Disclaimer: Not my characters or universe.
Chapter 5
Cordelia held the door open as Fred struggled to maneuver the loaded tray through the doorway. She had genuinely missed Fred, but could the woman's timing have been any worse? Angel had been on the verge of admitting that there was something between them, and not just the obviously hard, throbbing something, and then suddenly—oh, my god, what was that amazing smell? She spotted a pizza box and a Bud Light on the tray along with Angel's blood, and decided all was forgiven.
"Gosh, it's really dark in here," Fred said in a hushed tone. "Well, I guess with Angel's enhanced vision and all and your built-in nightlight, it's no big deal to you guys, but I'd really hate to spill this because we all know how hard it is to get blood out of the carpet, don't we?"
"Boy, do we ever," Cordelia agreed as she helped Fred clear a place on Angel's desk for the tray. She was grateful for the dim lighting. With luck, Fred would never notice the red flush Cordy felt creeping across her face and chest.
"How's he doing?" Fred whispered with a quick glance at the bathroom.
"Okay, I guess. If anyone could handle being in super-solitary confinement for 3 months, he's the guy."
Fred seemed unconvinced. "He may seem okay, but are you sure you don't want someone else here? I mean, you have to sleep sometime. You do still sleep, don't you?"
"It's okay, Fred. Really." Cordy forced herself to sound more confident than she really felt, but she couldn't think of any other way to get Fred out the door. "He's going to be just fine, but it's going to take some time. We'll let you know if we need anything else." Cordelia thanked her and ushered her out the door before she could ask any more questions that Cordelia was in no mood to answer.
She grabbed a slice of pizza in one hand and one of the glasses in the other and took them into the bathroom. Angel all but grabbed the blood from her and gulped it down quickly, the rim of the glass chattering against his teeth. His fingers were still trembling as he refilled the glass from the tap. The blood broke down into watery swirls as it was diluted. Cordelia bit into her pizza with relish—mmmm, tandoori chicken—as he drained the glass of bloody water. Or watery blood. Whatever. And how much did it say about the total weirdness of life as she knew it that watching him didn't even come close to putting a dent in her appetite?
"There's more, Angel," she said around a mouthful of pizza. "You want it?"
He nodded, but went to get it himself, thoughtfully drinking most it while he was still out of her sight. He filled the second glass with water too, drank about half of it, and dumped the rest down the sink. As he set the glass down, he noticed the toothpaste on the counter and reached for it like a man possessed.
His fingers fumbled with the cap, but before she could offer some help, he stuck it in his mouth and ripped it off with a quick twist of his head. He squeezed the contents of the tube directly into his mouth and closed his eyes in sheer bliss. "Oh, man, that's good," he mumbled as he groped for his toothbrush. Over the course of the next five minutes, she finished her dinner as he attacked three month's worth of plaque. When he was done, he gifted her with a broad, beautiful smile. "Better?"
He had no idea. How long had it been since she'd seen him smile like that? It was amazing what a little Colgate could do for a person. Er, vampire. "All kinds of better," she answered, "but you missed a spot, right here." She reached for a stray fleck of foam at the corner of his mouth and wiped it away with her thumb.
Angel quickly captured her hand and held onto it firmly, but gently. He studiously avoided looking directly at her face as he said, "Look, about in there, earlier, I'm sorry. I mean if Fred hadn't come, I mean, look, you can get Groo to kick my ass for that later, not that you ever needed anyone to do that for you."
He was really kind of cute when he babbled, but if anyone ever needed rescuing, he needed it now, and badly. "Angel, stop. Groo's long gone, and if I thought you needed a good ass-kicking, I'd be more than happy to handle it myself."
"Of course you would. I just—". He stopped abruptly as he registered what she'd said. "He's gone? What happened, Cordy?"
"He left. Right before I called you that night."
"Oh, I get it now." He looked disappointed. "You wanted to talk to me that night because you needed a shoulder to cry on."
Maybe now was as good a time as any to try to figure out where they stood. "Isn't that what a guy friend is supposed to provide in the case of a breakup? I mean, that and offer vague promises to hunt down and beat the crap out of the ex-boyfriend?"
He seemed to struggle for a moment before producing another small smile. "I'm a little too late for the whole hunting down and beating up thing, but I've still got a shoulder if you need it."
"And your shoulders are terrific, Angel, even if they're on the grungy side right now, but that really wasn't what I was looking for. I called because I wanted to tell you that things were over between Groo and I, and I wanted to tell you why."
"Oh. So, uh, do you still want to tell me that?"
"Yes, as soon as you're ready to hear it."
He shrugged. "Now is good."
"Later is better," she laughed. "First, you go directly to the shower, do not pass GO, do not collect $200." She gestured grandly at the shiny new fixture he'd had installed after the decrepit old hotel bathtub had been ripped out. It was a fairly ordinary shower stall; glass and chrome, approximately four feet square and eight high.
Angel's body swayed alarmingly as he looked at it. He grabbed desperately at the vanity and one of the glasses shattered as he knocked it into the sink.
"I don't think I can, Cordelia." His voice was panicky. "Not yet, anyway."
