Fic: Cordy/Wes/Angel
One Double Wedding, Coming Right Up
Fandom: Angel the Series
Pairing: Wes/Cordelia/Angel
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Nada
Spoilers: None that I can think of
Word Count: 1596
Disclaimer: The Angel gang belongs to Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt, et al. I'm just fiddling with them, not for profit.
A/N: For the Week 2 prompt, Accidental Marriage. The rest of the participants fics can be found here.
Summary: Cordelia would prefer that what happens in Vegas doesn't have to stay in Vegas.
"Cordelia...." Wesley's voice was stretching her name out way too long for this to be good. Not to mention it was totally hurting her head. Hangovers were so not good for that sensitive under eye skin that was going to look like she was something related to a raccoon, she could just tell. Now if Wes would just be quiet and let her go back to sleep...
"Cordelia, is this your handwriting?" Wesley shoved a piece of paper under her nose and pointed at it with a feeble thwap. So Watcher Boy didn't handle his liquor as well as he said either, huh?
Okay, so that made her feel a little better. A little smug in fact. And why shouldn't she be smug? At least one of them had had the presence of mind to make sure they were all three on the marriage license.
"Uh, duh. Like I was gonna marry Angel and not you? Hello. Ugh, aspirin first, then you can whine at me." She waved a hand in Wes' face and squinted at the gaudy Vegas hotel room. Double ugh. Why couldn't Angel have at least sprung for a nice suite for their wedding night. "Not like Brooder has a social security number even," she said, wrinkling her nose, and pawing through her perfect Gucci luggage - oh, she loved that luggage set. She would've married it if that was possible -before she shook out a bottle of pills and swallowed several down. Old habit in case of vision. A girl's got to be prepared...even when she she's got demon bits to take care of those vision migraines now.
Wesley was still gaping at her. Apparently boy scouts weren't always so prepared. Do they have boy scouts in England? Are they called the same thing, she wondered as she dared to look in the mirror. She shrieked a little at the sight. Oh my god, so awful-
"Cordy, are you alright?" She had two trusty steeds behind her in an instant. Huh, neat trick.
"What? Of course, I'm not fine, you doofs, I've got bags for my bags, my hair looks like Elvira and Wes seems to have forgotten how to read."
She pushed her way back through Wes and Angel to get to her suitcase. This was going to need some serious damage control.
"Cordelia..." Wes was sounding whiny and exasperated now. Angel had better give him a blow job or something, she thought as she opened the suitcase again. Or maybe he needed some of that aspirin. "You can't just- We weren't even sober--- Even Angel was drunk," Angel was doing the nodding and crossing of arms. Totally agreeing, the wuss! Besides, tough guy act: not so effective when you're still naked from the night before.
"Oh, so what! It was just a silly thing. We had fun. It's Vegas, sheesh, who doesn’t get married in Vegas. We deserve a little fun, remember? That was the whole point of this trip?" she pointed out, trying to find her eye cream and concealer in her bag. Damn it, they must've fallen down somewhere... And moisturizer, she was going to need buckets of moisturizer...
"Yes, but- this is polygamy- It's- It's not legal!" Wes sputtered.
"Neither is necrophilia, but we do that, don't we?" Heh. Bull's Eye. Wes was turning a bright shade of killer tomato.
"Hey!" Angel finally threw in an indignant sputter.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "No heartbeat equals dead - not many brainwaves either - I don't think anyone's going to argue with me there, Angel."
"But Cordelia-I distinctly remember there only being two names on this when you were waving it in my face before I passed out." Cordelia looked over her shoulder in time to see the shadow flitting over Wes' face. Yeah, exactly why she'd done it. For a smart guy, Wes could sure be a dummy sometimes.
"So I added one more after the guy signed the license. No biggie. I was the one who wrote Angel's name on there anyway so it's not like it looks like it was forged or something. It's all my handwriting except the big honcho's signature. So what?" Not like they were going to stay married anyway. She knew it was going to get annulled as soon as the boys could muster it, so what was the harm, really? They could all be the Wyndam-Chases for a few days. One little happy family. For once.
