lorne's arm. "Well, it's good to see
Caritas up and running
still--I've searched for other places like it and found a serious case
of demon phobia among the hospitality industry."
Angel, now perusing the menu, muttered something about the day's specials but Lorne talked right over him. "I'm definitely in a niche-market, that's for sure." Red eyes darted to Douglas curiously. "Now, who is this hunk of Baywatch-goodness?"
Grinning broadly, Cordelia reached across the table to grasp Douglas' hand. "Lorne, this is my fiancé, Douglas Sanderson III. Dougy, this is a very special friend of mine, Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok Clan."
Lorne leant past a still-perusing Angel to shake the man's hand, smiling genteelly. "Just Lorne, Buttercup--titles make me blush."
Snapping the menu shut, Angel slapped Douglas' back companionably. "And with Lorne's complexion, that isn't as easy as it sounds, Doug."
Lorne and Cordelia rolled their eyes as Douglas chuckled along with Angel, Cordelia taking the menu from the vampire.
"So, you guys here for liquids or solids?" asked Lorne.
"Both," answered Angel, stealing Douglas' menu and putting it aside, "allow me," he insisted. "We'll have the special, thanks, Lorne." To Douglas, he explained, "Lorne's specials are great--full of all that nutrition-y goodness stuff."
'Nutrition-y goodness?' Cordelia found herself mouthing. Hazel eyes found dark brown, and when she found Angel grinning broadly, she couldn't suppress the roll of her eyes. He winked back. 'Moron'.
"Sounds nice," agreed Doug.
Lorne raised an eyebrow, "you're a fan of O-Pos Souffle, my Big Blonde Melon?"
Cordelia snorted. "Doug and I'll have roast-beef sandwiches," she decided, seeing Doug's sudden grimace as she handed Lorne the menus and offered Angel a sarcastic grin, "after all, we wouldn't want you to have to share."
Angel's smile was entirely too unabashed.
--
It was almost fun, he decided, as Lorne headed away to organize their food. As long as he could--temporarily, at least--disregard the fact that HIS wife was considering marrying someone ELSE, the whole playing-with-Dougy-Boy's-naivety was quite amusing. Like when he used to dangle Dru's affections in front of a wheelchair-bound Spike--a little cruel but oh-so-enjoyable.
Besides, Cordelia could hate him as much as she liked now; later she'd be thanking him for saving her from making such a huge mistake. If nothing else, he was sure of THAT.
"Well, well, well," he started, fixing Doug with another appraising look. "So you two are getting married--how does that feel, Doug?"
"It feels awful good," Doug answered, smiling across the table at Cordy.
"I'm sure it does," Angel replied, idly wondering what Doug would look like with a broken nose, "you're getting a hell of a girl for yourself."
"I realize that," nodded Doug. "Things have been different for me ever since I met Cordy. I've ever met anyone quite like her before. Everybody else I've ever known... well, you could always tell ahead of time what they were going to say or do, but Cordy's not like that. You can't tell that about her." He once again caught his gaze with Cordelia. "Getting attacked by that demon was the best thing that ever happened to me."
Angel nodded in time to Doug's simpering, congratulating himself on not throwing up when Doug gave Cordelia a cheesy grin. "That's nice."
When Doug finished oozing, it took Angel almost thirty seconds to realize that Cordy WASN'T going to scoff and snort at the overload of honeyed sap. In fact, he realized as he darted a look at Cordy's bright smile, she seemed to ENJOY hearing it. Angel blinked, a sting of insecurity flitting through him. She had once told him she enjoyed his smiles, that she wanted him to do it more often. Brooding was damned cool. Did she want him to turn into THIS?
Coughing just a little, he leant back in his chair. "Yes, well, you're getting something else too, Doug, you're getting a terrific Warrior." He glanced at Cordy and gave her a sincere--and rakish--smile. "One of the best Seer's ever kissed," he sighed sorrowfully--meaning it despite the dramatic overtones--and shook his head, "I'll be sorry to see her go." In a brief, reluctant moment his smile slipped and he wiped his hand over his mouth to hide the lapse as he faced her. Dark eyes roved over his Cordy's features intensely. "Damn sorry, Cor."
She nodded once, returning the deep gaze. There was a slight jolt with that, a whisper of something that was sparked long ago, but it was severed, too quickly, when Cordelia looked away, breaking the connection. "Oh well," she sighed, "despite everything, if I ever wanted to rejoin the battle between good and evil--which I won't--but if I did, there's only one agency I'd work with."
