Disclaimer: The author claims no ownership of any recognizable feature in this story, and relinquishes all but the original aspects to their rightful owners. No financial profit is made, and no copyright infringement is intended. The author asks that her audience be courteous and respect her creative authority.

Thanks go out to cmol8806. She's officially an Angel/Cordy shipper, now.:D

Cordelia looked through the windows into Angel's inner office, and smiled. She knew that he would end up brooding about something, especially given the difficult situation their last case had put him in. Cordelia had assumed that the vampire was beginning to become Broody Boy, as she dubbed him (especially in times like this), but then he smiled. He actually smiled.

He's got a great smile. He ought to do that more often.

Cordelia knew she could stand here and not get caught, so long as Wesley didn't come up behind her and ruin the moment by talking. She quite enjoyed studying her boss - not many girls can say they work for a total hottie..and Cordelia had absolutely no problem admitting (to herself, and only herself) that he was indeed a hottie. She remembered some of the first words that came to mind when she first saw him up close:

Hello, Salty Goodness.

How true it still is.

Brought back to the present by the front door opening, Cordelia knew Wesley had stepped in. She turned around and looked at him for a brief second, made a comment on his Watcher-esque wardrobe, warned him to leave the light off, and turned back to the dark window in front of her. If she stood still, she believed that even with his vampy senses, Angel would not be able to see her very well, seeing as she had darkened the room she was in, to further ease her spying.

Wesley walked up behind her, careful not to trip on anything, and whispered, "Why are you staring into Angel's office window?"

"Geez, Wesley, could you whisper a bit louder? I don't think the people two blocks over heard you," she said. "I'm spying on Angel. He's supposed to be brooding, but he's smiling. Smiling is not what the vampire does when brooding. He's not brooding."

Throughout the exchange, Cordelia didn't turn her head. She kept her eyes focused on the face she could barely make out from the light outside the front office window, and saw his smile widen. Unnerved, she could take it no longer.

Opening the door, she marched in and demanded, "Why are you smiling, Mr. I'm-supposed-to-be-Broody-Boy?" Now that she was in the room, Cordelia saw no reason to continue to whisper.

Angel looked up at her, seemingly jolted from his...musings, since he wasn't technically brooding...and let the smile fall from his face, a seemingly innocent look upon his features.

Anticipating his denial, Cordelia cut Angel off before he could speak and said, "You weren't brooding. I can tell when you're brooding, and you were not brooding. What's the deal?"

"Cordelia," Angel tried, without luck of stopping her.

"You always brood! Did you get a supply of bad blood? Are you getting some sort of weird vampire sickness?"

"Cordelia," Angel tried again.

"Are you going to die? Will I be out of a job? I realize that someday soon I will, indeed, become a star, but until then, I have bills to pay, and you're the one paying them, buster, so if you think that you're allowed to die you've got another thing coming! It's not going to happen if I have anything to say about it..."

"CORDY!"

During her increasingly panicked rant, Cordelia noticed neither of her boys coming to stand in front of her, Angel finally grabbing her by the shoulders and cutting her off, causing a gasp to break free from her lips, having gone on without many substantial breaths.

"No, I wasn't brooding. I was thinking and remembering some things. My blood supply is just fine. No, I have not contracted some weird vampire sickness, nor am I aware of any in existence. Yes, your job is safe, and I am not going to die, so stop worrying, okay?"

Cordelia took several deep breaths, and finally realized how close she was to the vampire. A closeness, in fact, that would have wigged her out not two years ago, while she was still in high school. What was stranger, to her at least, was that she found she didn't mind the fact. Of course, that didn't mean that she had to let it be a known fact...

Ripping herself away from Angel's hands, Cordelia began pacing. She knew that if she said something about what Angel was 'thinking and remembering,' she'll never ever know. She also knew that there was a slight (slight meaning absolute) chance that Angel will never offer up that information willingly...

Best to let him think I've forgotten it...

Calling upon her mega-watt smile, sure to dazzle any specimen of the opposite sex, Cordelia nodded once, turned around, and went back into the office proper, intending to finish her filing before she left for her apartment and Dennis. How the ghost always knew just how hot to make her bubble baths, she would never know, but she certainly wouldn't complain about it tonight. Only a day after saving Angel from the demon fighting ring, with only an hour's nap, her muscles were still singing (more like shouting) their protests to being in use for so long. A bubble bath was just what she needed right now.

Cordelia noticed the men following her into the front office a few minutes later, Wesley to clamor on about whatever new information he had acquired about whatever new big bad they would need to fight, and Angel to listen and think. Pausing in her filing for just a moment, Cordelia knew that, in that moment, they became a family. Then, a thought struck her, and brought a faint smile to her lips.

Did Angel call me Cordy?

A/N: A chapter in CPOV, as promised. I want to apologize for taking so long to update. I know a month is a long time, and I hate it when stories aren't updated either, but I don't want to bother you with excuses. All I ask is that you be patient for the next part of the story, as well.

Yes, the next part. I'm labeling this piece as 'Complete,' but I plan on making a companion piece to this in Wesley's POV. :) I'm excited for it.

I'd like to thank everyone for reading this, and I'd like to invite you to take a minute (but probably less) to leave a comment. It is every author's hope to write to the liking of the audience, but how can any of us hope to know what our audience likes if we are not told by the audience themselves? Therefore audience (whomever you may be), I would love to hear your thoughts.