Part 4
Later that night…
There’s something that happens when a woman puts on a dress. The right dress, that’s really all it takes. And suddenly, what was once hidden, or overlooked, comes alive. The very air around her crackles with an enticing electricity that pulls at everyone, seducing the male eye like a siren’s song.
She feels it too. That much is obvious. She walks differently, moves with a languid grace that even she wasn’t aware she had. Her femininity becomes something alive, something that pulses through her. It brightens her eyes. It makes her skin glow. All because she has put on a dress.
There’s something else that routinely happens whenever a woman puts on a dress. She wants to be told how she looks. Repeatedly.
“Are you sure?” Fred asked Angel for the third time. She stood very still in the middle of his room. Her apprehension was palpable, beneath the thin skin of her chest he could almost make out the rapid beating of her heart. From where he sat on the edge of his bed, Angel struggled to hold back a groan.
He tried to think of what to say, the perfect words that would convince her, so that she would stop asking. For a moment, Angel stayed silent. The soft sounds of Norah Jones filled the room and Connor cooed along, while Fred waited, looking down at her hands, like she didn’t recognize the long, tapered pink-tipped fingers as her own.
“Fred, you look very nice.” Angel spoke slowly, hoping the gravity and intonation in his voice would convey all that she needed to hear. Beyond “nice” and “pretty,” his mind was drawing a blank. You’d think with all the time I spent reading, I would be better with the adjectives.
Fred did look nice. More than nice, in fact. She had always had a subtle beauty. There was something innately girlish and sprite-like about her that it took men time to notice. Angel’s artistic eye had seen it almost from the beginning. Fred’s lure had always been that subtlety. She was the kind of woman whose layers would have to be unwrapped in order to be fully appreciated.
But tonight, tonight all those secrets had been laid open. Tonight the wrapping paper was just as pretty as the present it concealed.
In the soft muted light of his room, everything about Fred seemed to sparkle, from her eyes to the borrowed baubles on her ears to the high heels she teetered on. She’d nervously gnawed most of her lipstick off, but in Angel’s mind, it only added to the look. Fred didn’t need it anyway, the pretty blush that had risen charmingly on the apples of her cheeks spoke volumes more than makeup ever could. She looked delicate and innocent and…
on the verge. Like she isn’t sure what’s going to happen, but she can’t wait until it does. Angel’s lips curved up at the thought, his earlier annoyance fading. “You look very very nice,” he told her. I used two very’s that time. That should do it.
“What about my hair?” Fred asked. Her heavy hair was pulled up in a classic twist, bringing attention to her slender neck. Better not tell her that though. People never seem to like neck compliments from vampires. I don’t know why. We’re connoisseurs of the neck. It’s like an opinion from an expert. “Is something wrong with my hair?” Fred asked when he didn’t answer.
“Oh. No. No it’s all there,” Angel assured her. He understood follicle concern, at least.
“Good, good,” Fred muttered to herself, nodding rapidly. Glancing down she carefully smoothed the dress over her hips. She looked up. “Cordy picked out my dress. Do you like my dress?”
Angel had been worried about the dress. He knew Cordelia had picked it out. Cordelia had a certain style, one that her confidence and stature allowed her, but one that would not necessarily translate well on little Fred.
He’d gotten even more worried after what Gunn had said at dinner. He’d made it sound like the dress was verging on indecent. Angel didn’t want Fred running around town in some tiny scrap of material. And not just because she would look cheap.
God knows what it would have done to Wesley and Gunn.
Angel had been noticing Wes’s growing affection for the physicist for weeks, and now, with Gunn’s admission at dinner…I have a sneaking suspicion there’s going to be a fistfight over who kisses who at midnight. Luckily, Fred’s dress wasn’t anything like he’d feared. Like always, Cordelia had come through.
It was short, that much was true. It barely grazed the middle of her thighs, which momentarily gave Angel pause. At least it’s not too tight. The dress was held up by fragile spaghetti straps and the black material glittered unobtrusively whenever Fred moved. But it worked. Cordelia had somehow found a way to bring out a side of Fred Angel had never noticed before. Sensuality.
“It’s a very pretty dress Fred,” he said simply.
“But how does it look when I turn?” she immediately asked. She started spinning around in wobbly circles, unused to balancing on three-inch heels.Okay, now that just seems like a disaster waiting to happen. With a shake of his head and a vampiric burst of speed, Angel shot off the bed and grabbed her, stopping her before she got too dizzy.
When he let go, she lurched precariously to the left but caught herself. “I got it, I got it.”
“Fred, you need to calm down,” Angel said. He took her by the shoulders, mostly for emphasis, but also to keep her vertical. “You look great.” From the direction of the crib, the baby chirped quietly. “See. Connor agrees. And he has excellent taste in women,” Angel joked. Hey, he can’t get enough of Cordelia. Sounds like good taste to me.
