FIC: Refulgence
Posted on Valentine's Day at Stranger Things, for Lysa, who wanted: candles, caresses, secrets. I'm really not sure exactly how much I like it; I'm pleased with pieces of the dialogue, but I kind of cringe away at schmoop, which I feel like this is. But I digress. G; post-Waiting in the Wings, no Groo; a power-outage, a forgotten Valentine's Day, and a mistake. Oh, yeah, and baby Connor.
Cordelia sat behind the desk, shuffling papers and occassionally typing. Angel leaned against the counter behind her, listening to the rapid click of the keyboard as her fingers moved; he found the noise soothing, almost, in its normalcy. Cordelia hadn't noticed him yet, so he allowed himself to gaze freely at the slim arch of her neck, the strip of tanned skin peeking out from beneath her shirt--
"Can I help you?" she asked, turning to him. "What have I told you about hovering like that? It's hard to get any work done with you creeping around back there."
Angel immediately stepped backward, chastened. "I wasn't-- I didn't mean to-- I wasn't hovering--"
She laughed, shaking her head and sliding out of her chair. Without looking up, she stacked a pile of papers, then reached over to turn off the monitor. "Please, three years with you and I know what hovering looks like," she said, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "But it also means I'm used to it. Are you hungry?"
"I can cook something if you want," he said, shrugging. He let her pass, grunting when she playfully nudged his side with her hip, then trailed after her. There was a sweating diet Pepsi sitting on the counter, without a coaster, so he grabbed it on his way. "Cordy. If you keep leaving cans everywhere, we're going to have to replace the furniture. It gets rings when you don't use a coaster."
When he looked up, she was standing in the threshold of the big commercial kitchen. At his look, she flashed him an awkward smile and shimmied a little. "Oops. Maybe we can get personalized coasters, with the little logo?" He began to reply, but she turned away and moved deeper into the kitchen. Her voice carried behind her. "And hey, how about pancakes? I know it's dinner-time, but you do breakfast so well, and everything else-- not so much."
Angel sighed. "I'll remember that," he said, passing her on his way to the fridge. When he leaned over to search for the milk, Cordelia's hand slid over his back, between his shoulders. Her palm was warm, even through the fabric, and he could smell her perfume and the shampoo she used that morning. Such a simple gesture, but it made him nearly shudder with want for her.
"I'm gonna go check on Connor," she said, next to his ear. "Think he's still sleep?"
Angel nodded, setting the milk on the counter and beginning the search for the flour. He really wished people wouldn't rearrange his cooking supplies. "I just put him down. You can check on him, just be quiet, okay?"
"Sure. Make me three of those, alright?" With that, she started for the lobby. As she passed through the doorway, she kicked off her shoes and pushed them against the wall, out of the walkway.
Out in the lobby, Angel listened as the office door slammed, preceding frenzied footsteps across the tile and, finally, through the double-doors to the outside. Cordelia had paused in moving her shoes aside to watch whoever was leaving; once the lobby returned to silence, she cringed noticeably, reaching up to press her fingers against her temple.
"What's going on?" Angel asked, looking up from the half-mixed bowl of batter. "Was that Wes?"
Cordelia nodded slowly, visibly upset. "Yeah."
"He didn't even say goodnight. Did something happen?"
Obviously something had happened. Cordelia, however, quickly hid her expression of concern, turning to him with an over-bright smile that failed to reach her eyes. "I don't think so. I'm gonna go see Connor."
He didn't have a chance to reply, as she turned and nearly bolted up the stairs. Angel, ignoring the irritable idea that he was (once again) out of the loop, returned to finishing the pancake batter. While he waited a for the skillet to warm, he began fishing around for clean dishes, then settled on paper plates to save himself the chore of washing later.
Angel heard it before it actually happened: the normal buzzing white-noise changed, just enough to distract him, seconds before the hotel was suddenly coated in darkness. It wasn't the diluted darkness of the city, either; it was nearly pitch-black, not even a sliver of light leaking in through the windows. Even the tiny red light of the stove had blinked off.
Cordelia's heartbeat, easily detected without the hum of the air conditioner, began to race. He heard her feet scuffling on the floor above him, and then, her voice: "Angel!"