She threw the case shut and made a frustrated noise. Where was that damn concealer!? "Well, what are you guys waiting for? They probably leave a complimentary form for annulments in every room's hospitality book thingy with all the people who get crazy and get married." She waved her hand and flopped back on the bed. "And stop staring at my boobs. If you don't want to put a ring on it, I'm withholding sex," she nodded firmly, staring at the ceiling and wondering if she could sneak out with sunglasses on and buy some new concealer while Angel and Wes were figuring out the whole annulment thing.
Thing was, she hadn't even really been that drunk. Too many calories. Who else was she going to marry? There wasn't anybody else. There wasn't going to be anyone else either. She loved these two big dorks and that wasn't likely to change. Might as well try to get them to make an honest woman of her. And sheesh, you'd think she'd committed treason trying to make them all happy. Because hey, none of them were going to be happy if it wasn't all three of them. That she was positive about. Men. Like they'd know a good thing when they saw it, even if they were ancient vampires and walking research books.
Oh, well, she was damn well going to make the most of her time as a Wyndam-Chase even if the guys didn't want to. Just as soon as she showered and found that concealer.
- - -
The marriage was annulled, Los Angeles was back under her Prada boots, and damn it if she'd gotten stuck with the laundry duty post-vacation. Okay, so Wes and Gunn were probably more useful for helping Angel pummel things, but that didn't mean she should get stuck with the laundry! Half of it wasn't even hers! They didn't want to marry her, but they'd make her do all the wifely things like laundry and screwing. Men. Well, not that she minded that second part too much...
She'd tossed everything in the machine like usual - except Wes' pants; the boy was constantly leaving little herbs and notes and-a ton of other crap that did weird things to her clothes, namely turning them invisible that one time. Well, okay, that had been kind of a fun surprise for the boys. Fully clothed, but she totally looked naked! Ha. She could've swam in that drool.
So anyway, digging through pockets. How could a guy possibly have so many pockets? She thought Angel had all the pants with the cargo pockets. Apparently Wes could be taught a thing or two about style. Oh, mother load in this one. She fished out the jumble of papers, curiously unfolding-it totally didn't count as snooping since they'd asked her to do the damn laundry! Fair game!
She unfolded the wrinkly mess in the quiet of the basement, scanning the top paper... What the? Wes had a copy of their marriage license? She scanned it again and yup, it was absolutely the same one, three partners and everything. Huh. Souvenir? Weird. Just like Watcher Boy. Most people bought postcards, hello.
She tossed the last of Wes' pants in, turned the thing on and waited while the sound of water rushed through the room. Well, in the washer. It was kind of soothing. A little thing that reminded her of the beach... Okay, so she didn't really mind doing the laundry all that much.
Plodding upstairs, she rubbed her head reflexively. Funny, no more headaches from the visions, but she still felt like she should be lying flat out on a bed asleep sometimes. Shaking her head at herself, she decided the good Chinese food was in order. The guys would be starving when they got back anyway. She was just about to push the speed dial for China Garden Palace when she noticed Angel's wallet sitting on the counter. Okay, well, no surprise Mr. Cheap-o left his wallet sitting around. The man would lose anything expensive if it wasn't attached to his body. Cell phones, pagers, you name it. Cordelia had this theory that Angel thought if he didn't use the cell then they wouldn't have to pay for it. Except for them having unlimited minutes and all. You could drag the vampire out of the stone age, but you could never really get that stone age mindset out of the vampire.
She thumbed through the wallet idly, thinking Angel would be happy to pay for her Chinese - not, but he wasn't here so he could be a gentleman and do it anyway - and noticing once again, weird papers crammed in one of the hidden pockets. She pulled out the secret papers and-More weird: same copy... same names... same marriage license...
She smiled like a loon as she picked up the phone. Oh, they were so going back to Vegas the next chance they got! Jesus frickin' Christopher she was going to be marrying the mushiest, sappiest, dorkiest men on the planet... She knew they were keepers. They just took a little longer to realize that.
