Part 2: Stay Out of the Kitchen
Would Cordy ever stop laughing, Angel wondered. Of course it was hard not to appreciate the sound, even if it was at his own expense. Cordelia laughing was hard not to like.
When she just let her self go and threw everything she had into laughing, it was like being hit by a truck, but in a good way. It was a lot like when she gave that one smile, that real, deliciously huge smile that made you just stop and wonder if anything on earth could be more rewarding than making Cordelia smile.
“Cordy.” More laughter. “Cordelia.” What the hell was so damn funny about a noodle in his hair. This was getting a little ridiculous. And she really didn’t appear to be stopping with the laughing anytime soon. He wished he could make her stop laughing.
I wish I could grab her and push her against the refrigerator and smother those giggles with my mouth..
Angel shook his head violently from side to side to clear the image from his mind. These, well fantasies if he was being honest, they had been bothering him at the oddest times.for almost a month now. Ever since the ballet and Groo and Cordy’s returning early from vacation.
Don’t go there Angel. Come on, this is why you suggested this cooking lesson in the first place. To keep your mind off less.wholesome things.
Cordelia was still laughing so Angel did the only thing he could think to do (besides the up-against-the-fridge action). He reached into the bowl of noodles and chucked a handful at her.
It was beautiful really. Several landed in her hair, one tangled around her ear. Three lucky strands now rested in the v-neck of her shirt. And that perfect, outraged wail of indignation. It was like music. And of course, the laughter had stopped.
One second her eyes were blank with shock. Then they narrowed, in that sexy, dangerous, Queen C way of hers and Angel gulped. Before he could blink, Cordy’s two hands were grabbing for the bowl of pasta. She wouldn ‘t. I mean, that was her dinner. She wouldn’t-
Warm, wet noodles were everywhere. On his shoes. On his clothes. Nestled in the perfectly gelled spikes of his hair. He stood silent, unmoving.
Cordelia’s smile faded as she saw the expression on his face. Tossing the bowl of pasta had seemed like such a good idea. And he did look funny. But also, maybe just a little bit ANGRY. Now, Cordelia knew that Angel would never actually HURT her, but hundreds of years doing evil vampy things had taught him lots and lots about revenge.
And there were just way too many weapons lying around the.
What, what had he just dumped in her hair? Cordelia ran a hand thru her hair and there was a rainfall of.cheese. While she had been in her haze, imagining all sorts of vengeful atrocities, Angel had dumped the thing of Parmesan cheese in her hair.
At that point, Cordy saw his laughing form leaning on the counter and she would have joined him, would have laughed the whole silly thing off and called it a draw. But then she realized that this wasn’t a tiny generic can of Parmesan cheese. This was the gourmet stuff, the kind Wolfgang Puck had recommended, the kind SHE had bought.
This, oh this wasn’t to be taken lightly.
She smiled, making him think that they were even now, that the little food fight had ended before it really began. She shrugged her shoulders in what she hoped was an endearing “I-give-up” kind of way. She reached for her glass of Diet Coke. She raised her hand and took a sip. Then she tossed the contents in his face.
Angel realized he should have known better, realized that he shouldn’t be surprised there was Diet Coke dripping down his forehead and into his eyes. His Cordelia would never let something end without getting off a parting shot.
Okay so she’s not “my Cordelia” but still, I mean, after three years, I shoulda known there would be some sort of counter-attack.
“Very funny Cordy. Say, is that a new shirt you’re wearing?” Angel asked while grabbing a spoon and stirring the pot of spaghetti sauce.
“Yes actually, haven’t figured out how I am going to pay for it b-.” Wait a second. He was up to something. Changing the subject, trying to look all innocent there stirring the sauce. The very red sauce.
Sauce that would be very stainy if it got on a certain person’s new shirt. “Angel, don’t.” Angel had raised a spoonful of the sauce up and made like he was going to taste it. “Angel, I know what you are about to do, but don’t even think-” .
It was too late of course. Cordelia stared down at the spattering of red across her shirt. As she thought about dry cleaning bills, she became enraged. She reached for the bowl of salad and started lobbing croutons at him, followed by some of the larger slices of tomatoes. When she ran out of ammunition, Angel stopped ducking and just flung two more spoonfuls of sauce.
Cordy frantically searched for something else to use as a weapon while trying unsuccessfully to evade the pasta sauce he kept hurling her way. At a loss, she grabbed the only thing nearby.a bottle of her Kraft Fat Free Italian Salad Dressing. She popped open the top and gripped the bottle firmly with two hands.
Ready, Aim, Fire. And she hosed him down. Aww, poor baby didn’t seem to like that much. And Italian dressing, that could sometimes taste awful garlicy. Cordy let a snort of laughter slip out. Angel growled. He stepped closer and grabbed her forearms, yanking her towards him.
Oh dear God, it’s like something out of a trashy romance novel.
“Cordelia, I’ve always secretly wanted to do this to you.” Oh sweet Jesus, he is going to kiss me. He shouldn’t, we shouldn’t, and if he doesn’ t do it soon I’m going to have to do it for him.
She closed her eyes. Her heart was racing. She took a deep breath.and smelled something sweet. Angel, he smelled like.blueberries. At that last second , warning alarms went off in her head, but it was too late.
Before she could open her eyes, everything got very.gooey. She wiped at her eyes and face. It was pie. The pie she and Fred had pulled out of the oven over an hour ago. The pie she had helped make with her very own hands.the pie she had slaved over, dammit!
Angel stood back and looked at his handy work. Not all that much had stayed on her face and most of that was the whipped cream. Still, she did seem very, well, blue. Half of the pie seemed to have stuck to her right arm. And gobs of blue covered her shoes. It was funny, but not as funny as when it happened to people on television.
Maybe cause the people on TV didn’t have to face Cordelia’s icy glare. Listen to the slow meticulous beating of her heart as she planned how she would retaliate. Angel realized the irony of the situation. He had once been a feared creature of the night, who terrorized helpless girls that looked like Cordy. He would have once made her cower in terror. Hell, he once had. And now, now the former “Scourge of Europe”, well he wasn’t cowering, but it was pretty damn close.
She reached for the long loaf of French bread and Angel ran,