Angel, dropping a pair of forks, scrambled out of the kitchen. In the lobby doorway, he nearly tripped over Cordelia's shoes; she hadn't pushed them aside quite far enough. Then he lunged up the stairs, guided by the sound of her heartbeat, which echoed the softer, bird-wing beat of Connor's. When he finally reached his suite, he nearly barged straight into Cordelia, who was standing in the center of the room with her hands over her mouth.
"Shit. Angel, is that you? I can't see anything--" Her hands grappled blindly in the dark.
Angel, trying to avoid an unintentional slap, managed to capture her wrist. "Yeah, it's me. The power's gone out. Is Connor--?"
"He's still sleeping," she replied, gazing somewhere near Angel's right ear. "Am I even looking at your eyes? Or is it your nose? It's kind of hard to tell--"
He chuckled despite himself. "It's alright. And no, you're actually looking at my ear." He tentatively released her wrist, then moved toward the crib. When he looked down, he found Connor curled happily beneath the blanket, his breathing soft and even.
"Where are you?" Cordelia snapped. "You can't just go wandering away like that."
Angel made a shushing sound. "I'm at Connor's crib. Hold on a second." To appease her, he reached around and squeezed her hand, although he remained bowed over the crib.
Cordelia sighed. "As cute as your doting daddy routine is, it would be a lot cuter if I could, well, actually see it," she said. "Hey, why don't you go find some candles? I think we have some left over from that time Wesley had to exorcise that paisley demon from Mrs. Chenault's puppy."
"Paisley?" Angel repeated, puzzled. "I don't remember-- oh, the Pezzliyer demon. Right."
"Yeah, whatever. Now that we've laid to rest that great mystery of pronunciation, why don't you go find those candles?" Cordelia stepped tentatively toward him, swiping her hands at him. There was about a two feet of distance between them, however, so he wasn't that worried. "I think they're in the kitchen pantry, somewhere on the bottom shelf."
With one last glance at Connor, Angel reluctantly backed away from the crib, causing Cordelia to bump into him. "Oof," she grunted, then wiped at her nose, which seemed to have bumped against his shoulder. "Sorry. Help me find the bed."
He took her arm and led her over to the bed. "Here. I know you can't see, but try not to break anything while I'm gone."
"Very funny," she replied. "Now I see why you don't make jokes. Now go find those candles!"
With that, he left the room to go find the candles. "Don't forget the matches!" Cordelia yelled after him.
XXX
After all the candles were lit, there was a hazy, golden light spread over the suite; it was bright enough for Cordelia's vision, but dim enough to keep her soft and a little bit sleepy. During the set up, she had tipped over an empty glass on Angel's bedside table. It didn't break, but the thump of it hitting the floor-- accompanied by Cordelia's yelp of surprise-- was enough to wake Connor.
Angel finished lighting the last candle, carefully placing it far enough from the dresser's edge, and joined Cordelia and Connor on the bed. Cordelia was stretched out on her side, gazing adoringly at Connor, cooing to him as he squirmed and gurgled. Angel gently lowered himself beside them, propping his head on the palm of his hand to admire the image they made: woman and child, framed by the soft light of the candles. It was times like this he wished he could paint rather than sketch: he wanted to capture the shimmering gold of Cordelia's skin, the darkened blue of Connor's eyes.
Cordelia interrupted his reverie. "This is nice," she murmured, glancing up at him. "If the power wasn't out, I'd think you were trying to seduce me."
Angel blinked at her, surprised. "What? No, that's not--"
She laughed softly. "Your daddy's so easy," she crooned, tucking her head to whisper in Connor's little ear. Her smile was secretive. "Good thing he's got us, then, huh?"
It moved him, to see the two of them together, almost as much as what she'd said. Overcome, he reached across Connor's soft belly for her hand, clutching it in his own. "Good thing," he said.
Cordelia squeezed his hand, giving the tiny bit of skin between his thumb and forefinger a pinch. When Angel jumped, Cordelia laughed. "Not too good, though, right?"
"Uh, right," Angel replied, nodding.
Cordelia had already moved on, burrowing down into the comforter so her face was right next to Connor's. "He's asleep," she whispered. "That was easier than normal."
