We’re celebrating. Damn right we’re celebrating. We’re celebrating that Cordy finally came back. We’re celebrating that I’ve not lost everyone of my old family. Yet. We’re celebrating that we’re all alive and healthy. We’re celebrating alright. So many thing’s there really aren’t any words for it to explain what we’re celebrating.
We all settle around the table with a practiced ease as though we’ve been doing this for years. As if Cordelia really does come over here daily and had a meal with us. Chattering amicably about everything and nothing. Alicia trying to steal fortune cookies - though a stern look and another eyerol puts an end to that tact - Lindsey and Cordelia seemingly getting alone, and I can’t help but watch this whole scene.
Family, I think, and yet there’s a pang of regret at that thought. Family. I’ve had family before, but I lost them. I had to watch them get swallowed by the firm who also tried to swallow up my boyfriend. He got out of there, why can’t they? I quickly have to shake myself out of my morose mood before I ruin things. A quick glance toward Cordelia shows me she’s having a bit of trouble keeping her ‘allergies’ in check.
Alicia can’t seem to stop staring at Cordelia either, fighting not to ask questions with her mouthful, or steal the fortune cookies slash desert. Lindsey seems to roll with the punches as well, though he seems to be speechless currently.
“You’ve no idea what to say, don’t you?” I ask amused, giving him a look to match. He shrugs, giving me a sheepish look.
“How about it?” Alicia sighs, still holding up her glass. “Some of us aren’t like, y’know, a hang-out sign.”
“Right you are love,” I amend, patting her head much to her dismay. Ignoring her remark about her hair, I raise my own glass and look from Cordy, to Lindsey to Alicia. “To living.”
I smile at Lindsey when he says that. Best opportunity for celebration I've seen in a while. I guess that'd be right, what with everything that's been going on lately. Though I can't help but wonder if they'll still think that when I get Wes his memory back.
I have to do it. It's not like anyone else is gonna change anything, not while they work for Wolfram and Hart. They don't even know that there's anything to change, not with all their flashy cars and big brains and-- Yeah, I'm kinda bitter about that. Not the money - that ship has well and truly sailed. The selling out. The working for evil. I don't get how any of them could possibly think it was a good idea, though it figures that Wesley would see right through it even without holding a full deck of cards.
Lindsey tries to make a toast while Alicia's trying to steal the fortune cookies and I grin when he falters, looking to Wesley. We always did look to Wesley for stuff like this, oddly enough. Angel was okay at toasts but more often than not? He said something dumb. Or something that'd set Wes' allergies off.
“You’ve no idea what to say, don’t you?” Wes asks, shooting Lindsey an amused glance. I smile. It's not exactly a regular thing seeing lawyer boy speechless, but I'm not gonna turn down that opportunity.
“How about it? Some of us aren’t like, y’know, a hang-out sign.” Says Alicia, letting out a mass protest when Wes pats her head. The hair, Wes! It's all about the hair, I think when her other hand comes up to pat it down, her gaze going straight to mine. Is it okay? Is there a hair out of place? Poor kid is starved for a little female affection in this place so I nod and wink at her, before glancing at Wes as he makes his toast.
“To living,” he says and I realise that since I walked in, they've done nothing but make me comfortable, set me at ease, include me in this little picture of happiness.
"To family." I add, because for tonight, I can pretend.
Tomorrow, it'll all be different. There'll be pain and heartache and even if Wes doesn't hate me for the things I did before - for abandoning him and sleeping with Connor and killing Lilah - he'll hate me for ruining what he has here. Not with Lindsey - even from an outsiders point of view, that looks strong enough to survive. They love each other, any idiot could see that. But the rest of it. Coming here and talking to him as if everything were normal. Eating dinner, laughing with his girls... All too normal and tomorrow--
I take a sip of the champagne and swallow hard, taking the opportunity to steal a fortune cookie and slide it Alicia's way while I think Wes and Lindsey aren't looking. Apparently they were 'cause Wes gives me this stern look and I smile innocently while Alicia folds it into her napkin. "What?"
Wes comes to my rescue with minimum needling on the subject, and I don't miss the little glance exchanged between Cordelia and Alicia. This could work, I decide. This really and truly could work.
I try my best, and Wesley is nothing if not a devoted dad, but neither of us are exactly gurus when it comes to understanding the minds of little girls. I can think of more than a few miscommunications ("Lipstick. Not lipgloss. Jeez, Lindsey...") that could've been avoided by Cordelia's presence around here.
"To living," says Wes, raising his glass, and I'll sure as hell drink to that. It's a fine line between surviving and actually living, and it's so damn easy to get caught up in just keeping your head above water. In just staying alive. And that's no way to live, really.
"To family," Cordelia chimes in, and I nod happily. I've missed having a family.
Sipping the champagne and savouring the bubbles that explode against my lips, the strangest thing is running through my thoughts. Holland Manners, of all people, asked me a question once. Maybe it was the fact that I didn't have the slightest damn clue what he was talking about at the time, or maybe it was the guard holding a loaded gun standing behind him, but the answer that he gave me always stayed in my mind. He asked me if I believed in love.
