The look of surprise on Lindsey's face makes me smile. "Yeah," I nod, "Kind of weird, really. I mean, last time I saw you was in Caritas. You were singing, remember?" Boy, did I remember that. Never figured the evil-harpy lawyer for having a set of pipes like *that*. "Three years later I'm in a coma and you're asking me to come out of it for a chat." Or okay, to save Wesley from missing me terribly, which, duh. Things really have changed around here
( ... )
I search my memory, trying to recall the night that she's talking about, not willing to admit my tendency to get a serious case of tunnel vision whenever Angel was around. Ah, that night. First time I played since Angel got scythe-happy on me when I was threatening... well, Cordelia. Ain't life funny like that.
Funnier still is my growing ease when it comes to the comfortable familiarity in her tone when she talks about Wesley. As well as we seem to work these days, he could sure as hell use a friend from the 'old days' who's not interested in beating him black and blue.
"You want me to help?" she asks, surprise evident in her voice. And okay, maybe I did come on a little strong, but we need all the help we can get, whether Wes is willing to admit that or not. I'm not going to dance around the issue when it comes to my new-found family
( ... )
“Goldilocks walked over to the…” My voice trailed off as I looked up and over to the small bundle in bed. Yup, I knew it. Poor Goldilocks is going to starve, Marilee was out like a light. No doubt too much excitement in to little time. She always was very susceptible to that, much like myself. But unlike her I feel as though I’ve drank far to much tea loaded with sugar and could go on all night. I’m surprised I’m not actually bouncing up and down. If I were to do that, I think both Cordelia and Lindsey will be looking at me strangely… before asking if I needed to see a doctor
( ... )
Cut off. Those words kind of piss me off a little. I know Angel, know the exact reason why he's pissed. He's probably a little sore that Wes didn't follow him into hell, a little sore that he seemed to find shacking up with Lindsey a better option - and not even close to getting over the fact that Wesley's a father now when circumstances and people playing us for all we were worth meant that he's not.
"I'm kinda glad you guys stayed away," I admit, wondering what the hell Lindsey was thinking sneaking into my room like that if Wolfram and Hart were that much against him. Same with Wes. I seem to remember Angel getting a lot pissy at the mere mention of his name.
"Sounds like a deal to me, he's waited this long to have you around again. I think we can be patient a little bit longer."I close my mouth abruptly at that. If I said anything it would have to be a lie and I don't want to do that - to Wes or Lindsey. I nod instead, smile a little, and find Alicia toddling over to me, trying to get a good look at my nails
( ... )
I go through the usual song and dance when I open the door for the delivery guy, trying to set a good example for Alicia. Step back, hold the money on this side of the threshold so he has to reach across, and whatever you do, don't say anything that could be taken as an invite. Good habits to get into, and ones that I probably should have learned about four years back before I started opening my home for Aurelius family reunions.
"Don't be silly," I assure Alicia after I've sent the delivery boy on his way. I nudge the door shut with my foot and head back to the table. "We both know your Dad would eat his pizza with a knife and fork if we let him. We're the normal ones
( ... )
When I walk into the room it seems as though I’m walking into a picture that has been going on for yeas, not in the last hour or so. As if Cordelia has been around sharing dinner with us frequently. Especially when she walks into the kitchen to get plates and the likes as if she knows… That makes me pause. It’s been so long since she was here that I forget that she *does* know the way around my place. She could probably find more in the kitchen then I can. And her growling stomach makes me feel more then a little guilty
( ... )
Wes - ever the gentleman - apologises for keeping me talking so long when he hears my stomach growl. I could kick myself for that. He has enough to feel guilty over and now he's worried that I'm hungry?
"Stop worrying, Dork Boy," I call back, "I'm fine!" Actually, I'm not that fine, but Wes doesn't need to know that. I'm standing looking at his refrigerator, at drawings the kids have done, report cards... And a photograph of me, him and Angel that makes me feel a little sick. That seems like a long time ago now. Too long, really, and not for the first time I'm wondering what actually happened to us.
I head back into the kitchen, arching an eyebrow when I notice Lindsey carrying a bottle of champagne. "We're celebrating?" Okay, I guess I could use a drink. As long as I don't have too much 'cause, y'know, painful renditions of 'We Are The Champions'? Not my forté.
Alicia pouts that there's only three glasses and I wonder if Wes'll bend on that one and give her a little sip when he shakes his head, “You’re not getting any
( ... )
"Best opportunity for celebration I've seen in awhile," I assure Cordelia.
The thing is, that dusty bottle could've sat up there until Doomsday if we waited until it felt like a safe time to celebrate. Carpe diem and all that. Seize the champagne. (Unless you're Alicia, in which case you're getting soda and a chance to put your imagination to work
( ... )
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
( ... )
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
( ... )
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
( ... )
The look of surprise on Lindsey's face makes me smile. "Yeah," I nod, "Kind of weird, really. I mean, last time I saw you was in Caritas. You were singing, remember?" Boy, did I remember that. Never figured the evil-harpy lawyer for having a set of pipes like *that*. "Three years later I'm in a coma and you're asking me to come out of it for a chat." Or okay, to save Wesley from missing me terribly, which, duh. Things really have changed around here ( ... )
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Funnier still is my growing ease when it comes to the comfortable familiarity in her tone when she talks about Wesley. As well as we seem to work these days, he could sure as hell use a friend from the 'old days' who's not interested in beating him black and blue.
"You want me to help?" she asks, surprise evident in her voice. And okay, maybe I did come on a little strong, but we need all the help we can get, whether Wes is willing to admit that or not. I'm not going to dance around the issue when it comes to my new-found family ( ... )
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"I'm kinda glad you guys stayed away," I admit, wondering what the hell Lindsey was thinking sneaking into my room like that if Wolfram and Hart were that much against him. Same with Wes. I seem to remember Angel getting a lot pissy at the mere mention of his name.
"Sounds like a deal to me, he's waited this long to have you around again. I think we can be patient a little bit longer."I close my mouth abruptly at that. If I said anything it would have to be a lie and I don't want to do that - to Wes or Lindsey. I nod instead, smile a little, and find Alicia toddling over to me, trying to get a good look at my nails ( ... )
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"Don't be silly," I assure Alicia after I've sent the delivery boy on his way. I nudge the door shut with my foot and head back to the table. "We both know your Dad would eat his pizza with a knife and fork if we let him. We're the normal ones ( ... )
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"Stop worrying, Dork Boy," I call back, "I'm fine!" Actually, I'm not that fine, but Wes doesn't need to know that. I'm standing looking at his refrigerator, at drawings the kids have done, report cards... And a photograph of me, him and Angel that makes me feel a little sick. That seems like a long time ago now. Too long, really, and not for the first time I'm wondering what actually happened to us.
I head back into the kitchen, arching an eyebrow when I notice Lindsey carrying a bottle of champagne. "We're celebrating?" Okay, I guess I could use a drink. As long as I don't have too much 'cause, y'know, painful renditions of 'We Are The Champions'? Not my forté.
Alicia pouts that there's only three glasses and I wonder if Wes'll bend on that one and give her a little sip when he shakes his head, “You’re not getting any ( ... )
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The thing is, that dusty bottle could've sat up there until Doomsday if we waited until it felt like a safe time to celebrate. Carpe diem and all that. Seize the champagne. (Unless you're Alicia, in which case you're getting soda and a chance to put your imagination to work ( ... )
Reply
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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 ( ... )
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