Angel, somewhat regretfully, scooped Connor gently up into his arms. "I'll put him down," he said quietly, carrying Connor back to the crib. Angel lowered him down onto the blankets, tucking them around him just so, carefully lying the stuffed bear nearby. "Sleep tight, son," he murmured.
Once Connor was settled, he turned back to the bed. Cordelia wasn't looking at him; in fact, she was staring despondently up at the ceiling. "Cordy?" Angel asked, lowering himself gently down onto the mattress next to her. "What's wrong?"
Cordelia jumped, startled, as if she'd forgotten where she was. "Oh. Nothing, I was just-- thinking, you know?"
"Thinking," Angel repeated, unconvinced. "About what?"
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. You get to brood twenty-three hours out of a twenty-four hour day, no questions, and I can't brood for twenty-three seconds?"
Angel glanced away sheepishly, clearing his throat. "Caught me," he said, after a moment. "No more questions, then."
With a sigh, Cordelia scooted a bit closer to him, looking up at him with a worried expression. It was hard to concentrate on her face, at first, because the length of her leg-- her calves were bare, where her skirt had ridden up above her knees-- was pressed against his, her knee bumped against the side of his. "It's just-- God, I don't know why I'm telling you this," she began. "It's not like you can help."
"I might can," he said, shrugging. The heat of her body was beginning to seep into his; he could feel himself sinking into the warmth, had to concentrate to really listen to what she was saying.
"I think this is a problem left for someone besides Mister Emotionally Stunted," she said, not unkindly. "But here goes. It's Wesley."
Angel blinked and angled his body closer to hers, studying her face. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," she replied, and at that point, she seemed hesitant to look him in the eye. "I didn't mean to, but I think-- I think I hurt his feelings."
"Did you say something? Because I doubt you really hurt his feelings, unless you said something worse than that time you said that thing about his father--"
Cordelia jerked away from him. "Gee, thanks, Angel, you really know what to say in these situations," she snapped. With a scowl, she rolled over, turning her back toward him. Angel reached for her shoulder, his fingers hovering over the cotton of her shirt, but before he touched her she pushed herself even further away. "God, you can be such an ass sometimes, you know that?"
He reached for her again. Now, she was at the edge of the bed, with no choice but to lie still or leave. His hand rested lightly on her waist, his thumb brushing over the bare skin between her skirt and shirt. "I know. I'm sorry, that didn't-- that's not what I meant. I was just trying to-- look, I'm sorry--"
"Oh, for God's sake," she said, then moved back, rolling to face him. She ended up closer than he expected, startling him, but she didnt't seem bothered at all by their sudden proximity. "Quit stammering before you strain yourself and fall out of bed. For someone who's been apologizing for, like, over a century, you're awfully bad at it."
"I know," he agreed, sighing. "I'm--"
She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched, and he knew she was fighting a smile. "Sorry, I know. Can we move on now?"
When he nodded, Cordelia settled back down into the mattress, stretching her legs out with a sigh of satisfaction. "Thank you," she said. In reply, Angel squeezed her waist, which she interpreted as a gesture to begin. "It has to do with the ballet."
Angel blinked in confusion. He didn't remember much of the ballet, except for the way Cordy's breath hitched when he ran his mouth between her breasts, or the way she--
"Angel?" Cordelia asked, glancing at him suspiciously. "Oh my God, are you still hung up on that? Yes, you saw me topless. How old are you, twelve or two-fifty?"
Angel shook his head, clearing his mind of the vision of her-- writhing and moaning and arching underneath his hands, his mouth-- and refocusing on her face. Cordelia, after giving him a brief scowl, continued with the story. "Wesley-- well, he kind of had a thing for Fred. And nobody knows but me, so you have to keep this a secret, okay?"
"Wes has a thing for Fred? How come I didn't know this?"
Cordelia blinked. "I just told you, no one knows but me, moron. It's a secret. Anyway, I-- I made a mistake." She lowered her eyes. "I went shopping with Fred for the ballet, right? And she was asking me these questions about this guy. And I mean, she kept saying 'he' and 'him' and, you know, maybe if she hadn't been so loose with her pronouns this thing would have never happened--" She caught herself, shaking her head and sighing. "Sorry, that's not the point. I just, well, I thought it was Wes. The whole time, I was so sure it was Wes."
