Part 2
Wes climbed over the front seat and slid in next to Fred. "What
is this rubbish?" he asked as he buckled his seat belt.
"This isn't 'rubbish,' English," Gunn shot from front of the car, where he was turning up the volume to the CD he had just put in. "This is Nelly."
"Nelly? That doesn't sound like a woman," Wes responded, scooting over to make room for Connor.
"I have an aunt in Texas named Nelly," Fred broke in before Gunn could respond. "She always made us the most delicious cinnamon cookies when we were little. Every time we went over to her house, we got as many as we wanted. But then, after a couple of years of having a bunch of cinnamon cookies every Sunday, we all got kinda sick of them." Fred turned to Connor with a thoughtful look. "I think that's why I can't eat cinnamon anymore."
"Well, I can't eat it after watching Cordy put it Angel's blood," Wes said, shifting toward her in agreement.
"Seriously. That's nasty," Gunn agreed.
"I think it's sweet that she does that," Fred said. "Taking care of her man and all that. It's so romantic."
"She makes me cinnamon toast sometimes," Connor told the group. After a moments pause, he continued, "But I don't think she's being romantic."
"I should hope not," Wes commented.
"Yeah, and Cordy's really too caught up in the manpire all her own to be trying to hit on you Connor," Fred patted him comfortingly on the arm. "I think you're safe from any of her romantic aspirations."
"But always better to be safe than sorry, Connor." Wesley interjected. "Cordy always seems to have a few doxies at the ready, and while it might seem that they think you are charming and mysterious, driving an ax into a wall is not the foundation for a serious long term relationship."
"Considering you bagged Lilah Morgan," Gunn started with a smirk. "I don't really think that you should be the complaining type."
"Hey!" Wes gave the obligatory protest.
"And can we get back to the matter at hand here folks?" Gunn asked, smiling at the mock glare Wesley was shooting him.
"We had a matter at hand?" Fred questioned confusedly.
"Yes, baby. Wesley here had the nerve to call Nelly a woman. He's not a woman, though. He is one fine rapper and whole of a lot better than that classical crap that you listen to."
"Classical crap?!" Wesley cried indignantly. "Rap cannot even be considered real music. It's just a bunch of people talking."
"What?!" Gunn's voice was almost a squeak.
"Wesley, rap is a lot more than 'just a bunch of people talking,'" Connor broke into the argument, glancing across at Wes with a look of disappointment and slight pity. "It is more than just music, more than just art. Rap is rhyme, rhythm, and beats mastered together to challenge society as a whole and break down the walls built up by decades of music produced by upper class white suburbia."
"Ha!" Gunn grinned and high-fived Connor. "That's my man!"
"You two have been spending way too much time around each other," Fred murmured with an affectionate smile.
"And what message, pray tell, is this particular piece of art trying to portray?" Wes questioned, raising his eyebrow.
Gunn and Connor glanced at each other. "It's gettin' hot in herre, so take off all your clothes."
"Somebody shoot me, please," Wes muttered, letting out a quiet chuckle.
"Yeah," Fred laughed at the two boys. "I could really go for some earplugs right about now."
"I am gettin' so hot. I wanna take my clothes off...."
"Ahem," came a cough from just outside the door.
The car trailed into silence as four pairs of eyes stared up at the stony face of the man they had been waiting for. Opening the door, Angel slid silently in, staring at the stereo. "What are we listening to?" he asked
"Exactly." Wes leaned forward to tap Gunn on the shoulder. "Indistinguishable to the civilized man."
"Don't pretend that you don't like this music, Angel." Gunn playfully slapped Wes's hand away. "We all know that you've got some Jay-Z and Ludarcris up in your room. Getting down with your bad self."
"Not your evil bad self," Fred quipped. "Just your regular bad self."
"Thanks Fred." Angel flipped the channel. "And Gunn? Get out my business, my biznass. And we're listening to classical."
"Ha!"