Fandom: Angel the Series
Pairing: Wes/Cordelia/Angel
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Nada
Spoilers: None that I can think of
Word Count: 1596
Disclaimer: The Angel gang belongs to Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt, et al. I'm just fiddling with them, not for profit.
A/N: For the Week 2 prompt, Accidental Marriage. The rest of the participants fics can be found here.
Summary: Cordelia would prefer that what happens in Vegas doesn't have to stay in Vegas.
"Cordelia...." Wesley's voice was stretching her name out way too long for this to be good. Not to mention it was totally hurting her head. Hangovers were so not good for that sensitive under eye skin that was going to look like she was something related to a raccoon, she could just tell. Now if Wes would just be quiet and let her go back to sleep...
"Cordelia, is this your handwriting?" Wesley shoved a piece of paper under her nose and pointed at it with a feeble thwap. So Watcher Boy didn't handle his liquor as well as he said either, huh?
Okay, so that made her feel a little better. A little smug in fact. And why shouldn't she be smug? At least one of them had had the presence of mind to make sure they were all three on the marriage license.
"Uh, duh. Like I was gonna marry Angel and not you? Hello. Ugh, aspirin first, then you can whine at me." She waved a hand in Wes' face and squinted at the gaudy Vegas hotel room. Double ugh. Why couldn't Angel have at least sprung for a nice suite for their wedding night. "Not like Brooder has a social security number even," she said, wrinkling her nose, and pawing through her perfect Gucci luggage - oh, she loved that luggage set. She would've married it if that was possible -before she shook out a bottle of pills and swallowed several down. Old habit in case of vision. A girl's got to be prepared...even when she she's got demon bits to take care of those vision migraines now.
Wesley was still gaping at her. Apparently boy scouts weren't always so prepared. Do they have boy scouts in England? Are they called the same thing, she wondered as she dared to look in the mirror. She shrieked a little at the sight. Oh my god, so awful-
"Cordy, are you alright?" She had two trusty steeds behind her in an instant. Huh, neat trick.
"What? Of course, I'm not fine, you doofs, I've got bags for my bags, my hair looks like Elvira and Wes seems to have forgotten how to read."
She pushed her way back through Wes and Angel to get to her suitcase. This was going to need some serious damage control.
"Cordelia..." Wes was sounding whiny and exasperated now. Angel had better give him a blow job or something, she thought as she opened the suitcase again. Or maybe he needed some of that aspirin. "You can't just- We weren't even sober--- Even Angel was drunk," Angel was doing the nodding and crossing of arms. Totally agreeing, the wuss! Besides, tough guy act: not so effective when you're still naked from the night before.
"Oh, so what! It was just a silly thing. We had fun. It's Vegas, sheesh, who doesn’t get married in Vegas. We deserve a little fun, remember? That was the whole point of this trip?" she pointed out, trying to find her eye cream and concealer in her bag. Damn it, they must've fallen down somewhere... And moisturizer, she was going to need buckets of moisturizer...
"Yes, but- this is polygamy- It's- It's not legal!" Wes sputtered.
"Neither is necrophilia, but we do that, don't we?" Heh. Bull's Eye. Wes was turning a bright shade of killer tomato.
"Hey!" Angel finally threw in an indignant sputter.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "No heartbeat equals dead - not many brainwaves either - I don't think anyone's going to argue with me there, Angel."
"But Cordelia-I distinctly remember there only being two names on this when you were waving it in my face before I passed out." Cordelia looked over her shoulder in time to see the shadow flitting over Wes' face. Yeah, exactly why she'd done it. For a smart guy, Wes could sure be a dummy sometimes.
"So I added one more after the guy signed the license. No biggie. I was the one who wrote Angel's name on there anyway so it's not like it looks like it was forged or something. It's all my handwriting except the big honcho's signature. So what?" Not like they were going to stay married anyway. She knew it was going to get annulled as soon as the boys could muster it, so what was the harm, really? They could all be the Wyndam-Chases for a few days. One little happy family. For once.