Angel moved a bit closer to her, carefully sliding his arm further around her. She relaxed beneath him, tucking her feet so her toes pressed against his. "Was it not Wes? Cordy, there's no way you could've known. It sounds like an honest mistake."
"But I should've made sure," she protested. "And so, I told Wes. I told Wes to make his move, that she wanted him, too, but then-- it wasn't him. It was Gunn."
"Fred has a thing for Gunn?"
Cordelia flapped her hand carelessly. "I know, it's starting to sound like a soap opera, isn't it?"
Angel shook his head. "No, not that. It's just-- I thought Fred had a thing for me. But Gunn? Gunn's nothing like me--"
Cordelia sat up, causing his arm to slide down the side of her body, and looked down at him with undisguised shock. "You're impossible! I'm talking about serious issues here, and you're freaking out about your reputation." She huffed, then settled back down beside him, her arm curled between them. "Anyway, Wesley was trying all night, at the ballet. And then-- then he caught them kissing. That, on top of the thing with Billy, and Wesley's just falling apart. I think he's really upset."
"Have you talked to him?"
Cordelia bowed her head, her forehead against his shoulder. "How can I? I'm the one who caused all of this, getting his hopes up, telling him stupid things like 'the iron is hot'--"
"Hey, hey," Angel said, easing himself down so their noses nearly touched. "It's not your fault. You couldn't have known, and you thought what you were doing was right."
"It's Valentine's Day," she said suddenly. Off his look, she nodded, giving him a small, sad smile. "I know, right? I hadn't thought about it either, until I got an e-card from Willow this afternoon. But I know Wesley thought about it, because he had to sit around all day, watching Gunn laugh and flirt with the girl he thought was his. On Valentine's Day. And it's all because of me."
Angel narrowed his eyes. "Stop saying that. It's not your fault."
Shaking her head, Cordelia sniffed quietly, ducking her face against the pillow to try and hide it. "It was stupid. I should've known. I mean, I told him before-- I told him that people like us... we're just meant to be alone, you know?"
Angel lifted his hand to push her hair aside, trailing his fingers back behind her ear, down the side of her throat. "Cordy," he murmured, then tilted his head to gently rest his forehead against hers. "You're not alone. You're not going to end up alone, and neither is Wes."
"Easy for you to say. You've got that sweet little boy over there to keep you company," Cordelia replied, laughing. It wasn't a happy laugh; it was tremulous, touched with tears. "Me? All I've got a dead guy guy who's good at doing the dishes." Noticing Angel's puzzled expression, she added, "Oh, not you. The other dead guy. Dennis."
"You've got both dead guys," he said vehemently. "And I don't know how well Dennis celebrates Valentine's Day, but even for not remembering, I think we've got a pretty good set-up here. I mean, look-- candles."
Cordelia laughed again, and this time, it was genuine. To his surprise, she reached up and began caressing the skin behind his ear, running her nails gently over the nape of his neck. "You've gotten a lot better at this whole pep-talk thing," she whispered, tilting her face toward his. Before he could respond, she kissed him softly on the mouth: it was long and lingering, and when she pulled away, it was hard not to follow after her.
Angel must have looked dazed afterward, because she dimpled sweetly for him, a blush rising to her cheeks. "That was me, uh, saying thanks. For everything. Also, it's Valentine's Day, so kissing is--"
"You're welcome," he said, interrupting her rambling. She started to speak again, but this time, he kissed her, running his hands up and down the warm slope of her back. When she pulled away, he pressed his forehead against hers. "You're not going to end up alone," he whispered.
"I'm holding you to it," she replied, winking.
When she was smiling like that, cast in the warm, golden glow of the candles, she was absolutely stunning. He touched her hair, smoothed his palm over her cheek. "You're beautiful," he murmured, mesmerized.
"Now I know you're trying to seduce me," she said, but she cuddled up to him anyway, turned her face up when he moved to kiss her again. "And you're right. We do have a good Valentine's day set-up going on here. But there's one thing missing, I think."
Angel, who had begun running his mouth along the line of her jaw, stopped to look up at her. "What's that?"