"Someone sure woke up on the wrong side of the coffin," Gunn grumbled.
"That's actually a common misconception about vampires in general," Wes said, taking off his glasses and setting his expression to lecture mode. "Vampires don't sleep in coffins. They are often known to-"
"We know," came the chorus.
"I wasn't being serious here, Wes," Gunn turned sideways in his seat as the car lurched forward and Angel eased them into the light nighttime traffic. "I'm just saying that our resident vampire seems to be a little cranky this evening."
"It's because you miss Cordy, huh, Angel?" Fred asked, leaning forward. "You're just looking forward to goin' to Sunnydale so that you can see your lady love, again."
Taking Angel's grunt as a disagreement, Wes said dryly, "Fred, nobody ever looks forward to going to Sunnydale."
"What's so bad about Sunnydale?" Connor asked, curiosity evident on his face. "Is the town really overrun by evil, killer blondes?"
"You know, I've actually been wondering why you all hate it so much, too." Gunn turned so that he could better talk to the back seat. "It can't really be all that bad, can it?"
"Gunn, it's located on a hellmouth," Angel said slowly, as though he had just asked the dumbest question ever.
"Yeah, okay, I get that. But don't you all have friends there. Isn't there some Scooby Gang that you all used to belong to?"
"What's a Scooby Gang?" Connor asked, shifting slightly as they entered the freeway and his father lay on the gas a little harder than usual.
"The Scooby Gang is just a group of people in Sunnydale that we used to know. They, with the help of the Slayer, are who keep the Hellmouth under control," Wesley explained, watching as Angel's hands clenched the wheel tighter and his jaw seemed to lock. "And as far as belonging goes, Cordy is really the only one that belonged to that group. Which is probably why she's the only one looking forward to going back."
"I can't wait to meet the B-word," Fred blurted out suddenly. "I real, live Slayer. I mean, wow. We are going to meet her, right?"
Wesley stiffened slightly in his seat at the way Angel's jaw tightened at Fred's question. "Well, I don't really know that we will get to-"
"You guys know the Slayer?" Connor interrupted, remembering the stories Holtz had told him about the supernatural being. Judging by the way the car jerked as Angel shifted into another lane, he was getting the impression that maybe his father didn't really like his questions.
"Uh, that would be the evil, killer blonde that Cordy mentioned," Gunn remarked, a slight smirk on his face.
"I thought the Slayer was for the side of good. How is she an evil, killer blonde?" Connor questioned Fred, his eyes wide at the notion.
"Connor, she's only evil in the sense that she has saved the world like a million times," Angel bit out from a locked jaw. The agitation was clear in his voice.
"Cordy was only saying evil, killer blonde in the sense that she and Buffy have not always gotten along," Wes clarified quickly, trying to be as gentle as possible in an effort to not upset Angel any further.
"If Cordy was a part of their group, why didn't she and this Slayer get along?" Connor posed, choosing to disregard the way his dad's eye was currently twitching.
"Well, it's not so much that they didn't get along," Wes stated slowly. Damn children and their inquisitiveness. This was not something he really wanted to be discussing with Angel right there. "It was. perhaps we could call it. some would say it was a bit of an alpha female thing."
"Plus, with that whole Angel and Buffy angst-fest that we've all heard so much about, Cordy's probably just doing a bit of staking her claim." Gunn smirked at Angel's cringe.
"Why would Cordy have to stake her claim? And what's an angst- fest?"
"What's with all the questions, Barbara Walters?" Angel shot back to his son, sounding frighteningly like Cordelia. Setting his jaw even tighter, Angel stared straight ahead, struggling to bit back the urge to just tell them all to shut the hell up.
"Connor," Fred started slowly, quiet and soothing as though she were trying to calm the growing tension in the car. "According to the files-"
"I am going to burn those damned files," Angel interrupted, muttering under his breath.