"Oh my God, I didn't think." She wrapped an arm around his waist and he leaned hard against her. "It's just a big box, isn't it?" It was stupid of her to not realize what she was asking of him. "What if we leave the door open and put down some towels to catch the spray. Would that help?"
"Maybe." He seemed to calm a little as he thought about the idea. "I'll try."
He seemed steadier now, so Cordelia risked leaving him for a few seconds. She grabbed a stack of towels from the linen closet and threw two of them to the floor in front of the shower before turning the taps on to a comfortably warm temperature.
"Okay then. Do you need any help getting undressed?"
"I think I got it." He looked at her pointedly, so she turned her back as he started to undress. She couldn't resist peeking just a little, though. It had been so long since she'd seen him, and she wanted to fill her eyes with him, even if he was a little on the skinny side still.
He got his socks and shoes off with no problems, but he was having a lot of trouble with the button on his pants. Just as she was about to turn around and offer her help, he swore softly under his breath and simply tore it off. With his back still turned to her, he finished stripping and walked into the shower. A moment later, she heard his fingernails scrabbling against the tile walls. Deciding that modesty was stupid at this point, she turned to help him and found him clinging like a drowning man to the wall-mounted soap dish.
"Angel—" she started.
"It's okay. It's fine." He glanced at her for just a second before snatching up the bar of soap and rubbing it furiously over his chest. As he reached toward his back, the bar slipped from his grasp and skidded across the floor. He bent to retrieve it and managed to pick it up on the third attempt. "See?" he said with his back still turned toward her. "It's okay. I can do this." As he finished speaking, the soap squirted out of his hands again.
It was too much for her. She pulled her blouse out of her pants and started unbuttoning it. A few seconds later, all her clothes were lying in a heap next to his, and she stepped into the cabinet and put a hand on his shoulder. "Scoot over, already."
He flinched at her touch, but he didn't turn around. "Cordelia, you shouldn't be in here."
"I got tired of hearing you drop the soap. You don't want me here, tell me to leave."
He snorted softly. "When did you start doing what you were told?"
"Touché," she laughed. "Now hold still." She was surprised when he actually followed her instructions. She grabbed the bottle of shampoo and squirted some into her hand before attacking his matted hair with a vengeance. Even with him angling his head a little, she had to tiptoe in order to scrub his scalp thoroughly. Lather, rinse, repeat. After the third go-round, his hair actually felt pretty clean, so she turned her attention to the rest of him.
Cordy stepped out of the shower just long enough to grab a washcloth before lathering it up and attacking his back with it. She took her time, using wet, slippery fingers to trace the lines of his tattoo. She'd seen it often enough when she was bandaging up his occasional injuries, but the flickering candlelight blurred the lines and made them less of a work of art and more of a natural extension of his body. After so many weeks (months?) without any human companionship, she found herself lost in reverie as she studied both the artwork and its canvas: Angel's broad shoulders and sculpted back and spine. When she was finally done admiring him, she reached her arms around him to wash his chest and belly. As she started inching lower, though, his hand abruptly covered hers and held it for a few long seconds.
When he finally spoke, his voice was strained. "I, uh, I think I got it from here."
"I'll leave you to it, then." She got out of the shower and toweled off before grabbing Angel's robe. It was made of black silk and was totally comfortable, even if she did have to roll the sleeves up some.
She went back to the bedroom and dug through his dresser until she found the boxers she'd gotten for Angel as a Halloween gift the previous year. They were black cotton covered with little glow-in-the-dark bats. As she carried them into the bathroom, she found him leaving the shower cabinet with a towel wrapped around his waist.
"Here." She tossed him the shorts.
He caught them handily but refused to meet her eyes, focusing instead on an area about a foot below her face.
"What's the matter, Angel? Bat got your tongue?"
"No," he finally raised his eyes and smiled, "I'm just glad that Gunn didn't get the short straw."
She looked down to find the front of her borrowed robe gaping open a few inches. "Why is it that even undead guys are pervs?" she asked aloud as she pulled the fabric together and cinched the belt tight.
"A man would have to be blind, gay and dead to not notice you, Cordelia," he said with a gleam in his eye, "Anyway, it serves you right for swiping my robe."
She grinned at the compliment. A little male appreciation went a long way, and she sure as hell hadn't gotten any while she'd been away. "I'll bet you never looked this good wearing it."
"That's one bet you'd win." He stooped to put on his shorts and she grabbed his discarded clothes and carried them back to the bedroom. She stuffed them into a trash bag along with the now less-than-fresh bedspread and threw the mess out into the hall. She made the bed up with a clean bedspread from the linen closet, and then tried to figure out what to do about sleeping arrangements.
He obviously couldn't be left alone at any time during the night, and she wasn't about to try sleeping on a chair or on the floor. After the time he'd had, the floor would probably be the lap of luxury for him, but he deserved to sleep in his own bed. He'd just have to deal with having company, at least for tonight. She pulled the sheets down and plumped the pillows before climbing in and stretching out wearily. The food, beer, and blood loss were combining to make her a little woozy.