Cordelia beamed. "Duh! Chocolate!" She immediately collapsed into giggles, throwing an arm around his shoulders.
He pulled her closer, pressed his face against her neck, and laughed with her.
-fin
Cordelia sat behind the desk, shuffling papers and occassionally typing. Angel leaned against the counter behind her, listening to the rapid click of the keyboard as her fingers moved; he found the noise soothing, almost, in its normalcy. Cordelia hadn't noticed him yet, so he allowed himself to gaze freely at the slim arch of her neck, the strip of tanned skin peeking out from beneath her shirt--
"Can I help you?" she asked, turning to him. "What have I told you about hovering like that? It's hard to get any work done with you creeping around back there."
Angel immediately stepped backward, chastened. "I wasn't-- I didn't mean to-- I wasn't hovering--"
She laughed, shaking her head and sliding out of her chair. Without looking up, she stacked a pile of papers, then reached over to turn off the monitor. "Please, three years with you and I know what hovering looks like," she said, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "But it also means I'm used to it. Are you hungry?"
"I can cook something if you want," he said, shrugging. He let her pass, grunting when she playfully nudged his side with her hip, then trailed after her. There was a sweating diet Pepsi sitting on the counter, without a coaster, so he grabbed it on his way. "Cordy. If you keep leaving cans everywhere, we're going to have to replace the furniture. It gets rings when you don't use a coaster."
When he looked up, she was standing in the threshold of the big commercial kitchen. At his look, she flashed him an awkward smile and shimmied a little. "Oops. Maybe we can get personalized coasters, with the little logo?" He began to reply, but she turned away and moved deeper into the kitchen. Her voice carried behind her. "And hey, how about pancakes? I know it's dinner-time, but you do breakfast so well, and everything else-- not so much."
Angel sighed. "I'll remember that," he said, passing her on his way to the fridge. When he leaned over to search for the milk, Cordelia's hand slid over his back, between his shoulders. Her palm was warm, even through the fabric, and he could smell her perfume and the shampoo she used that morning. Such a simple gesture, but it made him nearly shudder with want for her.
"I'm gonna go check on Connor," she said, next to his ear. "Think he's still sleep?"
Angel nodded, setting the milk on the counter and beginning the search for the flour. He really wished people wouldn't rearrange his cooking supplies. "I just put him down. You can check on him, just be quiet, okay?"
"Sure. Make me three of those, alright?" With that, she started for the lobby. As she passed through the doorway, she kicked off her shoes and pushed them against the wall, out of the walkway.
Out in the lobby, Angel listened as the office door slammed, preceding frenzied footsteps across the tile and, finally, through the double-doors to the outside. Cordelia had paused in moving her shoes aside to watch whoever was leaving; once the lobby returned to silence, she cringed noticeably, reaching up to press her fingers against her temple.
"What's going on?" Angel asked, looking up from the half-mixed bowl of batter. "Was that Wes?"
Cordelia nodded slowly, visibly upset. "Yeah."
"He didn't even say goodnight. Did something happen?"
Obviously something had happened. Cordelia, however, quickly hid her expression of concern, turning to him with an over-bright smile that failed to reach her eyes. "I don't think so. I'm gonna go see Connor."
He didn't have a chance to reply, as she turned and nearly bolted up the stairs. Angel, ignoring the irritable idea that he was (once again) out of the loop, returned to finishing the pancake batter. While he waited a for the skillet to warm, he began fishing around for clean dishes, then settled on paper plates to save himself the chore of washing later.
Angel heard it before it actually happened: the normal buzzing white-noise changed, just enough to distract him, seconds before the hotel was suddenly coated in darkness. It wasn't the diluted darkness of the city, either; it was nearly pitch-black, not even a sliver of light leaking in through the windows. Even the tiny red light of the stove had blinked off.
Cordelia's heartbeat, easily detected without the hum of the air conditioner, began to race. He heard her feet scuffling on the floor above him, and then, her voice: "Angel!"
Angel, dropping a pair of forks, scrambled out of the kitchen. In the lobby doorway, he nearly tripped over Cordelia's shoes; she hadn't pushed them aside quite far enough. Then he lunged up the stairs, guided by the sound of her heartbeat, which echoed the softer, bird-wing beat of Connor's. When he finally reached his suite, he nearly barged straight into Cordelia, who was standing in the center of the room with her hands over her mouth.