She threw the case shut and made a frustrated noise. Where was that damn concealer!? "Well, what are you guys waiting for? They probably leave a complimentary form for annulments in every room's hospitality book thingy with all the people who get crazy and get married." She waved her hand and flopped back on the bed. "And stop staring at my boobs. If you don't want to put a ring on it, I'm withholding sex," she nodded firmly, staring at the ceiling and wondering if she could sneak out with sunglasses on and buy some new concealer while Angel and Wes were figuring out the whole annulment thing.
Thing was, she hadn't even really been that drunk. Too many calories. Who else was she going to marry? There wasn't anybody else. There wasn't going to be anyone else either. She loved these two big dorks and that wasn't likely to change. Might as well try to get them to make an honest woman of her. And sheesh, you'd think she'd committed treason trying to make them all happy. Because hey, none of them were going to be happy if it wasn't all three of them. That she was positive about. Men. Like they'd know a good thing when they saw it, even if they were ancient vampires and walking research books.
Oh, well, she was damn well going to make the most of her time as a Wyndam-Chase even if the guys didn't want to. Just as soon as she showered and found that concealer.
- - -
The marriage was annulled, Los Angeles was back under her Prada boots, and damn it if she'd gotten stuck with the laundry duty post-vacation. Okay, so Wes and Gunn were probably more useful for helping Angel pummel things, but that didn't mean she should get stuck with the laundry! Half of it wasn't even hers! They didn't want to marry her, but they'd make her do all the wifely things like laundry and screwing. Men. Well, not that she minded that second part too much...
She'd tossed everything in the machine like usual - except Wes' pants; the boy was constantly leaving little herbs and notes and-a ton of other crap that did weird things to her clothes, namely turning them invisible that one time. Well, okay, that had been kind of a fun surprise for the boys. Fully clothed, but she totally looked naked! Ha. She could've swam in that drool.
So anyway, digging through pockets. How could a guy possibly have so many pockets? She thought Angel had all the pants with the cargo pockets. Apparently Wes could be taught a thing or two about style. Oh, mother load in this one. She fished out the jumble of papers, curiously unfolding-it totally didn't count as snooping since they'd asked her to do the damn laundry! Fair game!
She unfolded the wrinkly mess in the quiet of the basement, scanning the top paper... What the? Wes had a copy of their marriage license? She scanned it again and yup, it was absolutely the same one, three partners and everything. Huh. Souvenir? Weird. Just like Watcher Boy. Most people bought postcards, hello.
She tossed the last of Wes' pants in, turned the thing on and waited while the sound of water rushed through the room. Well, in the washer. It was kind of soothing. A little thing that reminded her of the beach... Okay, so she didn't really mind doing the laundry all that much.
Plodding upstairs, she rubbed her head reflexively. Funny, no more headaches from the visions, but she still felt like she should be lying flat out on a bed asleep sometimes. Shaking her head at herself, she decided the good Chinese food was in order. The guys would be starving when they got back anyway. She was just about to push the speed dial for China Garden Palace when she noticed Angel's wallet sitting on the counter. Okay, well, no surprise Mr. Cheap-o left his wallet sitting around. The man would lose anything expensive if it wasn't attached to his body. Cell phones, pagers, you name it. Cordelia had this theory that Angel thought if he didn't use the cell then they wouldn't have to pay for it. Except for them having unlimited minutes and all. You could drag the vampire out of the stone age, but you could never really get that stone age mindset out of the vampire.
She thumbed through the wallet idly, thinking Angel would be happy to pay for her Chinese - not, but he wasn't here so he could be a gentleman and do it anyway - and noticing once again, weird papers crammed in one of the hidden pockets. She pulled out the secret papers and-More weird: same copy... same names... same marriage license...
She smiled like a loon as she picked up the phone. Oh, they were so going back to Vegas the next chance they got! Jesus frickin' Christopher she was going to be marrying the mushiest, sappiest, dorkiest men on the planet... She knew they were keepers. They just took a little longer to realize that.