Fred flinched slightly at his words, but decided that it would appease Connor best if she continued. She would have to pick her words carefully. "According to the files, Angel and Buffy, the Slayer, met while in Sunnydale. But because of Angel's curse, when the two reached the intimacy of intercourse, you remember that conversation, right?" She smiled at his nod, not noticing the way that he was now shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the mention of his father's sex life. "Well, Angelus was released. It took them several months to bring him down, but he was eventually sent to hell. When Angel came back, he decided that it was best for him leave Sunnydale and Buffy. That's why he came to L.A. That's where he is now."
"Angelus?" The question came out low and dangerous, reminiscent of a boy full of rage.
"Well, Connor," Wes broke in before Fred had the chance to answer. "Yes. Angelus did make an appearance in Sunnydale. But Angel's soul was restored. Angelus is gone now."
"But Cordy still has a thing about it," Gunn added. "It's the ex syndrome. You can't ever shake it."
"Gunn!" Fred admonished.
"You know what, guys?" Angel burst out suddenly, the tension having grown too much for him. "This conversation is over now. Cordy has nothing to worry about. You all have nothing to worry about. We are going to Sunnydale. We are going to have a grand time for Cordy. Then we are going to come home. And that is going to be it! Do you understand?"
Silence settled over the vehicle, each person lost in their own thoughts, as the not-so-soothing strains of classical music floated over them.
***********
Angel walked briskly toward the hotel room he would share with Cordelia, the tension still thick in his shoulders. The car ride had been one of the worst trips he could ever remember. Not another word had been spoken since his outburst. Two hours in the car with his family, and nothing but stony silence.
If he had had to stay in the car that much longer, he would have staked himself.
Pushing open the door, Angel stepped into the dark room to find Cordelia sprawled, unmoving and groaning painfully, across the bed. She was wearing a pair of his black boxers and a small gray t-shirt. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and her eyes drooped sleepily.
"Hey there," he spoke softly, dropping his suitcase and shutting the door behind him. "How's it going?"
"Ugh," she moaned back at him, her eyes fluttering in response.
Shucking off his coat and dropping it on hotel table, Angel smiled softly, feeling the tension drain at just the sight of her. Moving over to the bed, he dropped down beside her, running a light hand through her hair. "What's wrong, baby?"
"I am so old," she whined to him. "I thought your training was supposed to be keeping me in shape. Today was hell."
"Feeling that extra weight today, huh?" Angel laughed softly, bending down to remove his shoes. "Not quite the same as you were back in your high school days?"
"High school wasn't that long ago. When did I get so freakin' old?" she grumbled at him, opening one eye to glare at him as menacingly as she could through her tired daze. "And there's no extra weight, jerk."
Chuckling lightly, Angel stood to move to the small bathroom, taking his suitcase with him. "Of course there isn't," he told her, settling his belongings before removing his clothes for the night. "You have a beautiful body."
Cordy felt a small smile form at the sincerity of his words. "I know."
Angel chuckled lightly at her response. Even down and dog-tired, you couldn't take the Cordy out of Cordy. "So, what all did you have to do today?"
Cordelia choked back a frustrated grunt at the memory. "There was the running, and the jumping, and all of the drills. Do you know that I can't even do the splits anymore? And I about broke my neck trying to get back some of the flips. I used to be able to do all of those things. What's wrong with me?"
Stepping back into the small room clad in nothing but a pair of boxers, Angel felt his smile grow even wider. Ten minutes ago, he didn't think that it would have been possible for him to smile, but that is just what this woman did for him. Made the impossible possible. "Well, it's been a long time since you've had to do any of those things. It's no wonder that it would be difficult now."
Cordy huffed loudly as she felt Angel's weight settle on the bed beside her. "It's not difficult, Angel. It's damned near impossible. I used to be the head of the team. The best cheerleader. Now, I'm the old fat one."
"You're hardly fat."