"Shit. Angel, is that you? I can't see anything--" Her hands grappled blindly in the dark.
Angel, trying to avoid an unintentional slap, managed to capture her wrist. "Yeah, it's me. The power's gone out. Is Connor--?"
"He's still sleeping," she replied, gazing somewhere near Angel's right ear. "Am I even looking at your eyes? Or is it your nose? It's kind of hard to tell--"
He chuckled despite himself. "It's alright. And no, you're actually looking at my ear." He tentatively released her wrist, then moved toward the crib. When he looked down, he found Connor curled happily beneath the blanket, his breathing soft and even.
"Where are you?" Cordelia snapped. "You can't just go wandering away like that."
Angel made a shushing sound. "I'm at Connor's crib. Hold on a second." To appease her, he reached around and squeezed her hand, although he remained bowed over the crib.
Cordelia sighed. "As cute as your doting daddy routine is, it would be a lot cuter if I could, well, actually see it," she said. "Hey, why don't you go find some candles? I think we have some left over from that time Wesley had to exorcise that paisley demon from Mrs. Chenault's puppy."
"Paisley?" Angel repeated, puzzled. "I don't remember-- oh, the Pezzliyer demon. Right."
"Yeah, whatever. Now that we've laid to rest that great mystery of pronunciation, why don't you go find those candles?" Cordelia stepped tentatively toward him, swiping her hands at him. There was about a two feet of distance between them, however, so he wasn't that worried. "I think they're in the kitchen pantry, somewhere on the bottom shelf."
With one last glance at Connor, Angel reluctantly backed away from the crib, causing Cordelia to bump into him. "Oof," she grunted, then wiped at her nose, which seemed to have bumped against his shoulder. "Sorry. Help me find the bed."
He took her arm and led her over to the bed. "Here. I know you can't see, but try not to break anything while I'm gone."
"Very funny," she replied. "Now I see why you don't make jokes. Now go find those candles!"
With that, he left the room to go find the candles. "Don't forget the matches!" Cordelia yelled after him.
XXX
After all the candles were lit, there was a hazy, golden light spread over the suite; it was bright enough for Cordelia's vision, but dim enough to keep her soft and a little bit sleepy. During the set up, she had tipped over an empty glass on Angel's bedside table. It didn't break, but the thump of it hitting the floor-- accompanied by Cordelia's yelp of surprise-- was enough to wake Connor.
Angel finished lighting the last candle, carefully placing it far enough from the dresser's edge, and joined Cordelia and Connor on the bed. Cordelia was stretched out on her side, gazing adoringly at Connor, cooing to him as he squirmed and gurgled. Angel gently lowered himself beside them, propping his head on the palm of his hand to admire the image they made: woman and child, framed by the soft light of the candles. It was times like this he wished he could paint rather than sketch: he wanted to capture the shimmering gold of Cordelia's skin, the darkened blue of Connor's eyes.
Cordelia interrupted his reverie. "This is nice," she murmured, glancing up at him. "If the power wasn't out, I'd think you were trying to seduce me."
Angel blinked at her, surprised. "What? No, that's not--"
She laughed softly. "Your daddy's so easy," she crooned, tucking her head to whisper in Connor's little ear. Her smile was secretive. "Good thing he's got us, then, huh?"
It moved him, to see the two of them together, almost as much as what she'd said. Overcome, he reached across Connor's soft belly for her hand, clutching it in his own. "Good thing," he said.
Cordelia squeezed his hand, giving the tiny bit of skin between his thumb and forefinger a pinch. When Angel jumped, Cordelia laughed. "Not too good, though, right?"
"Uh, right," Angel replied, nodding.
Cordelia had already moved on, burrowing down into the comforter so her face was right next to Connor's. "He's asleep," she whispered. "That was easier than normal."
Angel, somewhat regretfully, scooped Connor gently up into his arms. "I'll put him down," he said quietly, carrying Connor back to the crib. Angel lowered him down onto the blankets, tucking them around him just so, carefully lying the stuffed bear nearby. "Sleep tight, son," he murmured.