Grinning, Angel shifted in his chair again. "I'd kill you if you ever worked with anyone else," he stated unequivocally.
"You hear that, Dougy? That's my diploma." And there it was, her laugh, a beautiful crystal clear sound that he hadn't heard in months. Free, unrestricted, and for the moment he was captivated. How long had it been, Angel wondered, torn from his act to gaze at his wife, since she had truly let herself go? Hazel eyes shone brightly, filled with life, brimming with kindness, edged with bitterness over the choices she had made.
He had become just another thing she regretted.
Smiling back, Doug leaned forward. "Well, it sounds like a hell of a business."
Angel fought the grimace before it came to his face, narrowing his eyes at Cordelia. "Only in the summer," Angel quipped. Forcing a smile that was meant to almost scare, Angel turned and continued with, "we try to keep the rest of the year dimension-free."
Not getting the joke, Dougy-Boy's frown intensified as a brief flash of light lit up the space between Cordy's and Angel's chairs. "What was that?"
Raising an eyebrow at his wife--former!--Angel let her field the query as he unobtrusively reached under the table to massage his shin. Damn. He knew one day he'd regret showing her that kick.
"Nothing, Sweetie," Cordy assured him, her gaze cold as ice as she glared at Angel, completely contradicting in comparison to her sweet tone, leaning back as their food appeared. "Thanks, Lorne. Looks great."
The Pylean smiled. "Anytime, Princess," he nodded to the two men, "Bumblebee, Cupcake."
Breaking off some pastry, Angel dunked it in the warm blood, inordinately pleased when Doug turned a shade of green that could have rivaled Lorne's skin tone. "So, getting married, huh?" he reiterated once again, "where are you planning to live?"
Dougy-Boy swallowed hard, his excessively large Adam's apple bobbing like a buoy--Angel wondered if Cordy would thank him if he jabbed that protrusion towards the back the guy's throat; surely something that big got in the way?--and tore his gaze away from Angel's lunch. "Maine."
"Maine, huh?" Angel looked at Doug curiously. "Got family up there?"
Doug nodded. "Oh yes--my parents."
"Parents," Angel repeated, sliding a look at Cordy. She merely arched an eyebrow, as if DARING him to comment. "You're gonna live with your parents?"
With a half-smile, Doug took a bite of his sandwich. "Not quite--they've got a granny flat above the garage--we'll live there for the first year until we find a house of our own."
Angel grinned broadly. "Oh, well that WILL be nice, won't it? At home with the parents--in a granny flat--in Maine too!"
Another kick, another flash of light, and Angel simply grinned as he nibbled on another blood-soaked piece of pastry. One of these days Cordy was gonna remember that he never turned down a dare, or a challenge.
"It's a lovely town, Maine. Stephen King lives there, you know?" Doug offered, obviously blind to Angel's sarcasm.
Angel frowned. "Never cared much for King's books--all full of monsters and demons--" he shook his head, "--nothing like real life." Cordy snorted and Doug blinked, but before either could comment, Angel sighed. "Still, not a bad place, I suppose." A grin suddenly lit up his features and he swiveled in his chair to face Cordy. "Say! Do you remember the time you had a vision about the Gorgaltia Sea Monster?"
It was reluctant, he could tell, but slowly a matching grin spread across his wife's features. "You mean the one where the good coastal townsfolk were about to become the appetizers for its 'return to society' debut? How could I forget! Thing was almost as big as Mayor Wilkins."
"Snake Wilkins," Angel corrected her, entranced by the sparkle that seemed to light up her eyes--he was right, she wasn't done with the mission; she COULDN'T be, not with that look--and make her glow, but in a non-demon-y way.
"You know a man named 'Snake'?" Doug interrupted then, a confused look on his face, and Angel withheld a sigh as he watched Cordy redirect her grin to someone else.
"He wasn't named 'Snake'," she explained, "he WAS a snake."
"Back in OUR old hometown," Angel continued, not afraid to add some emphasis, "Sunnydale's Mayor ascended during Cor's high school graduation--turned himself into a twenty-foot serpent." He smiled a little at the memory. "It was a killer ceremony." He tipped his head in her direction. "Cordy dusted her first vamp that day."
For a second she looked at him, a little startled, and he knew that she'd never expected him to remember that tiny little slice of her past. A pleased smile then drifted across her face. "Well, using a stake sure beat my old spatula, that's for sure."
"Good times," agreed Angel, dipping a spoon into his soufflé.
