Fic post
I wrote this about a year and a half ago, and it's set post-Lover's Walk so I thought I'd repost it here to help launch the new week.
~~
Title: The Hospital Visit
Author: Samsom
Rating: R
Pairing: Angel and Cordelia friendship
Summary: Cordelia gets a visitor Post Lover’s Walk. Hurt/Comfort mostly.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making anything off this. Just having fun.
~~
The sound of the monitor beeping brings her out of her drug induced sleep and she frowns in irritation, trying to swallow around her dry throat.
The pain in her side hasn’t left her and she’d prefer to be asleep while the worst of the infection works its way through her system, but if that stupid monitor keeps going off every hour there will be no hope for that.
It’s worse than bad hotel service because she can’t really complain. The nurses have been so helpful and careful with her, she’d feel like a total shit if she took her discomfort out on them.
Contrary to popular opinion, Cordelia Chase knows how to be grateful.
She reaches out for the call button, but it’s not by her hip anymore.
Turning her head, she sees the plug hanging off the railing of her bed.
Oh shit. She’ll never be able to pull it back up without ripping her stitches, and the damned noise won’t stop without someone switching it off manually.
“Here, let me,” comes a quiet voice from the dark corner of her hospital room.
She glances up quickly and sees a shadow detach itself from the wall and move toward her.
Angel looks ghostly in the dim light of the room, like something out of a Poe poem.
“Angel, what’re you-?” she cuts herself off as a thought occurs to her. “Look, if Xander sent you to beg for him…” She tries, but the drugs are cutting her off from the worst of her emotions. She can’t hold on to the anger. All she can really feel is the fever in her body and a desperate need for more sleep.
“Xander didn’t send me,” Angel replies, reaching up and switching off the monitor.
Sweet, blessed quiet fills the room.
“Thank God,” she sighs. Then she frowns up at him, blinking because he’s blurring around the edges of her vision. “Then why are you here?”
He shrugs delicately, holding his hands together in a light clasp, the fingers twisting together.
“I came by the hospital for some blood, thought I’d see how you were while I was waiting for my contact.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You’re drinking human blood? Should I be worried?”
It’s not a serious question. She figures if he wanted to help himself to a Cordelia shooter he’d have done it while she slept. But she didn’t really know what else to say to Buffy’s occasionally psychotic boyfriend.
“No, you’re safe,” he chuckles softly. “How are you?” He adds.
She swallows and turns away, hating the pity she hears in his voice.
“You mean, how am I after I search half of Sunnydale worried sick my boyfriend was being turned into the creepy undead - no offense - only to find him making out with Willow, and then trying to make a dramatic exit only to fall through a staircase and end up getting impaled by a rebar?” She shrugs and turns away, staring at the far wall. “Just great, of course. Never better.”
He doesn’t say anything, and she hears him shifting positions, going from one foot to another. He’s clearly out of his depth.
“Look, Angel,” she turns back to him. “I’m fine, really. You can go back to Buffy and tell her I won’t be doing anything stupid. Not over Xander-didn’t-know-a-good-thing-when-he-had-it-Harris.”
Angel stares at her and swallows, creeping slightly closer. She watches him, curious about what he thought he would do.
He reaches out with one of those long-fingered hands and touches the pillow next to her head.
“I know what it feels like,” he whispers. “They can make you feel like an outsider without even trying. And sometimes trying. A little worthless, a little like you’re second class, but,” he stops and she hates that she’s waiting for him to finish. She wants to hear what he thinks, because it might matter.
She hates that worse.
“Xander is the one who’s worthless here, Cordelia. Not you. Don’t let him or what he did define you or make you feel like you’re wrong somehow.” He swallows. “Get better soon.”
He turns to go.
“Angel?” she calls. He stops and turns back to her. “Thank you.” She feels the drugs pulling her back to sleep and blinks. “For a taciturn undead creature of the night that tried to rip my throat out a few months ago, you make a lot of sense.”
He smiles slightly and she tilts her head.
“Have you thought about helping people professionally?”
He blinks and swallows.
“No, I hadn’t,” he replies.
“Well think about it, you’re better at it than you think.”
Shifting her position slightly, she settles her head back on her pillow.
He takes the hint and turns to go again.
“And Angel,” she calls out as she closes her eyes. “You could take some of that advice yourself, you know.”
He doesn’t say anything, but then again, she doesn’t expect him to.
Recognizing what’s bad for you is hard, but when you do, it’s easy to let go.
She hopes Angel realizes that before he ends up losing his soul again.