Once Connor was settled, he turned back to the bed. Cordelia wasn't looking at him; in fact, she was staring despondently up at the ceiling. "Cordy?" Angel asked, lowering himself gently down onto the mattress next to her. "What's wrong?"
Cordelia jumped, startled, as if she'd forgotten where she was. "Oh. Nothing, I was just-- thinking, you know?"
"Thinking," Angel repeated, unconvinced. "About what?"
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. You get to brood twenty-three hours out of a twenty-four hour day, no questions, and I can't brood for twenty-three seconds?"
Angel glanced away sheepishly, clearing his throat. "Caught me," he said, after a moment. "No more questions, then."
With a sigh, Cordelia scooted a bit closer to him, looking up at him with a worried expression. It was hard to concentrate on her face, at first, because the length of her leg-- her calves were bare, where her skirt had ridden up above her knees-- was pressed against his, her knee bumped against the side of his. "It's just-- God, I don't know why I'm telling you this," she began. "It's not like you can help."
"I might can," he said, shrugging. The heat of her body was beginning to seep into his; he could feel himself sinking into the warmth, had to concentrate to really listen to what she was saying.
"I think this is a problem left for someone besides Mister Emotionally Stunted," she said, not unkindly. "But here goes. It's Wesley."
Angel blinked and angled his body closer to hers, studying her face. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," she replied, and at that point, she seemed hesitant to look him in the eye. "I didn't mean to, but I think-- I think I hurt his feelings."
"Did you say something? Because I doubt you really hurt his feelings, unless you said something worse than that time you said that thing about his father--"
Cordelia jerked away from him. "Gee, thanks, Angel, you really know what to say in these situations," she snapped. With a scowl, she rolled over, turning her back toward him. Angel reached for her shoulder, his fingers hovering over the cotton of her shirt, but before he touched her she pushed herself even further away. "God, you can be such an ass sometimes, you know that?"
He reached for her again. Now, she was at the edge of the bed, with no choice but to lie still or leave. His hand rested lightly on her waist, his thumb brushing over the bare skin between her skirt and shirt. "I know. I'm sorry, that didn't-- that's not what I meant. I was just trying to-- look, I'm sorry--"
"Oh, for God's sake," she said, then moved back, rolling to face him. She ended up closer than he expected, startling him, but she didnt't seem bothered at all by their sudden proximity. "Quit stammering before you strain yourself and fall out of bed. For someone who's been apologizing for, like, over a century, you're awfully bad at it."
"I know," he agreed, sighing. "I'm--"
She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched, and he knew she was fighting a smile. "Sorry, I know. Can we move on now?"
When he nodded, Cordelia settled back down into the mattress, stretching her legs out with a sigh of satisfaction. "Thank you," she said. In reply, Angel squeezed her waist, which she interpreted as a gesture to begin. "It has to do with the ballet."
Angel blinked in confusion. He didn't remember much of the ballet, except for the way Cordy's breath hitched when he ran his mouth between her breasts, or the way she--
"Angel?" Cordelia asked, glancing at him suspiciously. "Oh my God, are you still hung up on that? Yes, you saw me topless. How old are you, twelve or two-fifty?"
Angel shook his head, clearing his mind of the vision of her-- writhing and moaning and arching underneath his hands, his mouth-- and refocusing on her face. Cordelia, after giving him a brief scowl, continued with the story. "Wesley-- well, he kind of had a thing for Fred. And nobody knows but me, so you have to keep this a secret, okay?"
"Wes has a thing for Fred? How come I didn't know this?"
Cordelia blinked. "I just told you, no one knows but me, moron. It's a secret. Anyway, I-- I made a mistake." She lowered her eyes. "I went shopping with Fred for the ballet, right? And she was asking me these questions about this guy. And I mean, she kept saying 'he' and 'him' and, you know, maybe if she hadn't been so loose with her pronouns this thing would have never happened--" She caught herself, shaking her head and sighing. "Sorry, that's not the point. I just, well, I thought it was Wes. The whole time, I was so sure it was Wes."