Unmindful of the blood dripping from the cutlery, he gestured a little
in Doug's direction. "Quite different from your line of work, I'd
say," he hypothesized, licking the back of the spoon. Doug's green
hue went ash-grey, much to Angel's delight. "How is the business in Maine?"
Looking away, Doug fiddled with his napkin. "Good, actually--Maine's a mighty nice insurance town--most people up there take it out pretty early in life."
Angel nodded. "Uh huh, I can see why they would."
This time, when Cordy kicked him, he sent her a deliberately questioning look. 'What'd I say?' he projected with a load of innocence. She glared back. He quirked an eyebrow. One of these days, she was really going to have to learn that dumb and stupid bored her really quickly. Wasn't Groo enough of an example?
Doug, AGAIN oblivious to this little exchange, nodded enthusiastically. "See, I figure I'm in a business that really helps people." Lorne silently reappeared at the table, collecting their plates. "Of course, we don't help you much while you're alive, but afterward--that's what counts!"
No, thought Angel, what counts is helping people to STAY alive. Mentally he added 'insurance agents' into the same category as 'lawyers': evil. Out loud, however, he laughed, "sure!" Deliberately, he stopped in mid-chuckle, frowned, and stated. "I don't get it."
Doug blinked, Cordy kicked, and Lorne jumped as a bright flash of light almost whited out their vision. "Yow!"
Cordy looked up apologetically. "Er, sorry, Lorne--my foot must have slipped."
Ruby-red eyebrows almost merged with similarly colored horns, but Lorne simply smiled, nodded and backed away from the table with a limp. "Quite alright, my Transcendent Tamale."
Cordy flushed and Angel smirked.
"Nice one."
--
'Okay, Cordelia. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes and you're home free, and on a plane, and leaving the entire Angel Investigations life behind for good.'
Cordelia forced a smile on her face, leaning back in her chair, to study the two men (okay, one man and one very annoying vampire) as they sat side by side. Douglas, always unfailingly polite, listened with a genuine smile on his face. Angel's smile was... well... scary.
It had been a while, but Cordelia would never forget the innate quirks that made the Broody Champion (who was being entirely too non-broody for her peace of mind) tick. Angel had scared off men before, but this was... different. Almost... her eyes narrowed, studying the interaction... new. Happy Angel?
It was eerily reminiscent of Angelus, and with nary a Broody Angel in sight, Cordelia was slightly at a loss. She had been prepared for angst, pleads, broken hearted denials- Not SINGING.
Good LORD – ANYTHING BUT THE SINGING.
Her heart skipped a beat slightly, panic welling in her throat as Doug, always game for anything, was already moving onto the stage, microphone in hand.
She blinked. 'What the hell?'
"Umm... hey. Is this thing on?" Eyes widening in unspoken horror, Cordelia's insides twisted in an unmistakable knot as Angel himself tapped on the free microphone. 'Please, not him. Please not him, Please, not him-' "Hey, guys. I'm Angel. Now, I'm not going to be singing tonight-"
Collective sighs of relief rose through the hall. Cordelia herself slumped back, blowing out a breath.
"-But I wanted to personally introduce a new friend of mine. Very lucky man, named Douglas. He's a first-timer, so let's make him feel welcome!"
Despite the overwhelming feeling of dread, Cordelia couldn't help the grin that slipped on her features as Angel moved off the stage, and Douglas was left alone, visibly nervous.
He flashed another smile, and looked in her general direction, the glare of the stage lights obstructing his vision any further. "I... um..." he coughed, scratching at his hair. "I... guess this one is for my Cordy."
She winced. 'Thanks, Angel. So glad that caught on.'
"Sugar. Oh, Honey, honey-"
Cordelia blinked, overwhelming surprise flitting over her as she recognized the song her fiancé was slaughtering. "The Archies?" From beside the stage, Angel was grinning entirely too broadly.
Behind her, she felt the demon before she saw him. Cordelia offered Lorne a smile, and the Host winked back. "Like old times, hey Princess?"
Old times. Cordelia's smile froze. Old times.
Sitting at this table, in Angel's lap in an effort to keep him seated, whispering in his ear to behave when Wesley walked into the room. Sitting at a version of this table, tired and wet, eyes closed as she waited with a heavy heart for Angel to tell Darla his baby couldn't be born.
Slow dancing in the wee hours of the morning, held close seconds before the bomb was dropped and number eight went up in flames.
She had been forced to wear a gauze for a month after that.
"Yeah," she replied tightly. "Old times. Not if I can help it."
Lorne held the seabreeze in his hand, and in his eyes was the distracted gleam.