"Yeah, thanks. Could you put anymore protest behind those words?" she asked him sarcastically, turning her head to see him lounging across the bed with his head propped up on his hand. "And the rest of the girls they invited back, the ones from my year. Almost all of them could still do it. I kept getting all of these pitying looks!" The glare was now set in two open eyes as Angel laughed at her complaints. "Stupid bitches!"
Pushing up into a sitting position, Angel laid his hands lightly over her back, massaging at the taut muscles. "I'm sure it isn't all that bad, Cor."
Relaxing into his touch, she tried to hang onto the resentment. "But I'm just gonna stand there tomorrow, shaking a pom pon for like two seconds. I didn't come all the way down here to shake a pom pon for a few seconds."
Leaning over to drop a light kiss on her shoulder, Angel said, "But I'm sure you'll look absolutely beautiful doing it."
Cordelia moaned, letting a reluctant smile drift across her features. Her back arched up as he lifted up the cloth of her top and his cool hands kneaded her bare skin. "Have I told you lately that I love you? Have I told you there's no one else above you?"
Shifting closer to her, Angel slid his hands up across her shoulders. "You know I would find that a lot more romantic if you hadn't made me learn so much about modern pop culture."
"Hey!" she whined. "I'm tired and sore. and tired. I can't be expected to be all romantic at a time like this."
"You know," he told her, his voice going high-pitched in an exaggerated imitation of her voice. "I really think that I deserve romance, no matter what mood you are in. I am special, dammit, and I expect to be treated as such."
Cordy laughed despite herself. "You just wait, you big meanie. When I can move again, I'm gonna kick your ass."
"Well, considering how out of shape you are, I don't really think that I have much to worry about."
"Ha!" she scoffed, swatting his leg half-heartedly. "You just wait, buster. You'll be sorry."
Running his hands swiftly down her back once more, Angel shifted to lie down, pulling Cordelia to snuggle into the cradle of his arms. He dropped a kiss just below her ear. "I can hardly wait."
The two settled into a peaceful silence. Angel moved his head back slightly so that he could watch as Cordy drifted off to sleep in his arms, her graceful features illuminated softly by the dim glow of the light filtering through the curtains.
This was one of his favorite parts of the day. Cordelia, resting in his arms, settling into sleep, completely at home in his embrace. Her features were so delicate when she slept. Peaceful and content.
It never ceased to amaze him that she could find happiness with him. It would never cease to amaze him that she chose him over everything. Cordelia Chase, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, loved him. Loved him completely.
Closing his eyes, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. Taking a deep breath, Angel let the sweet scent that was her surround him, her even breathing lull him into sleep.
"I saw her today," Cordy whispered sleepily.
"Hmm?" Angel mumbled.
"I saw Buffy. Today. At school," she told him, turning her head and opening her eyes a little to take in his reaction.
Angel forced himself not to stiffen as her words jolted him from his sleepiness. "Did you?"
"Yeah. I guess she works there now. She's a counselor or something."
"She has a job?" Angel asked incredulously.
"Apparently."
"Wow. Wonder how she fits it into her schedule,"
Nodding slightly, Cordy turned her head to settle back down into the pillow. "I don't think she saw me, but I asked the new principal, and he told me. So. she'll definitely be there tomorrow."
Angel winced. Damn. The horror of the car ride came back to him full force. He really did not want to have to deal with this. And speaking of, " You know, Cordelia. You shouldn't be saying bad things about Buffy to Connor."
"I didn't say anything bad about Buffy to Connor. I've never even mentioned her to him."
"Really?" he questioned. "Not even something about evil, killer blondes?"
"Okay," she amended, her breathing evening out again. "So, I've never directly said anything bad about Buffy to Connor."
"Just. you know." Angel tried to search for the words to tell her what he needed to tell her. "You know you don't have anything to worry about? Right?"
As silence was his only answer, Angel realized that Cordy had finally drifted off into sleep. But he now found himself unable to do the same. She had to know that she had nothing to worry about from Buffy. Right?
