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No answering smile from me, whose life is twin'd With the dead boughs that winter still must bind." - Dante Gabriel Rossetti's "Barren Spring" "You're drunk," Angel said, with his voice caught somewhere between disbelieving and annoyed. "Well, duh," Cordelia told him, trying to force her face into the serious expression that she thought he expected, but she couldn't. Life was just way too short to be serious when you were this drunk. "Do you want one? Because there are all these guys just dying to buy me drinks. And once they're mine I can do whatever I want with them. Including give them to you." You'd think Angel would be happy for some free drinks, but no, Mr. Sour-Puss Broody guy just frowned. "You called me," he pointed out. "I did?" Not sure she remembered that part, Cordelia frowned too, but the idea that she was doing a mirror-image thing with the guy that couldn't see himself in mirrors cracked her up, so she laughed instead. "Why would I call you?" "At this point my guess would be because you wanted a ride," Angel said, looking around the bar. It wasn't one of the ones with loud music, because tonight wasn't a night she could tolerate that -- her head had felt fragile even before she'd started drinking, like the visions were crowding in on everything else that was in there. Sometimes it made her feel weird and dizzy. "Come on, you've had enough," Angel said, hauling her to her feet with a hand on her upper arm. "No! I don't want to go!" Cordelia protested, even though she wasn't sure why she didn't want to go. It wasn't like getting drunk had actually worked to make her feel any better, but... well, she'd been there a while, and she kind of liked it. It was like... a second home. Maybe she could move in. Or maybe she could get a second job, working at the bar! How hard could it be to mix drinks, anyway? But Angel was walking her toward the door. "Angel, cut it out," she said, shoving at his hand even though that did as much good as some comparison she'd think of later when she wasn't really really drunk. Some other guy -- a big guy, blond, not really her type despite the fact that he was muscles on muscles and made nice eye candy, stepped in between them and the door. "Hey buddy," the guy said, "Sounds to me like she doesn't want to go with you." "Yeah, well, see, she's had a little bit too much to drink," Angel said, with that apologetic ducking of his eyes thing that he did. That didn't seem to be good enough for Mr. I-Spend-7-days-a-week-at-the-gym. "Yeah, right. You think I don't know your type? Get a lady drunk and then take advantage of her? Well not if I have anything to say about it." "You don't," Angel said flatly. "Now get out of our way, or I'll move you myself." He managed to sound totally calm while he said it, but his voice also had a dark edgy undertone. The guy wasn't impressed. "I'd like to see you try." "Okay," Angel said, shrugging his shoulder apologetically. Then, faster than Cordelia could even see it happen, he hit the blond guy right in the face. Despite the guy's size -- or maybe because of it -- he dropped like one of those big cement blocks. "Come on," Angel said, still holding Cordelia's arm with his other hand and helping her step around the guy, who was groaning and covering his bleeding mouth and nose as he rolled around on the floor. "That was nice and civilized," Cordelia said. She was actually pretty glad that Angel was helping her stay upright -- she hadn't realized how dizzy she was when she'd been sitting down. "Nice is overrated," Angel said, guiding her across the street to his car. Once she was tucked into the front seat and Angel was behind the wheel, he turned and looked at her. "What?" Cordelia said, a little freaked out by the scrutiny. "You want to tell me what the hell is going on?" She looked at him stubbornly. "What, I can't go out and have a few drinks on Friday night? You know, technically, when I'm not on the clock, I'm free to do whatever I want." Heck, most of the time when she was on the clock she did whatever she wanted, and usually he let her get away with it. "You're free to do whatever you want," Angel agreed, "but so am I, and I'm the one you called to come pick you up." Sullenly, Cordelia turned her head and looked out the windshield. "I could have taken a cab." "Yeah, you could have, if you'd called the cab company instead of me." Angel started up the car, then glanced at her again. "Please tell me you aren't going to be sick in my car." "I'm not going to be sick in your car," Cordelia repeated automatically. It might have been true. She was super dizzy, and focusing