He was reading Douglas.
With the realization came an instant bout of anger. Cordelia stiffened in her chair, eyes whipping back to where Douglas was bobbing his head, almost head banging to his version of 'Sugar, Sugar'.
Lorne continued to read, cocking his head, mouth pulling into a frown. He shifted feet. Cordelia, throat suddenly parched, swiveled her gaze toward the side of the stage. Angel stared back, smile gone, eyes also focused on Lorne.
Oh, HELL NO-
Voice tight, mouth still frozen in that smile, she inclined her head. "I don't want to know."
Lorne had always been a friend, a good friend. Cordelia had long ago come to trust him, heed his advice. At those moment, years of memories struggling to the surface, she just wanted him gone. Away.
Lorne's frown deepened. His piercing gaze held something that she didn't want to touch with a ten foot pole. "Sweetpea-"
"I don't want to know. Anything 'aura-wise' is 'power-wise' and I'm done with that, Lorne. So if you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you stayed out of it."
"Slightly touchy with the PMS today, aren't we, Cordelia?" he asked pointedly. Cordelia felt her insides give, but she held firm. No one did 'bitch-fight' better than she did. She knew that, and so did he.
"Don't start, Lorne. I didn't come here for guidance. I didn't want to come here at all. I don't want to hear that you 'don't think it will work out', because it will, and I don't want to hear you say that 'the mission will never leave me' because it already did, and I don't want to hear anything about Angel 'needing a Seer', because he's managed just fine without one for months."
"That all, Cordee-lite?"
The slight reminder of her less-than-glowy state almost earned him another snap, but Douglas chose the moment to almost yodel the 'I can make love so sweet' line, and both heads swiveled to the front.
Thanks to the wonders of peripheral vision, Cordelia also caught her ex-husband wincing as he covered his ears.
"We clear?" Cordelia said, voice conversational.
"Crystal as LA on a smog-y day," Lorne quipped. "One thing I am curious about," he said finally, voice so deceptively casual, she almost believed he was actually just asking. "The visions, sugar lips. Still have them, don't you?"
The tightening of her stomach almost made her nauseous. Keeping her eyes on her fiancé, her hands tightened around the glass, cool condensation keeping her palms from overheating. The anger was boiling just slightly, a sliver of frustration was just enough for her to turn her head and view the aura reader directly. "IF what you're implying is that simply because I'm vision-bound I'm somehow obligated to the cause, you're wrong, Lorne."
"Ah."
"Furthermore, and please understand, that I am by no means attempting to justify myself to you, just trying to shut you up-"
"Of course."
"I learned something. Up there, remember?" she snapped, pointing furiously toward the ceiling. "I learned a lot of things, but one of them was control – over the visions. I just put a buffer over my head and the things just bounce back like rubber."
"So you never get them."
"Not if I concentrate," she responded.
"Ah." The awkward tension was harsh, she knew, compared to the warm smiles they were sharing earlier, but the decision had been made. Lorne, like everyone was just going to have to deal. "Sounds like you got it all figured out, don't you?"
"Shut up, Lorne," she said patronizingly, turning back to Douglas. "You don't have to be sarcastic with me. I know your view on the subject, we'll let it go, okay?"
"They hurt you pretty bad, didn't they, kitten?"
She closed her eyes, struggled for control, and managed a deep breath. "Good-BYE, Lorne."
A soft caress on her shoulder was his response. "Be happy, sweetie."
Stinging orbs made her tremble for control, and when she finally had it, she took a breath, opened her eyes, and found Douglas cueing up for another song, amidst the applause from the diversified crowd, Angel himself looking through the books, most likely to pick something to really annoy her.
"Oh, HELL No," she breathed, standing, and moving toward the stage. "Sweetie, that was lovely, but that's really enough."
Both men look startled, and Angel only gave her an innocent smile. "Cordelia, Doug-y here is just going to-"
"We don't have time, sweetie," she said quickly, smiling widely as she locked a palm around Doug's wrist, pulling off the stage. Hard.
"Cordelia, don't you think we have time for just one-"
"No." The hard tone quickly was softened by her gentle smile. And it was gentle. Until she directed it toward Angel. The vampire smirked, and she waited, eyes catching his when she said, "The plane is leaving in two hours, remember?"
That was enough to make the smirk stop. That had been all she wanted. Waiting for the smugness to set in, Cordelia found herself looking away, when Angel's expression suddenly changed.
She shuddered. Douglas himself smiled, patting her hand and pulling her closer, folding her into his side.