Angel moved a bit closer to her, carefully sliding his arm further around her. She relaxed beneath him, tucking her feet so her toes pressed against his. "Was it not Wes? Cordy, there's no way you could've known. It sounds like an honest mistake."
"But I should've made sure," she protested. "And so, I told Wes. I told Wes to make his move, that she wanted him, too, but then-- it wasn't him. It was Gunn."
"Fred has a thing for Gunn?"
Cordelia flapped her hand carelessly. "I know, it's starting to sound like a soap opera, isn't it?"
Angel shook his head. "No, not that. It's just-- I thought Fred had a thing for me. But Gunn? Gunn's nothing like me--"
Cordelia sat up, causing his arm to slide down the side of her body, and looked down at him with undisguised shock. "You're impossible! I'm talking about serious issues here, and you're freaking out about your reputation." She huffed, then settled back down beside him, her arm curled between them. "Anyway, Wesley was trying all night, at the ballet. And then-- then he caught them kissing. That, on top of the thing with Billy, and Wesley's just falling apart. I think he's really upset."
"Have you talked to him?"
Cordelia bowed her head, her forehead against his shoulder. "How can I? I'm the one who caused all of this, getting his hopes up, telling him stupid things like 'the iron is hot'--"
"Hey, hey," Angel said, easing himself down so their noses nearly touched. "It's not your fault. You couldn't have known, and you thought what you were doing was right."
"It's Valentine's Day," she said suddenly. Off his look, she nodded, giving him a small, sad smile. "I know, right? I hadn't thought about it either, until I got an e-card from Willow this afternoon. But I know Wesley thought about it, because he had to sit around all day, watching Gunn laugh and flirt with the girl he thought was his. On Valentine's Day. And it's all because of me."
Angel narrowed his eyes. "Stop saying that. It's not your fault."
Shaking her head, Cordelia sniffed quietly, ducking her face against the pillow to try and hide it. "It was stupid. I should've known. I mean, I told him before-- I told him that people like us... we're just meant to be alone, you know?"
Angel lifted his hand to push her hair aside, trailing his fingers back behind her ear, down the side of her throat. "Cordy," he murmured, then tilted his head to gently rest his forehead against hers. "You're not alone. You're not going to end up alone, and neither is Wes."
"Easy for you to say. You've got that sweet little boy over there to keep you company," Cordelia replied, laughing. It wasn't a happy laugh; it was tremulous, touched with tears. "Me? All I've got a dead guy guy who's good at doing the dishes." Noticing Angel's puzzled expression, she added, "Oh, not you. The other dead guy. Dennis."
"You've got both dead guys," he said vehemently. "And I don't know how well Dennis celebrates Valentine's Day, but even for not remembering, I think we've got a pretty good set-up here. I mean, look-- candles."
Cordelia laughed again, and this time, it was genuine. To his surprise, she reached up and began caressing the skin behind his ear, running her nails gently over the nape of his neck. "You've gotten a lot better at this whole pep-talk thing," she whispered, tilting her face toward his. Before he could respond, she kissed him softly on the mouth: it was long and lingering, and when she pulled away, it was hard not to follow after her.
Angel must have looked dazed afterward, because she dimpled sweetly for him, a blush rising to her cheeks. "That was me, uh, saying thanks. For everything. Also, it's Valentine's Day, so kissing is--"
"You're welcome," he said, interrupting her rambling. She started to speak again, but this time, he kissed her, running his hands up and down the warm slope of her back. When she pulled away, he pressed his forehead against hers. "You're not going to end up alone," he whispered.
"I'm holding you to it," she replied, winking.
When she was smiling like that, cast in the warm, golden glow of the candles, she was absolutely stunning. He touched her hair, smoothed his palm over her cheek. "You're beautiful," he murmured, mesmerized.
"Now I know you're trying to seduce me," she said, but she cuddled up to him anyway, turned her face up when he moved to kiss her again. "And you're right. We do have a good Valentine's day set-up going on here. But there's one thing missing, I think."
Angel, who had begun running his mouth along the line of her jaw, stopped to look up at her. "What's that?"
Cordelia beamed. "Duh! Chocolate!" She immediately collapsed into giggles, throwing an arm around his shoulders.
He pulled her closer, pressed his face against her neck, and laughed with her.
-fin