Disclaimer: Me: *grudgingly* Still don't own nothin. Are you happy now?
Angel: Yes. Very. Now get your hand out of my back pocket.
Me: *evil grin/pouts* Fine. But only because I know you belong with Cordy.
Chapter 3
By that evening, Angel knew she was different. He'd known her for twenty-four hours and, somehow, he felt like he knew her completely.
Saving a person's life could do wonders for your social life.
Sure, she was brighter and bouncier than he was usually comfortable with, and, yeah, she had that irritating self-centered streak that spawned many 'I'm the queen of you and you and you....' moments. But she was also sweet and beautiful and kind...to him, anyway. And she somehow made him feel...warmer.
At the Bronze that night, he had to force himself to remember all this. After all, he was *not* a social guy. And the Bronze was made for social people.
Tapping his fingers uneasily against the tabletop, Angel looked toward the front doors. Sure enough—
Cordelia walked in, laughing and talking with her usual group. He shifted, recognizing with sudden clarity the wrongness of him being there, in her territory. This was her world, not his.
Tearing his eyes from her, he plucked at the blue button-down he was wearing over black cargos and black shoes, feel insanely stupid.
'Maybe if I try really hard, I can still slip out of here.'
"Angel!" Her voice, the one that had been reverberating around in his head all day, sounded stunned, but happily so. He looked up, hoping to look nonchalent and not all deer-in-headlighty. From her expression, he guessed that was a no-go.
"What are you doing here?" She raised an eyebrow. He shrugged.
"Temporary loss of judgement?"
A giggled escaped her mouth even as the blonde at her side, Harmony, asked, "Who's the hottie?"
"This is Angel," Cordelia replied, taking his arm. He had no choice but to give a little wave.
Harmony's eyes lit up. "Oh, he's *perfect*. Cordy—"
"Do you want to dance?" Cordelia interuptted, ignoring her friend.
"Uh..." Dancing. Of course she would want to dance. Why the hell hadn't he thought of that? "Sure?"
"Great." Grasping his hand firmly, she tugged him into the squirming mass of teenages. He immeadiatly felt claustrophobic.
"Cordy, I—me with the dancing isn't exactly..."
"Relax," she soothed, draping her arms around his neck. "It's slow. I'm sure you won't strain yourself too badly." Leaning back, she looked up at him through inquisitive hazel eyes. "So, again I ask. What are you doing here?"
"Again I'll answer—I'm clearly insane." He glanced at the couple beside him. The girl looked perfectly content, oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend was gazing jealously at another couple several feet away.
"Why are you insane?"
"I hate crowded places," he mumbled, instinctivly tightening his hold on her waist as the jealous guy's eyes bored holes into the back of Cordelia's head.
"I never would've guessed." She snicked, fingers playing absently with the hari at the nape of his neck. He shivered and she frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Just, uh, chilly." He shrugged, unnerved by his own reaction. "In here?" She looked doubtful. "Angel, it must be ninety degrees in here." He didn't respond and she sighed. "Angel, are you scared of dancing?" "No!" A stubborn expression crossed his intense features. "Just uncomfortable, that's all." At her disbelieving look, he added, "Is that a crime?"
"If it's not, it should be," she retorted hotly. "You're seventeen, Angel. You should be outside your sketchbook, living it up."
It was his turn to sigh. "What do you want me to do?"
"It would be niuce is you asked me to the Spring Formal on Friday." Her gaze caught his
He licked his lips. "I...Formal? As in the school dance coming up?"
"Duh. Do you live on another planet or something?" Reaching up, she knocked on his head.
Angel tensed. She was serious; she really wanted him to ask her.
"Okay, I'll think about it." His eyes sparkled. She smiled slyly.
"Playing it that way, huh? Well, that's a mistake, big guy. 'Cause you are messing with the queen of games."
"Like Monopoly?" he teased, feeling himself relax. "Yahtzee, maybe?"
"Like mind-games, dating." She smirked. "And also Go Fish."
A laugh actually burst from his lips. "I'll be sure to challenge that sometime."
"After we go to the dance?" she asked hopefully.
"I'll think about it," he repeated as the song died down. He glanced at his watch. "I should go. Don't want Mom to worry."
Rolling her eyes, Cordelia disentangled herself from him. "Mama's boy."
"Daddy's girl," he shot back, grinning. She hit his arm.