"Two hours? You're leaving in two hours?" Angel repeated.
"Yeah," Doug confirmed happily. "The flight to Maine with the wedding tomorrow."
"We're really very happy," Cordelia remarked flatly, an arched eyebrow clearly enunciating her point. 'Not one word, Angel', she prayed fervently. 'Please don't make a scene.'
Her heart, still human, despite the demonization and her brief stint as a 'Higher Being', skipped a beat, making her body somehow sweaty and cold at the same time.
But the vampire once again surprised her. He was quiet only a second, before his managed a smile and nodded. "Great."
The glint immediately vanished, and Cordelia couldn't stop the small burst of disappointment that she immediately shoved away. Snuggling further into Douglas' embrace, she smiled back. "Yeah."
--
Two hours.
Two hours.
Two hours.
It was almost a mantra, and Angel found it pounding in his head as he turned from the table, found the dark corner where the Host held another Seabreeze in his hand.
"Well?"
Lorne's eyes were darker than usual, their intensity matched the vampire's, but his frown was deeper. "You've got your work cut out for you, Angelcakes."
Angel paused, glancing back at the table with Cordelia and her fiancé, speaking together in low tones. "She's coming back, Lorne."
"Not if she can help it."
"She can't." The tone was flat, dangerous, and Lorne immediately recognized it. It was visible when the demon's lips twitched slightly, in the hooded gaze that Angel gave, arms crossed, a defensive stance.
Silence spoke more than words, as the Host leaned against the bar, regarded his old friend, the Champion.
"Tell me something, Cinnamon buns," he said. "What makes you think by doing this you're saving her?" Angel's eyes narrowed, but Lorne continued. "A normal life, who's to say that's not wrong? She's suffered, Angel-"
"And she's been happy, Lorne." Angel's voice was low, dark. "Happier than I've ever seen her, when she's working the mission. Helping, and seeing- you read auras, Lorne, but I've been in her. I've loved her, and I've hated her and I've known her more than any one else alive. You know as well as I do that her bitterness isn't toward the mission, but the Powers-"
"Then how do you expect to bring her back to working for them?"
"If what she wants is to screw the Powers, then we'll screw them," Angel said. "But the mission stays." The mission. And him. He took in a breath, felt the demon inside shift, a low growl that was quickly suppressed rippled through, and his mind, ever calculating, began to shift. "Have Faith call my cell phone in a minute."
"Angel-"
"Do it, Lorne."
The "As you wish, your Highness," was disregarded, as Angel turned back to the table.
--
"You had me thinking he was ... well... a vampire, Cordelia."
Cordelia cocked an eyebrow, hand frozen in mid-air, a peanut almost in her mouth. "So you're saying you LIKE him?"
"Well, he's really not that bad."
"Right." Cordelia managed a snort. "Sweetie, he really IS that bad." Douglas gave her a small shrug. "Okay, NOW, he's not that bad. At least when he's all soul-having."
"Given the right girl, he could make her happy."
Hazel eyes dimmed slightly, and Cordelia watched the vampire as he talked with Lorne.
"Slap-happy," she muttered. A small, disconcerting twinge in her heart made her smile turn into a grimace, thoughts distracted as she dimly heard-
"He's not the man for you. I can see that. But I sort of like him."
"Do you?" Angel's hair hadn't changed. It was soft, gelled tufts, small strands that sometimes got loose and tickled at his ears. She used to play with those, usually in a post-sex coital, long fingernails sliding over his lobes, playing while he lay there, chocolate brown eyes dizzy with pleasure-
"He's got a lot of charm."
"Well, he comes by it naturally. His grandfather apparently tasted like a snake," she responded without thinking.
She didn't quite realize Douglas was choking until he almost spit his
coke all over the table.
--
He returned to find Cordelia fawning all over the blonde Bimbo while the guy was snorting all over Lorne's table.
"Something wrong?"
Douglas flashed an 'okay' sign, gripping onto Cordelia as she smoothed a hand over his back. "Just takes some getting used to," he managed.
"What?"
"You," Cordelia snapped. Angel's mouth twitched slightly, but the hazel caught and held him, and in no mood to look away, he projected the very picture of innocence.
"You can't be leaving so soon," he said. "We just got here."
"And now, we're leaving," Cordelia said. "Doug's mother is waiting, and-"
"His mother?" Angel blinked. "Your mother?"