"This isn't 'rubbish,' English," Gunn shot from front of the car, where he was turning up the volume to the CD he had just put in. "This is Nelly."
"Nelly? That doesn't sound like a woman," Wes responded, scooting over to make room for Connor.
"I have an aunt in Texas named Nelly," Fred broke in before Gunn could respond. "She always made us the most delicious cinnamon cookies when we were little. Every time we went over to her house, we got as many as we wanted. But then, after a couple of years of having a bunch of cinnamon cookies every Sunday, we all got kinda sick of them." Fred turned to Connor with a thoughtful look. "I think that's why I can't eat cinnamon anymore."
"Well, I can't eat it after watching Cordy put it Angel's blood," Wes said, shifting toward her in agreement.
"Seriously. That's nasty," Gunn agreed.
"I think it's sweet that she does that," Fred said. "Taking care of her man and all that. It's so romantic."
"She makes me cinnamon toast sometimes," Connor told the group. After a moments pause, he continued, "But I don't think she's being romantic."
"I should hope not," Wes commented.
"Yeah, and Cordy's really too caught up in the manpire all her own to be trying to hit on you Connor," Fred patted him comfortingly on the arm. "I think you're safe from any of her romantic aspirations."
"But always better to be safe than sorry, Connor." Wesley interjected. "Cordy always seems to have a few doxies at the ready, and while it might seem that they think you are charming and mysterious, driving an ax into a wall is not the foundation for a serious long term relationship."
"Considering you bagged Lilah Morgan," Gunn started with a smirk. "I don't really think that you should be the complaining type."
"Hey!" Wes gave the obligatory protest.
"And can we get back to the matter at hand here folks?" Gunn asked, smiling at the mock glare Wesley was shooting him.
"We had a matter at hand?" Fred questioned confusedly.
"Yes, baby. Wesley here had the nerve to call Nelly a woman. He's not a woman, though. He is one fine rapper and whole of a lot better than that classical crap that you listen to."
"Classical crap?!" Wesley cried indignantly. "Rap cannot even be considered real music. It's just a bunch of people talking."
"What?!" Gunn's voice was almost a squeak.
"Wesley, rap is a lot more than 'just a bunch of people talking,'" Connor broke into the argument, glancing across at Wes with a look of disappointment and slight pity. "It is more than just music, more than just art. Rap is rhyme, rhythm, and beats mastered together to challenge society as a whole and break down the walls built up by decades of music produced by upper class white suburbia."
"Ha!" Gunn grinned and high-fived Connor. "That's my man!"
"You two have been spending way too much time around each other," Fred murmured with an affectionate smile.
"And what message, pray tell, is this particular piece of art trying to portray?" Wes questioned, raising his eyebrow.
Gunn and Connor glanced at each other. "It's gettin' hot in herre, so take off all your clothes."
"Somebody shoot me, please," Wes muttered, letting out a quiet chuckle.
"Yeah," Fred laughed at the two boys. "I could really go for some earplugs right about now."
"I am gettin' so hot. I wanna take my clothes off...."
"Ahem," came a cough from just outside the door.
The car trailed into silence as four pairs of eyes stared up at the stony face of the man they had been waiting for. Opening the door, Angel slid silently in, staring at the stereo. "What are we listening to?" he asked
"Exactly." Wes leaned forward to tap Gunn on the shoulder. "Indistinguishable to the civilized man."
"Don't pretend that you don't like this music, Angel." Gunn playfully slapped Wes's hand away. "We all know that you've got some Jay-Z and Ludarcris up in your room. Getting down with your bad self."
"Not your evil bad self," Fred quipped. "Just your regular bad self."
"Thanks Fred." Angel flipped the channel. "And Gunn? Get out my business, my biznass. And we're listening to classical."
"Ha!"
"Someone sure woke up on the wrong side of the coffin," Gunn grumbled.