"I'm not speaking romantically," he had clarified at my puzzled look. "I'm talking about that sharp, clear sense of self a man gains once he's truly found his place in the world."
And you know something? Right here, surrounded by friends and people who care about me, grinning into my champagne glass, I think I get that thing about love now.
We all settle around the table with a practiced ease as though we’ve been doing this for years. As if Cordelia really does come over here daily and had a meal with us. Chattering amicably about everything and nothing. Alicia trying to steal fortune cookies - though a stern look and another eyerol puts an end to that tact - Lindsey and Cordelia seemingly getting alone, and I can’t help but watch this whole scene.
Family, I think, and yet there’s a pang of regret at that thought. Family. I’ve had family before, but I lost them. I had to watch them get swallowed by the firm who also tried to swallow up my boyfriend. He got out of there, why can’t they? I quickly have to shake myself out of my morose mood before I ruin things. A quick glance toward Cordelia shows me she’s having a bit of trouble keeping her ‘allergies’ in check.
Alicia can’t seem to stop staring at Cordelia either, fighting not to ask questions with her mouthful, or steal the fortune cookies slash desert. Lindsey seems to roll with the punches as well, though he seems to be speechless currently.
“You’ve no idea what to say, don’t you?” I ask amused, giving him a look to match. He shrugs, giving me a sheepish look.
“How about it?” Alicia sighs, still holding up her glass. “Some of us aren’t like, y’know, a hang-out sign.”
“Right you are love,” I amend, patting her head much to her dismay. Ignoring her remark about her hair, I raise my own glass and look from Cordy, to Lindsey to Alicia. “To living.”
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I have to do it. It's not like anyone else is gonna change anything, not while they work for Wolfram and Hart. They don't even know that there's anything to change, not with all their flashy cars and big brains and-- Yeah, I'm kinda bitter about that. Not the money - that ship has well and truly sailed. The selling out. The working for evil. I don't get how any of them could possibly think it was a good idea, though it figures that Wesley would see right through it even without holding a full deck of cards.
Lindsey tries to make a toast while Alicia's trying to steal the fortune cookies and I grin when he falters, looking to Wesley. We always did look to Wesley for stuff like this, oddly enough. Angel was okay at toasts but more often than not? He said something dumb. Or something that'd set Wes' allergies off.
“You’ve no idea what to say, don’t you?” Wes asks, shooting Lindsey an amused glance. I smile. It's not exactly a regular thing seeing lawyer boy speechless, but I'm not gonna turn down that opportunity.
“How about it? Some of us aren’t like, y’know, a hang-out sign.” Says Alicia, letting out a mass protest when Wes pats her head. The hair, Wes! It's all about the hair, I think when her other hand comes up to pat it down, her gaze going straight to mine. Is it okay? Is there a hair out of place? Poor kid is starved for a little female affection in this place so I nod and wink at her, before glancing at Wes as he makes his toast.
“To living,” he says and I realise that since I walked in, they've done nothing but make me comfortable, set me at ease, include me in this little picture of happiness.
"To family." I add, because for tonight, I can pretend.
Tomorrow, it'll all be different. There'll be pain and heartache and even if Wes doesn't hate me for the things I did before - for abandoning him and sleeping with Connor and killing Lilah - he'll hate me for ruining what he has here. Not with Lindsey - even from an outsiders point of view, that looks strong enough to survive. They love each other, any idiot could see that. But the rest of it. Coming here and talking to him as if everything were normal. Eating dinner, laughing with his girls... All too normal and tomorrow--
I take a sip of the champagne and swallow hard, taking the opportunity to steal a fortune cookie and slide it Alicia's way while I think Wes and Lindsey aren't looking. Apparently they were 'cause Wes gives me this stern look and I smile innocently while Alicia folds it into her napkin. "What?"
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I try my best, and Wesley is nothing if not a devoted dad, but neither of us are exactly gurus when it comes to understanding the minds of little girls. I can think of more than a few miscommunications ("Lipstick. Not lipgloss. Jeez, Lindsey...") that could've been avoided by Cordelia's presence around here.
"To living," says Wes, raising his glass, and I'll sure as hell drink to that. It's a fine line between surviving and actually living, and it's so damn easy to get caught up in just keeping your head above water. In just staying alive. And that's no way to live, really.
"To family," Cordelia chimes in, and I nod happily. I've missed having a family.
Sipping the champagne and savouring the bubbles that explode against my lips, the strangest thing is running through my thoughts. Holland Manners, of all people, asked me a question once. Maybe it was the fact that I didn't have the slightest damn clue what he was talking about at the time, or maybe it was the guard holding a loaded gun standing behind him, but the answer that he gave me always stayed in my mind. He asked me if I believed in love.
"I'm not speaking romantically," he had clarified at my puzzled look. "I'm talking about that sharp, clear sense of self a man gains once he's truly found his place in the world."
And you know something? Right here, surrounded by friends and people who care about me, grinning into my champagne glass, I think I get that thing about love now.
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