her eyes was an adventure that would have been new if she wasn't used to that as a vision after-effect, but she didn't feel particularly sick to her stomach. Anyway, it wasn't like Angel's car was some... paragon among cars or something. It wasn't even in good condition. They drove for a while. It was pretty late -- she wasn't sure how late exactly -- and everything seemed so nice and quiet. The cool air felt good on her flushed cheeks, and she leaned her head back and just concentrated on breathing slowly. "What is it?" Angel asked gently. "Is it Doyle?" That definitely gets Cordelia's attention, because Angel almost never says Doyle's name. She kept her eyes closed. "I don't know," she said. Angel sighed. "I knew this was going to happen." "You knew I was going to get drunk?" Cordelia was confused. "No... but I knew something like this was going to happen. I should have, I don't know, insisted that you go talk to someone." "Okay, not getting any less confused here," she said. "I talk to you, like, every day. Way more than I want to." Angel gave her a look that said that he didn't appreciate the lack of tact, but Cordelia figured it was his problem if he didn't like it. It was just the way she was built. "Someone professional," he clarified. Oh, a shrink. "Right. Because that would be easy to explain." Cordelia sat up a little bit straighter in the seat. "'Well, you see, this friend of mine died when he sacrificed himself destroying a beacon that was designed by demons to kill anything that had human blood. And just before that he gave me these visions, see?'" God, she was so drunk. "Well you could have skipped some of that," Angel said uncomfortably. "Stuck with the important stuff." "Which is what? That he died?" It was Cordelia's turn to sigh. "We've been over this already. He died, I miss him, you miss him. What else is there to say?" "I thought you were the one who was all gung-ho about talking about feelings," Angel said. Cordelia snickered. "You don't have to say it like it's a dirty word," she said. "And no, I wasn't looking to get into a big heart to heart about it. I just didn't like that you were pretending it never happened. That felt too much like..." She trailed off. "Like what?" Angel asked. "Like he was never here at all." Cordelia grimaced. "Not like I could ever really forget anyway, thanks to the visions." She was starting to get the feeling that she was going to be seriously hung over in the morning, and she wasn't looking forward to that part. "Isn't there something I can do for that?" she asked. "Bloody Marys, or something?" Angel looked over his shoulder and made a wide casual turn. "What?" "For hangovers," Cordelia said. Was he not listening? "What's in a Bloody Mary anyway?" She was thinking about Bloody Marys, not about the visions and the headaches and the belief, deep down where she didn't let any light get at it and let it grow, that one of these days a vision was literally going to crack her head open and leave her dead or, worse, a vegetable on life support in some hospital. She hated hospitals. "I don't know," Angel was saying. "Vodka, I think. Celery seeds?" Cordelia gave him a look of doubt. "Celery seeds? Does celery even have seeds?" "Well I don't think it spontaneously appears from nowhere," Angel said. "Tomato juice," Cordelia said. "That either." She rolled her eyes. "I don't have any of the right ingredients. Can we stop somewhere?" "You're so drunk that you called me to pick you up and then forgot that you called me, and yet somehow you think that I'm going to stop somewhere so that you can buy more liquor?" "I was gonna make you buy it," Cordelia mumbled. "I'm kind of out of money." Angel turned the car again and she realized they were on her street. "The last thing you need right now is more to drink," he said, pulling the car up to the curb in front of her building and shutting it off. "I wasn't going to drink it now. I was going to drink it in the morning when I'll be miserable and won't want to get out of bed." When had her seat belt gotten fastened? And for that matter, how the heck did she get it unfastened? Cordelia kept struggling with the latch until Angel got out of the car, came over to her side, opened the door, and undid it for her with one quick hand movement. "Come on, let's get you inside." "You don't have to come with me," Cordelia said, although actually the thought of having someone else in the apartment with her -- other than Dennis -- sounded pretty nice, even if it was just Angel. "Yeah I do," Angel said. They got up to the front door -- she only stumbled once. Okay, maybe twice -- and she found her key and managed to get it