"That's actually a common misconception about vampires in general," Wes said, taking off his glasses and setting his expression to lecture mode. "Vampires don't sleep in coffins. They are often known to-"
"We know," came the chorus.
"I wasn't being serious here, Wes," Gunn turned sideways in his seat as the car lurched forward and Angel eased them into the light nighttime traffic. "I'm just saying that our resident vampire seems to be a little cranky this evening."
"It's because you miss Cordy, huh, Angel?" Fred asked, leaning forward. "You're just looking forward to goin' to Sunnydale so that you can see your lady love, again."
Taking Angel's grunt as a disagreement, Wes said dryly, "Fred, nobody ever looks forward to going to Sunnydale."
"What's so bad about Sunnydale?" Connor asked, curiosity evident on his face. "Is the town really overrun by evil, killer blondes?"
"You know, I've actually been wondering why you all hate it so much, too." Gunn turned so that he could better talk to the back seat. "It can't really be all that bad, can it?"
"Gunn, it's located on a hellmouth," Angel said slowly, as though he had just asked the dumbest question ever.
"Yeah, okay, I get that. But don't you all have friends there. Isn't there some Scooby Gang that you all used to belong to?"
"What's a Scooby Gang?" Connor asked, shifting slightly as they entered the freeway and his father lay on the gas a little harder than usual.
"The Scooby Gang is just a group of people in Sunnydale that we used to know. They, with the help of the Slayer, are who keep the Hellmouth under control," Wesley explained, watching as Angel's hands clenched the wheel tighter and his jaw seemed to lock. "And as far as belonging goes, Cordy is really the only one that belonged to that group. Which is probably why she's the only one looking forward to going back."
"I can't wait to meet the B-word," Fred blurted out suddenly. "I real, live Slayer. I mean, wow. We are going to meet her, right?"
Wesley stiffened slightly in his seat at the way Angel's jaw tightened at Fred's question. "Well, I don't really know that we will get to-"
"You guys know the Slayer?" Connor interrupted, remembering the stories Holtz had told him about the supernatural being. Judging by the way the car jerked as Angel shifted into another lane, he was getting the impression that maybe his father didn't really like his questions.
"Uh, that would be the evil, killer blonde that Cordy mentioned," Gunn remarked, a slight smirk on his face.
"I thought the Slayer was for the side of good. How is she an evil, killer blonde?" Connor questioned Fred, his eyes wide at the notion.
"Connor, she's only evil in the sense that she has saved the world like a million times," Angel bit out from a locked jaw. The agitation was clear in his voice.
"Cordy was only saying evil, killer blonde in the sense that she and Buffy have not always gotten along," Wes clarified quickly, trying to be as gentle as possible in an effort to not upset Angel any further.
"If Cordy was a part of their group, why didn't she and this Slayer get along?" Connor posed, choosing to disregard the way his dad's eye was currently twitching.
"Well, it's not so much that they didn't get along," Wes stated slowly. Damn children and their inquisitiveness. This was not something he really wanted to be discussing with Angel right there. "It was. perhaps we could call it. some would say it was a bit of an alpha female thing."
"Plus, with that whole Angel and Buffy angst-fest that we've all heard so much about, Cordy's probably just doing a bit of staking her claim." Gunn smirked at Angel's cringe.
"Why would Cordy have to stake her claim? And what's an angst- fest?"
"What's with all the questions, Barbara Walters?" Angel shot back to his son, sounding frighteningly like Cordelia. Setting his jaw even tighter, Angel stared straight ahead, struggling to bit back the urge to just tell them all to shut the hell up.
"Connor," Fred started slowly, quiet and soothing as though she were trying to calm the growing tension in the car. "According to the files-"
"I am going to burn those damned files," Angel interrupted, muttering under his breath.