She falls asleep, unaware of Angel slipping out the door.
~~
~~
Title: The Hospital Visit
Author: Samsom
Rating: R
Pairing: Angel and Cordelia friendship
Summary: Cordelia gets a visitor Post Lover’s Walk. Hurt/Comfort mostly.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making anything off this. Just having fun.
~~
The sound of the monitor beeping brings her out of her drug induced sleep and she frowns in irritation, trying to swallow around her dry throat.
The pain in her side hasn’t left her and she’d prefer to be asleep while the worst of the infection works its way through her system, but if that stupid monitor keeps going off every hour there will be no hope for that.
It’s worse than bad hotel service because she can’t really complain. The nurses have been so helpful and careful with her, she’d feel like a total shit if she took her discomfort out on them.
Contrary to popular opinion, Cordelia Chase knows how to be grateful.
She reaches out for the call button, but it’s not by her hip anymore.
Turning her head, she sees the plug hanging off the railing of her bed.
Oh shit. She’ll never be able to pull it back up without ripping her stitches, and the damned noise won’t stop without someone switching it off manually.
“Here, let me,” comes a quiet voice from the dark corner of her hospital room.
She glances up quickly and sees a shadow detach itself from the wall and move toward her.
Angel looks ghostly in the dim light of the room, like something out of a Poe poem.
“Angel, what’re you-?” she cuts herself off as a thought occurs to her. “Look, if Xander sent you to beg for him…” She tries, but the drugs are cutting her off from the worst of her emotions. She can’t hold on to the anger. All she can really feel is the fever in her body and a desperate need for more sleep.
“Xander didn’t send me,” Angel replies, reaching up and switching off the monitor.
Sweet, blessed quiet fills the room.
“Thank God,” she sighs. Then she frowns up at him, blinking because he’s blurring around the edges of her vision. “Then why are you here?”
He shrugs delicately, holding his hands together in a light clasp, the fingers twisting together.
“I came by the hospital for some blood, thought I’d see how you were while I was waiting for my contact.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You’re drinking human blood? Should I be worried?”
It’s not a serious question. She figures if he wanted to help himself to a Cordelia shooter he’d have done it while she slept. But she didn’t really know what else to say to Buffy’s occasionally psychotic boyfriend.
“No, you’re safe,” he chuckles softly. “How are you?” He adds.
She swallows and turns away, hating the pity she hears in his voice.
“You mean, how am I after I search half of Sunnydale worried sick my boyfriend was being turned into the creepy undead - no offense - only to find him making out with Willow, and then trying to make a dramatic exit only to fall through a staircase and end up getting impaled by a rebar?” She shrugs and turns away, staring at the far wall. “Just great, of course. Never better.”
He doesn’t say anything, and she hears him shifting positions, going from one foot to another. He’s clearly out of his depth.
“Look, Angel,” she turns back to him. “I’m fine, really. You can go back to Buffy and tell her I won’t be doing anything stupid. Not over Xander-didn’t-know-a-good-thing-when-he-had-it-Harris.”
Angel stares at her and swallows, creeping slightly closer. She watches him, curious about what he thought he would do.
He reaches out with one of those long-fingered hands and touches the pillow next to her head.
“I know what it feels like,” he whispers. “They can make you feel like an outsider without even trying. And sometimes trying. A little worthless, a little like you’re second class, but,” he stops and she hates that she’s waiting for him to finish. She wants to hear what he thinks, because it might matter.
She hates that worse.
“Xander is the one who’s worthless here, Cordelia. Not you. Don’t let him or what he did define you or make you feel like you’re wrong somehow.” He swallows. “Get better soon.”
He turns to go.
“Angel?” she calls. He stops and turns back to her. “Thank you.” She feels the drugs pulling her back to sleep and blinks. “For a taciturn undead creature of the night that tried to rip my throat out a few months ago, you make a lot of sense.”
He smiles slightly and she tilts her head.
“Have you thought about helping people professionally?”
He blinks and swallows.
“No, I hadn’t,” he replies.
“Well think about it, you’re better at it than you think.”
Shifting her position slightly, she settles her head back on her pillow.
He takes the hint and turns to go again.
“And Angel,” she calls out as she closes her eyes. “You could take some of that advice yourself, you know.”
He doesn’t say anything, but then again, she doesn’t expect him to.
Recognizing what’s bad for you is hard, but when you do, it’s easy to let go.
She hopes Angel realizes that before he ends up losing his soul again.
She falls asleep, unaware of Angel slipping out the door.
~~