"So I'll see you tomorrow," he added.
"With your answer," she emphazized, making her way back to her table.
"Don't walk home alone," he called back as an afterthought.
She nodded to show that she'd heard as she fell into conversation with some guy Angel didn't know. He scowled as he left, kicking at the ground in annoyance.
Was that jealousy slamming into his gut?
--
By the next morning, he had his decision. When she stepped onto school grounds, he fairly tackled her.
"Hi!" He bounced. "Good morning!"
Cordelia looked appropriatly stunned. "You're...awake."
"Very," he replied cheerfully. "And you're not?"
She shrugged. "It's nothing. I'm fine." Brightening, she added, "So?"
He played dumb. "So...the sky looks less smog-filled than usual, huh?"
"Angel, you jerk!" She beat him with her trig notebook.
"Oh, right." He inhaled deeply. He's spent the previous night thinking and thinking and thinking a little bit more about this and, although the answer was simple, he wasn't sure he could actually make the words come out of his mouth.
"DoyouwanttogotothedancewithmeCordy?"
"Okay, maybe he could. Not exactly coherently, but the invitationwas there all the same.
Her face broke into a whide smile. "You don't ask girls out very often, do you?"
"I ask guys out even less," he quipped. "So do you still want to, or did I just make an ass out of myself?"
"Well, yeah you made an ass out of yourself." She was speaking through a fit of laughter.
Annoyance beat at him. "Well?"
Straightening, she said solemnly, "SureI'llgotothedancewithyouAngel."
She even kept a straight face. He shoved his hands into his pockets. "You're mean."
She looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, the opportunity was just there...okay, since it's tomorrow night, we'll have to work fast."
"Work on what?" Angel blankly looked down at himself.
She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled. "Hmm...we might want to lay off the gel...I'm not sure, we'll have to experiment. And, of course, we'll have to get you a tux."
'All these "we'll have to's" are going to kill me,' he thought nervously. Out loud, he said, "That sounds great. Can you let go of my hair now?"
A/N: Ok, I'm trying to work this along as fast as I can. MORE REVIEWS, PEOPLE! More reviews, more twisted story. *sweet smile* Tell 'em, Angel. Angel: Please, do it. Or she might do something drastic.
Angel: Yes. Very. Now get your hand out of my back pocket.
Me: *evil grin/pouts* Fine. But only because I know you belong with Cordy.
Chapter 3
By that evening, Angel knew she was different. He'd known her for twenty-four hours and, somehow, he felt like he knew her completely.
Saving a person's life could do wonders for your social life.
Sure, she was brighter and bouncier than he was usually comfortable with, and, yeah, she had that irritating self-centered streak that spawned many 'I'm the queen of you and you and you....' moments. But she was also sweet and beautiful and kind...to him, anyway. And she somehow made him feel...warmer.
At the Bronze that night, he had to force himself to remember all this. After all, he was *not* a social guy. And the Bronze was made for social people.
Tapping his fingers uneasily against the tabletop, Angel looked toward the front doors. Sure enough—
Cordelia walked in, laughing and talking with her usual group. He shifted, recognizing with sudden clarity the wrongness of him being there, in her territory. This was her world, not his.
Tearing his eyes from her, he plucked at the blue button-down he was wearing over black cargos and black shoes, feel insanely stupid.
'Maybe if I try really hard, I can still slip out of here.'
"Angel!" Her voice, the one that had been reverberating around in his head all day, sounded stunned, but happily so. He looked up, hoping to look nonchalent and not all deer-in-headlighty. From her expression, he guessed that was a no-go.
"What are you doing here?" She raised an eyebrow. He shrugged.
"Temporary loss of judgement?"
A giggled escaped her mouth even as the blonde at her side, Harmony, asked, "Who's the hottie?"
"This is Angel," Cordelia replied, taking his arm. He had no choice but to give a little wave.
Harmony's eyes lit up. "Oh, he's *perfect*. Cordy—"
"Do you want to dance?" Cordelia interuptted, ignoring her friend.
"Uh..." Dancing. Of course she would want to dance. Why the hell hadn't he thought of that? "Sure?"
"Great." Grasping his hand firmly, she tugged him into the squirming mass of teenages. He immeadiatly felt claustrophobic.
"Cordy, I—me with the dancing isn't exactly..."