Fred flinched slightly at his words, but decided that it would appease Connor best if she continued. She would have to pick her words carefully. "According to the files, Angel and Buffy, the Slayer, met while in Sunnydale. But because of Angel's curse, when the two reached the intimacy of intercourse, you remember that conversation, right?" She smiled at his nod, not noticing the way that he was now shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the mention of his father's sex life. "Well, Angelus was released. It took them several months to bring him down, but he was eventually sent to hell. When Angel came back, he decided that it was best for him leave Sunnydale and Buffy. That's why he came to L.A. That's where he is now."
"Angelus?" The question came out low and dangerous, reminiscent of a boy full of rage.
"Well, Connor," Wes broke in before Fred had the chance to answer. "Yes. Angelus did make an appearance in Sunnydale. But Angel's soul was restored. Angelus is gone now."
"But Cordy still has a thing about it," Gunn added. "It's the ex syndrome. You can't ever shake it."
"Gunn!" Fred admonished.
"You know what, guys?" Angel burst out suddenly, the tension having grown too much for him. "This conversation is over now. Cordy has nothing to worry about. You all have nothing to worry about. We are going to Sunnydale. We are going to have a grand time for Cordy. Then we are going to come home. And that is going to be it! Do you understand?"
Silence settled over the vehicle, each person lost in their own thoughts, as the not-so-soothing strains of classical music floated over them.
***********
Angel walked briskly toward the hotel room he would share with Cordelia, the tension still thick in his shoulders. The car ride had been one of the worst trips he could ever remember. Not another word had been spoken since his outburst. Two hours in the car with his family, and nothing but stony silence.
If he had had to stay in the car that much longer, he would have staked himself.
Pushing open the door, Angel stepped into the dark room to find Cordelia sprawled, unmoving and groaning painfully, across the bed. She was wearing a pair of his black boxers and a small gray t-shirt. Her hair was still damp from the shower, and her eyes drooped sleepily.
"Hey there," he spoke softly, dropping his suitcase and shutting the door behind him. "How's it going?"
"Ugh," she moaned back at him, her eyes fluttering in response.
Shucking off his coat and dropping it on hotel table, Angel smiled softly, feeling the tension drain at just the sight of her. Moving over to the bed, he dropped down beside her, running a light hand through her hair. "What's wrong, baby?"
"I am so old," she whined to him. "I thought your training was supposed to be keeping me in shape. Today was hell."
"Feeling that extra weight today, huh?" Angel laughed softly, bending down to remove his shoes. "Not quite the same as you were back in your high school days?"
"High school wasn't that long ago. When did I get so freakin' old?" she grumbled at him, opening one eye to glare at him as menacingly as she could through her tired daze. "And there's no extra weight, jerk."
Chuckling lightly, Angel stood to move to the small bathroom, taking his suitcase with him. "Of course there isn't," he told her, settling his belongings before removing his clothes for the night. "You have a beautiful body."
Cordy felt a small smile form at the sincerity of his words. "I know."
Angel chuckled lightly at her response. Even down and dog-tired, you couldn't take the Cordy out of Cordy. "So, what all did you have to do today?"
Cordelia choked back a frustrated grunt at the memory. "There was the running, and the jumping, and all of the drills. Do you know that I can't even do the splits anymore? And I about broke my neck trying to get back some of the flips. I used to be able to do all of those things. What's wrong with me?"
Stepping back into the small room clad in nothing but a pair of boxers, Angel felt his smile grow even wider. Ten minutes ago, he didn't think that it would have been possible for him to smile, but that is just what this woman did for him. Made the impossible possible. "Well, it's been a long time since you've had to do any of those things. It's no wonder that it would be difficult now."
Cordy huffed loudly as she felt Angel's weight settle on the bed beside her. "It's not difficult, Angel. It's damned near impossible. I used to be the head of the team. The best cheerleader. Now, I'm the old fat one."
"You're hardly fat."