When he came back out of the bathroom, he stretched out next to her, and they stared at each other silently for a few minutes. He was still thin, but he had filled out a lot in just the past hour. Most of the punctures on his arms had closed, but one of his wrists was still a mess. She opened the nightstand drawer. Sure enough, the first aid kid was still there. She pulled out some tape, ointment, and a roll of gauze and got to work. She had just cut a strip of gauze from the roll when she noticed a shiny pink line next to one of his ribs.
"This one's new, isn't it?"
He looked down and his brow furrowed. "Oh. That's where Connor stabbed me."
"Stabbed you?" She swallowed hard. "He didn't mention that part."
"No?" His voice took on a hard, dangerous edge. "How about the taser, then? Did he mention that?"
"A knife and a taser? What else did the little punk do to you?" His eyes flashed with anger, and she thought again about just how much Connor's betrayal must have hurt him. "Forget it, Angel. I'm in a position to put some serious hurt on him now, so I'm not sure I really want to know."
"I forgive him, Cordy. But I don't trust him, and you shouldn't either."
"I don't, Angel, not anymore. And it breaks my heart. Do you remember the last time we laid together on your bed like this?"
"Yeah," he answered sadly, "I remember. I had to be really careful that night."
"Why was that?"
"You, me, Connor—we were almost like a real family then. It made me happy—happier than I've been in a long time."
She finished bandaging his wrist, put the first aid kit back in the nightstand drawer, and slammed the drawer shut violently before flopping down on the mattress.
He reached to touch her hair tentatively. "What's wrong, Cordy?"
"I was just thinking that I'm not really cut out for all this Florence Henderson stuff."
"You mean Florence Nightingale."
"No, dumbass, I mean Florence Henderson. Sure, it was just a stupid TV show—totally outdated and dorky and if you ever tell anyone about this I'll stake you myself—but I don't think any of the Brady Bunch ever tortured and starved their dad as teens."
His brow furrowed for a moment before he shrugged and went on. "All I know is that he couldn't have asked for a better mother, Cordelia. What happened to him wasn't your fault. I wish I could say it was Wesley's, but, it wasn't, no matter how much a part of me still wants to believe that. But Holtz is dead now, and there's no one left to blame except me."
There was more than enough blame to go around, and pointing fingers at each other, or at themselves, wasn't exactly going to help. "Angel—"
"If Holtz was a monster, it's because I made him one. I destroyed his family, so he destroyed mine. It's got a certain kind of symmetry that only your bosses can fully understand."
"But Connor—"
He put a finger to her lips and she fought down the urge to kiss it. "I don't want to talk about him anymore. Tomorrow is soon enough." He pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. "You smell good."
She let herself enjoy his touch for a few seconds before turning to face him and pretending to eye him suspiciously. "Oh yeah? What exactly are we talking about here, the Chanel kind of good, or the O negative kind of good, 'cause inquiring minds want to know."
"Don't worry. You smell like you, and me, mixed together, and I like it. I could eat, but I'm not really hungry yet."
"Okay. But if I start smelling like a happy meal, you'll let me know, right?"
"You got it." He planted a soft kiss on her temple and she relaxed even more against his body until he asked, "Am I ready to hear about what happened with Groo now?"
She pulled herself gently from his arms to sit back upright. Groo was just the latest in a long line of failed relationships, and she really didn't want to have to rehash the past, but Angel needed to know the truth. "Like I said, he left and I let him, because that's what was best for both of us. He realized before I did that he wasn't what I was really looking for in a man, not anymore. I spent most of my life waiting for Prince Charming to come and sweep me off my feet, and you know what?"
Angel raised his eyebrows expectantly.
"Just about the time that he finally showed up, I realized that I'm not a princess anymore. And I don't want to be a princess."
"Then what do you want to be?" he asked cautiously.
"I want to be what I was when I was with you—seer, champion, whatever you want to call it. I want to keep fighting the good fight." She paused to take a deep breath and chose her next words very carefully. "And I want to do it with you. I thought I could do it on my own, and I thought you would be fine without me. I was wrong on both counts, Angel, and I hope you can forgive me."
His eyes were filled with so much warmth and trust that, just for a second, she forgot all about the demon lurking somewhere behind them. "There isn't anything to forgive," he said softly. "But where do we go from here?"
"That depends."
"Depends on what?"
"On how you feel about me." It took him a second, but he remembered.
"That was what you said on the phone that night." He took her hand in his. "You said you thought you had good news, but it depended on how I felt about you."
"And how do you feel, Angel?"
His eyes glowed and he hesitated for just a second before taking her arm gently and pulling her back down to lay on the bed next to him. He lowered his face to hers and his kiss was soft, apologetic, a question that she answered by running her fingers through his hair and opening her mouth to him. He kissed her harder then, his lips and tongue taking her breath away. He left her just as abruptly with nothing but a lingering taste of mint in her mouth and a deep rush of heat low in her belly.
His voice was rough with emotion. "I feel like it's a damn good thing that I'm in no condition to follow up on that. Good night, Cordy." And with that, he turned his back on her and went to sleep.
It was a long time before she could follow.
End of Chapter 5