So, this is my silly story among all the depressing things. I guess the coffee just rather got to me. Instead of boring you with a crazy little disclaimer about Mutant Enemy and Joss Whedon, which you've already heard a thousand million times, I made up a cute little ditty.

There once was some coffee from Seattle,

That attracted the people like cattle,

It spread like that and covered the map,

And all the small cafés skedaddled.

Point being, I own neither Starbuck's, Inc., the characters of "Angel" or anything else. All I own is my TV, which is currently playing Breakfast at Tiffany's.

Enjoy!

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"All I'm saying is, we don't really need a...what was it?"

"An espresso machine," Cordelia said, a note of exasperation coming into her voice. "And yes we do! We get your blood for you!"

"Yeah, but I need the blood. You don't need the expressy thing," Angel said.

"Espresso! And we do. It wakes us up, um...we work better when we're awake!"

"As much as I hate to say it, Cordelia's right," Wesley said, not looking up from his book. "If we had espresso, we would be more alert." He glanced up finally, adjusting his glasses. "More ready to fight."

Angel ran his hand through his hair, heaving a sigh. "But...it's so expensive."

"Not that much. I mean, your jacket was more expensive," Cordy pointed out.

"My jacket was an investment," Angel said defensively. "Your coffee thingy? I don't think so."

"Oh, please," Cordy said. "You only bought the jacket because I recommended it. Now I'm recommending the espresso machine."

Angel flexed his fingers, looking ready to give in. Cordelia quickly considered her options. Cutesy? Never worked on Angel. Pissy? He'd laugh. Sexy? Oh, God. Words could not describe how humiliating that would be.

Pissy it was, then. A good belly-laugh was just what Angel needed, after all. And Wesley would never let her live it down if she played the come-hither card.

"Listen, buddy!" she snapped, shaking her finger in his face. He looked slightly surprised. "We. Need. Coffee. Strong coffee. Good coffee --- better than that plastic Wal-Mart refugee you call a coffeepot could ever produce. And I want it now. Any questions?"

He still looked shocked, his mouth open slightly. "...What brand do you recommend?"

Wes shook his head, muttering something that sounded akin to 'twit' underneath his breath. Her head held high, Cordy chose to ignore this comment, although the quiet snicker Angel let out indicated that he had heard it.

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Cordelia and Wes arrived at the Hyperion at different times. Wes was a six A.M. up and at 'em kind of guy. The Hyperion should have considered itself very blessed indeed if Ms. Chase should choose to saunter through the front lobby before three o'clock bearing shopping bags and a cup of coffee from the nearest Starbucks. This was one of life's unchanging, unvarying constants.

So imagine Angel's, and Wes's, and indeed the Hyperion itself's surprise when, just after 8 in the morning, Cordelia sailed through the doors, no shopping bags from Rodeo Drive attached to her person.

"Cordelia?" Wes said -- Angel had frozen, glass of blood halfway up to his lips. "Are you feeling... quite all right?"

Cordy gave him a 'Well, duh!' look. "Don't I look okay?"

"Exceptional," Wes parried. Realizing he was still staring, Angel shook himself out of it.

"Did your clock, um, get messed up or something? Because, um, Cordy, it's ---" Cordelia cut Angel off with a bright grin.

"Eight-fifteen. I know. I wanted to be here about the time Wes gets here, but that just didn't happen." She smiled again. "Baby steps, you know?"

"Uh...huh." Angel nodded. "Baby steps. Right. Baby-stepping all over the place. Gotcha."

"What Angel's trying to say is, 'Why any kind of steps?' What happened to four o'clock after shopping?" Wesley translated. "Frankly, I'm curious as well."

"I don't know." Cordelia grinned. "I've just had all this energy since last night. Seven or eight triples will do that to you."

"...Right." Wes stuck his hand on Cordelia's forehead. "I think it's possession."

"You guys!" She slapped his hand away. "It's not possession! It's energy. Caffeine. Starbuck's!"

The two males looked at each other, identical evil grins lighting up their faces.

"Possession," Angel agreed.

"I am not possessed!" Cordelia snapped.

"That's just the demon talking," Wes said. "The big, nasty demon that can only be killed by..."

"Expressie from your very own...er...thing! We had it put in your office this morning."

"How did you guys get it so fast?" Cordy asked. "I mean, you only agreed to it yesterday..."

"Well, um..." Angel looked down, scratching his head. "It...uh...fell off a truck?"

"You guys stole for me! That's so sweet... And at the same time, kinda creepy."

"We could take it back if you like," Wes told her.

"Oh, no. Not that creepy." She squealed in delight, running into her office and closing the door. The sound of a bolt lock sliding home was heard, and Cordelia's excited cries of "Yes! It works!" could be heard.

"After we got chased by thirteen security guards, I kind of expected a thank you," Angel said, his head cocked toward the door.

"Yes." Wesley rubbed at a sore spot on his jaw. "Those rent-a-cops know how to throw a punch."

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So, did you like it? It's meant to be silly. I hope I made you grin at least once. Tell me if I did and tell me if I didn't -- there's lots more stupidity ahead. Review! Critiques, constructive comments, and things like that are always adored --- along with the simple reviews of "I liked this!" Those make me specially happy.