"Yeah, thanks. Could you put anymore protest behind those words?" she asked him sarcastically, turning her head to see him lounging across the bed with his head propped up on his hand. "And the rest of the girls they invited back, the ones from my year. Almost all of them could still do it. I kept getting all of these pitying looks!" The glare was now set in two open eyes as Angel laughed at her complaints. "Stupid bitches!"
Pushing up into a sitting position, Angel laid his hands lightly over her back, massaging at the taut muscles. "I'm sure it isn't all that bad, Cor."
Relaxing into his touch, she tried to hang onto the resentment. "But I'm just gonna stand there tomorrow, shaking a pom pon for like two seconds. I didn't come all the way down here to shake a pom pon for a few seconds."
Leaning over to drop a light kiss on her shoulder, Angel said, "But I'm sure you'll look absolutely beautiful doing it."
Cordelia moaned, letting a reluctant smile drift across her features. Her back arched up as he lifted up the cloth of her top and his cool hands kneaded her bare skin. "Have I told you lately that I love you? Have I told you there's no one else above you?"
Shifting closer to her, Angel slid his hands up across her shoulders. "You know I would find that a lot more romantic if you hadn't made me learn so much about modern pop culture."
"Hey!" she whined. "I'm tired and sore. and tired. I can't be expected to be all romantic at a time like this."
"You know," he told her, his voice going high-pitched in an exaggerated imitation of her voice. "I really think that I deserve romance, no matter what mood you are in. I am special, dammit, and I expect to be treated as such."
Cordy laughed despite herself. "You just wait, you big meanie. When I can move again, I'm gonna kick your ass."
"Well, considering how out of shape you are, I don't really think that I have much to worry about."
"Ha!" she scoffed, swatting his leg half-heartedly. "You just wait, buster. You'll be sorry."
Running his hands swiftly down her back once more, Angel shifted to lie down, pulling Cordelia to snuggle into the cradle of his arms. He dropped a kiss just below her ear. "I can hardly wait."
The two settled into a peaceful silence. Angel moved his head back slightly so that he could watch as Cordy drifted off to sleep in his arms, her graceful features illuminated softly by the dim glow of the light filtering through the curtains.
This was one of his favorite parts of the day. Cordelia, resting in his arms, settling into sleep, completely at home in his embrace. Her features were so delicate when she slept. Peaceful and content.
It never ceased to amaze him that she could find happiness with him. It would never cease to amaze him that she chose him over everything. Cordelia Chase, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, loved him. Loved him completely.
Closing his eyes, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. Taking a deep breath, Angel let the sweet scent that was her surround him, her even breathing lull him into sleep.
"I saw her today," Cordy whispered sleepily.
"Hmm?" Angel mumbled.
"I saw Buffy. Today. At school," she told him, turning her head and opening her eyes a little to take in his reaction.
Angel forced himself not to stiffen as her words jolted him from his sleepiness. "Did you?"
"Yeah. I guess she works there now. She's a counselor or something."
"She has a job?" Angel asked incredulously.
"Apparently."
"Wow. Wonder how she fits it into her schedule,"
Nodding slightly, Cordy turned her head to settle back down into the pillow. "I don't think she saw me, but I asked the new principal, and he told me. So. she'll definitely be there tomorrow."
Angel winced. Damn. The horror of the car ride came back to him full force. He really did not want to have to deal with this. And speaking of, " You know, Cordelia. You shouldn't be saying bad things about Buffy to Connor."
"I didn't say anything bad about Buffy to Connor. I've never even mentioned her to him."
"Really?" he questioned. "Not even something about evil, killer blondes?"
"Okay," she amended, her breathing evening out again. "So, I've never directly said anything bad about Buffy to Connor."
"Just. you know." Angel tried to search for the words to tell her what he needed to tell her. "You know you don't have anything to worry about? Right?"
As silence was his only answer, Angel realized that Cordy had finally drifted off into sleep. But he now found himself unable to do the same. She had to know that she had nothing to worry about from Buffy. Right?