"Yes, Angel," Cordelia said, voice firm, edged in ice. Angel almost smiled. The inner-bitch in Cordelia had a spark that was captivating, particularly for a vampire. No other breed, human or demon, could every really appreciate that. "She's coming with us."
Cordelia. Coddling this guy's mother. Right.
"Wow, well, that's... great. I mean, I have to admit, I was a little worried there, you know- what with all the demons and all, but knowing that your MOTHER... that just relieves my mind."
Douglas blinked, still confused as to whether that was a compliment or an insult, but the gleam had returned to Cordelia's eyes. She crossed her arms, a slight smirk on her face as she slipped on her leather jacket.
"How cruel we were, Dougy, to let Angel suffer like that. Isn't he sweet?" she asked Douglas. "Even now, divorced and all, he's still just wants to protect me."
Fake admiration or not, Angel still smiled widely, sheepishly shrugging his shoulders. Would an 'aww shucks' been too much? Judging by the 'murder-death-kill' look in Cordelia's orbs, he thought it might. "I admit, Douglas, I wasn't much of a husband, what with the always running off to save the world, and all, but, Cordelia knows she could always count on me."
"Don't be so sure," Cordelia remarked. "Half the time I was protecting you."
Again, her eyes locked with his, and a small shadow of a smile, almost invisible, but it was there, flashed across the bee stung lips. In her eyes, he could almost see the past, memories of their journey together, from Seers to Champions, heartache and turmoil, separations and reunions.
Death and life. Hope and salvation.
"No," he corrected softly. "Every minute, of every hour, you were saving me."
The face was beautiful, but her eyes connected into his soul.
"Well, umm... Angel, that's really sweet, but... I kinda think I can protect her just fine. All-State wrestling champ." Angel blinked, and suddenly HE was there, and the temptation to tear the head from the body was so overwhelming, he welcomed the dingy ringing of his cellphone.
Reaching into his coat, he fumbled with it, flashing an apologetic smile, ignoring the flush of Cordelia's cheeks to press the damned little phone to his ear.
"What!" he snapped.
"Angel, not wanting to interrupt the social hour and crap, but can you fucking drop the asshole and come back?"
The angry voice of Faith brought some measure of sanity, and fully aware of the two sets of gazes boring into his leather clad back, Angel raised his voice a pitch.
"Wesley!? You can't do that-"
"Wesley?! What the fuck are you talking about? This is Faith!"
"Dammit, Wesley. We can't now! Not now! We need you to-"
"Angel, what the fuck are you on?"
"Dammit, Wes..."
"Angel, if you don't get off your crack high right now, I'm going to find you and ram a stake so far up your ass it'll come out of your-"
"Fine. Tell Fred we'll figure it out." He snapped the phone closed, exhaled a loud sigh. Cordelia cocked an eyebrow. Douglas just looked confused. Again. Angel sighed again. He stamped his foot for emphasize, pulled his hand into a fist and banged it on the table self righteously. Inching one eye opened, he checked to make sure they were still watching.
Cordelia had her arms crossed. 'Nice try.'
He covered his face with his hands as he slumped into his chair to keep from betraying the smile on his lips.
"Is something wrong?" There was genuine concern in Douglas' voice.
Angel let out another sigh for good measure, and slouched in the chair, voice strained and angry. "It's the case."
"What's Wesley doing on it?" Cordelia's voice was flat. "He's not mediating, is he?"
Angel glanced up, an incredulous look on his handsome features. "Who else would do it?"
"Because the charger is Skip-"
"I can't be involved," he acknowledged.
"Standard trial procedure?" she asked again.
"Locked and loaded- three oracles make the decision- presuming the Powers don't make the pardon."
"And the plan is- Wait." She had to actually shake herself, grimace and pull herself away from the case. Angel noted it, hands itching to sit her down, soothe her trembling shoulders. Again, the anger came, frustration coupled with pain and aching hurt. She had been alive then, truly alive as the hazel glowed with news of the case.
Why was she doing this to herself?
"I don't want to know," she finally said. "I shouldn't..."
Angel sat, suddenly focused on the fingers of Douglas, snaking around Cordelia's waist, pulling her in closer. "Why don't you tell ME about the case?" Douglas asked. "I'm finding it very interesting. And very confusing."
Even the fiancé saw it, even if he was too stupid to understand what it meant.
There was a voice in his head, a small one, that said it was wrong to mess with a decent guy who's only faults, it seemed, were having the IQ of a deer and being in love with Angel's wife.
But he pushed it away easily enough. When push came to shove, vampires in love were never to be argued with.
And vampires on a mission were even worse.
--
End chapter