unlocked. Dennis turned the lights on for them. "Sit down," Angel said. "Do you want coffee?" "God no." Cordelia did sink down onto the couch because she was tired and reeling. "Um, water?" "Okay." She listened to the sounds of Angel going into the kitchen and opening the fridge, taking out a bottle of water and closing the refrigerator door again. He came back and crouched down in front of her, pressed the bottle into her hand and took her little purse from her, setting it down on the floor next to the couch. "Thanks," she said, and she meant more than just the water. "You're welcome," Angel said, and she was pretty sure he meant for more than just the water too. He reached out and touched her face gently, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone, and Cordelia was just drunk enough to let him do it without complaining. Much. "God, I must look awful," she said, hoping he'd have a clue for once and deny it. "No," he said. "You're beautiful." Cordelia frowned, but the expression threatened to make the vague beginnings of the headache that was floating around the back of her skull zoom forward, so she stopped. "Wow, when did you become compliment guy?" "I don't..." Angel looked flustered now. "I don't want you to think I don't know what you're going through." Which was crap. "That's a bunch of crap," Cordelia said. "You don't have any idea what I'm going through. Why do you think...?" He waited for her to finish, but she wasn't sure she wanted to. The silence was too weird though. She had to say something. "Look, Angel... I'm fine, okay?" Angel gestured at her purse. "You're fine? How many bottles of pills would I find in there if I opened it up and dumped it out? Three?" Four, actually, but he'd better not think he was going to do that. "Okay, maybe not fine, but... I'll be okay. I can get through this." Cordelia wondered how good a job she was doing at lying. Angel sighed and stood up, but he didn't move to leave. Instead he sat down next to her on the couch. "I know they're worse for you. Than they were for Doyle, I mean." Wow, a record, twice in one night, Cordelia thought. "So, what? You think I can't handle it?" She grinned, trying to make it look genuine. "I figure being the nastiest girl in Sunnydale history's gotta be good for something." The headache was creeping forward slowly, like maybe if it did that she wouldn't notice it until it was too late. "You're not nasty," Angel protested. "You're, you know... unique." "Uh-huh." If nothing else, Cordelia told herself, she didn't have any illusions about who she was. Not anymore, anyway. "Try asking half my high school class what they think. Well, the ones that actually survived graduation." "You're supposed to be drinking that," Angel said, pointing at the bottle she'd almost forgotten she was holding. Cordelia blinked. "Oh. Right." She twisted off the cap and took a sip, but now her stomach had joined her head in the general revolt against her body and it wasn't crazy about the water. Thinking about throwing up -- which she totally wasn't going to do, because she hated to throw up -- reminded her of how she'd puked in the bathroom of the offices where she'd had the audition that had been oh so ceremoniously interrupted by her very first vision. How she'd puked so hard that she'd thought her eyes were going to fall out of her head. Of course, right after that she'd cried for a good ten minutes before she'd managed to put herself back together and go back to their own office, hoping the whole way that she could kiss Angel and give the stupid visions to him instead. They were his, right? For his redemption or whatever. Why should she have to be stuck with them? "You okay?" Angel asked, reaching out and running a hand into her hair at the back of her neck, his strong fingers rubbing at the base of her skull like he could tell that there was a headache threatening. Usually she wasn't into the whole touching thing, but thinking about Doyle had put her in a weird headspace -- well, that and the drunk thing, probably -- and it actually felt kind of nice, so she let him. "Yeah, I'm okay," she lied. Her voice sounded kind of shaky. "Maybe you should finish that up and go to bed," Angel said softly. "Get some sleep." "Mm-hm," Cordelia said, but she didn't move. She turned her head a little bit to look at Angel -- not too much, because she didn't want to do anything that would interrupt what his hand was doing -- and the expression on his face made her tear up immediately. He looked so... worried, and nice, and he was only a complete dork like ninety percent of the time, which she figured was a five percent improvement on Xander, and... she