"Relax," she soothed, draping her arms around his neck. "It's slow. I'm sure you won't strain yourself too badly." Leaning back, she looked up at him through inquisitive hazel eyes. "So, again I ask. What are you doing here?"
"Again I'll answer—I'm clearly insane." He glanced at the couple beside him. The girl looked perfectly content, oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend was gazing jealously at another couple several feet away.
"Why are you insane?"
"I hate crowded places," he mumbled, instinctivly tightening his hold on her waist as the jealous guy's eyes bored holes into the back of Cordelia's head.
"I never would've guessed." She snicked, fingers playing absently with the hari at the nape of his neck. He shivered and she frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Just, uh, chilly." He shrugged, unnerved by his own reaction. "In here?" She looked doubtful. "Angel, it must be ninety degrees in here." He didn't respond and she sighed. "Angel, are you scared of dancing?" "No!" A stubborn expression crossed his intense features. "Just uncomfortable, that's all." At her disbelieving look, he added, "Is that a crime?"
"If it's not, it should be," she retorted hotly. "You're seventeen, Angel. You should be outside your sketchbook, living it up."
It was his turn to sigh. "What do you want me to do?"
"It would be niuce is you asked me to the Spring Formal on Friday." Her gaze caught his
He licked his lips. "I...Formal? As in the school dance coming up?"
"Duh. Do you live on another planet or something?" Reaching up, she knocked on his head.
Angel tensed. She was serious; she really wanted him to ask her.
"Okay, I'll think about it." His eyes sparkled. She smiled slyly.
"Playing it that way, huh? Well, that's a mistake, big guy. 'Cause you are messing with the queen of games."
"Like Monopoly?" he teased, feeling himself relax. "Yahtzee, maybe?"
"Like mind-games, dating." She smirked. "And also Go Fish."
A laugh actually burst from his lips. "I'll be sure to challenge that sometime."
"After we go to the dance?" she asked hopefully.
"I'll think about it," he repeated as the song died down. He glanced at his watch. "I should go. Don't want Mom to worry."
Rolling her eyes, Cordelia disentangled herself from him. "Mama's boy."
"Daddy's girl," he shot back, grinning. She hit his arm.
"So I'll see you tomorrow," he added.
"With your answer," she emphazized, making her way back to her table.
"Don't walk home alone," he called back as an afterthought.
She nodded to show that she'd heard as she fell into conversation with some guy Angel didn't know. He scowled as he left, kicking at the ground in annoyance.
Was that jealousy slamming into his gut?
--
By the next morning, he had his decision. When she stepped onto school grounds, he fairly tackled her.
"Hi!" He bounced. "Good morning!"
Cordelia looked appropriatly stunned. "You're...awake."
"Very," he replied cheerfully. "And you're not?"
She shrugged. "It's nothing. I'm fine." Brightening, she added, "So?"
He played dumb. "So...the sky looks less smog-filled than usual, huh?"
"Angel, you jerk!" She beat him with her trig notebook.
"Oh, right." He inhaled deeply. He's spent the previous night thinking and thinking and thinking a little bit more about this and, although the answer was simple, he wasn't sure he could actually make the words come out of his mouth.
"DoyouwanttogotothedancewithmeCordy?"
"Okay, maybe he could. Not exactly coherently, but the invitationwas there all the same.
Her face broke into a whide smile. "You don't ask girls out very often, do you?"
"I ask guys out even less," he quipped. "So do you still want to, or did I just make an ass out of myself?"
"Well, yeah you made an ass out of yourself." She was speaking through a fit of laughter.
Annoyance beat at him. "Well?"
Straightening, she said solemnly, "SureI'llgotothedancewithyouAngel."
She even kept a straight face. He shoved his hands into his pockets. "You're mean."
She looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, the opportunity was just there...okay, since it's tomorrow night, we'll have to work fast."
"Work on what?" Angel blankly looked down at himself.
She grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled. "Hmm...we might want to lay off the gel...I'm not sure, we'll have to experiment. And, of course, we'll have to get you a tux."
'All these "we'll have to's" are going to kill me,' he thought nervously. Out loud, he said, "That sounds great. Can you let go of my hair now?"
A/N: Ok, I'm trying to work this along as fast as I can. MORE REVIEWS, PEOPLE! More reviews, more twisted story. *sweet smile* Tell 'em, Angel. Angel: Please, do it. Or she might do something drastic.