had to be so very drunk to be considering this, but she wanted to kiss him again. Just this once, to prove to herself that it couldn't happen. Before he could move, and before she could talk herself out of it, Cordelia leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Angel was startled, she could tell that by the way he sort of tried to resist, but within a few seconds he stopped trying and kissed back and yeah, he was still a good kisser. Not too gentle, not too rough. Cordelia pulled back. She was still holding the water bottle in her hand, and there was no way this was going to happen, it just -- well, Angel couldn't, for one, plus she didn't have those kinds of feelings for him, even if her body seemed to think it was a really good idea, and... "Screw it," she said, setting the bottle on the floor and lunging forward to kiss him again. Angel's arms were around her now, holding on. "Cordy, we can't..." he gasped between kisses. "You know this isn't..." "I know," she agreed. "And anyway, we don't..." "I know." Angel opened his mouth wider to the next kiss, their tongues meeting briefly, and he tasted way too good for this not to be okay. "Cordy, we can't..." "I know," she murmured. "I know. We're not." His other hand moved to her waist and pulled her closer, but there wasn't anywhere closer to go except onto his lap, so that's what she did -- swung one leg over so that she was straddling him, rubbing her body against his, and Angel groaned into her mouth. She trembled as his hand cupped her breast, thumb rubbing over her nipple. "We're not. Doing this," Cordelia said, sliding a hand down between them to press the heel against his erection. She might be drunk, but she wasn't stupid. There was no way this was going to go too far -- they both knew better -- but even this much felt good. Angel pushed up her top and got his hand inside, and then even though she was wearing a bra his fingers were somehow pinching her bare nipple and it was amazing. His mouth was hard against hers, their kisses desperate in a physical kind of way, and her own hand was fumbling with the front of Angel's pants, wanting to know how he'd feel, since this was the only time this was ever, ever going to happen even though they weren't doing this. He was wearing silk boxers -- real silk, Cordelia knew the difference -- and it was easy enough to slip her hand inside and take hold of him, huge and hard, thin skin just about as soft as the silk. Angel shivered and groaned again. She pressed her hips forward so that she could rub herself against her own wrist while she touched him, and then Angel's hips tilted, shoving her and making her tighten her grip on him at the same time, and they both gasped. "Do that again," she ordered breathlessly. "I thought we weren't doing this." Angel sounded like maybe he was actually having a sense of humor, wonder of wonders. "Shut up," Cordelia said, nipping at his lip, "and do that again." He did, then again, starting up a gentle rhythm where his body was moving hers. He was still pinching and rolling her nipple, which was sending little shocks of pleasure through her, and they were moving, and kissing, and moving... Cordelia didn't come until he did, until she felt Angel's cock get harder and then softer in waves, coolness flooding over her hand as he shuddered, and then she came too. She had to clutch his shoulder with her free hand to stay up, barely aware of his arm around her as she gave a series of little cries. They didn't stop kissing for a while after, even though it had changed from physical desperation into mostly an affectionate kind of kiss. She was struck by the realization, not for the first time, that she'd never have this with Doyle, that they'd lost their chance, and a crushingly blow of sadness settled around her for everything she'd lost, all the things she'd never have now, and all the things Angel would never have, and she almost started to cry. It wasn't more than a couple of tears, but Angel noticed, taking her face between his hands and brushing them away. "You know," he said, "Someone pretty smart told me that it's okay to miss him." She cleared her throat and got up, straightening her clothes. She wasn't embarrassed or anything. "I know that. I just... I didn't realize that it was going to be like this." "That what was going to be like this?" Angel asked. "You know," Cordelia said, feeling like everything had happened so fast, like it had all gone by without her even noticing. She was looking at Angel, but she couldn't really see him, because the reality was finally sinking in. "My life."
End
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