“It’s just,” she said, not looking at him, “it’s just that I feel like a princess.” She ran her tongue over her now-bare lip. “I mean, I know I’m not a head-turner,” she told him, staring at his shirt collar.
Angel tipped her chin up. “Fred, I guarantee, heads will definitely be turning tonight.” I can think of two heads in particular. And then they’re going to tear each other’s head off fighting over her. Maybe I shouldn’t let them take any weapons tonight.
Blissfully unaware of Angel’s growing fear about an impeding bloodbath, Fred went on. “I mean, I’m not like Cordelia. You should see what happens when we go out.” Angel felt his hands fist. Please Fred, I don’t want to know what happens.. I already have anger management issues.
“She makes guys all speechless and stuttery,” Fred said.
Tell me about it. I was Mister Smooth Bad Guy for hundreds of years and two minutes with Cordy has me thinking I need speech therapy.
“Even in this dress, I could never be like that.” Fred was starting to ramble now. “She’s gorgeous. And I can’t believe she thinks she’s fat. I would die to have that body.”
Angel nodded. I’d die to have that body too. Under me. No, wait, on top of me. No, pressed against the wall of the shower. No, I know, under me but on top of the desk. That’s it. Or maybe we could do that move from the Kama Sutra. I’ve been wanting to try that since the mid 1800’s. It’s not like it’s impossible. Cordy did used to be a cheerleader.
“Fred, you won’t just be turning heads tonight,” Angel said, taking her hand in his, “you’ll be stopping hearts.” He put her hand on his chest. “See, not beating. You’re doing it already.” She giggled. Angel brought her hand up and lightly kissed the top of it. “You really do look lovely.” Fred smiled shyly as more color flooded into her face.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” they heard a teasing voice say. They both turned to see Cordy smiling widely just outside the room. Fred giggled and took her hand back.
Her eyes went wide as Cordelia entered. “Oh. Oh Cordelia. You—”
“Oh no,” Cordy cut her off. “You Fred. Tonight it’s all you.” Cordelia moved closer, looking her over with a practiced eye. “You look unbelievable,” she told her shorter friend. “You’ll be making all the guys drool tonight.”
“Really?” Fred asked.
“Of course. And speaking of drooling men,” Cordy grinned and brushed a strand of Fred’s hair into place, “Gunn and Wes are downstairs in the lobby, VERY anxiously awaiting your arrival.”
Fred couldn’t contain her self-conscious smile. “Oh, oh I better go then.”
“Well yeah.” Cordy pointed at Angel. “You stay up here much longer and Mister I Have a Permanent Soul Now might try and put the moves on you.” Both women smiled at Angel. He just stood there, unblinking, a silent statue.
“Okay, well,” Fred said, grabbing her sparkly clutch purse from the night table. “Bye you guys.” She waved nervously at them, stepping out into the hall. “Happy New Year,” she called out as she left. Cordelia moved to the doorway to watch Fred negotiate the stairs.
Angel had wanted to tell Fred Happy New Year. He’d wanted to repeat how nice she looked. Maybe remind her to keep Gunn and Wesley under control. Unfortunately, it appeared he had lost the ability to form words. Why would he be able to speak—since the moment he’d heard her voice and turned around, Angel had barely been barely able to THINK coherently. And his knees were suspiciously weak.
The dress was red. Of course she’d pick red. Because the world is against me. I mean, I knew a long time ago that God had forsaken me. But I never thought He’d decide to torture me like this. The strapless burgundy dress was slim-fitting, hugging every inch of Cordelia’s body from the tops of her barely-covered breasts to the tips of her toes. This was a dress designed to entice.
While she had gushed over Fred’s dress, Angel had watched Cordelia as if in a trance. He knew at one point they had said something to him, or at least about him, but he could barely hear them. And then, when Cordy walked back to the door to watch Fred walk away, he saw…
There’s no back. Does she know half of her dress is missing? Angel closed his eyes, thinking he was seeing it wrong, but when he re-opened them, all that glorious skin was still there. The back plunged dangerously low, barely covering her tattoo. It was a testament to modern technology that the dress was somehow managing to stay on.
She’s…God, she’s…she’s not going out like that. She can’t. Angel shuddered. He hadn’t needed Fred to describe what happened when Cordy went out. He’d seen it before. Her easy careless sexuality entranced everyone in the room. Men sat up straighter, adjusted ties, debated with friends over who would approach her.
Usually Angel’s glare had them backing off, and when it didn’t, a few choice words sent them running. But I won’t be there tonight.
“Angel? Did you hear what I said? Cordy asked as she glided back in the room and over to the full-length mirror in the corner. Doesn’t she think it’s odd that I put a mirror in here? Doesn’t she ever wonder why? She examined herself carefully, adjusting the glittering necklace. “Angel, didn’t Fred look incredible?”
“Hmmm? What? Yeah. Yeah, incredible,” he managed to say without squeaking.
“I feel so proud,” Cordelia gushed, wiping at a tiny lipstick smudge. “Like we’re parents sending our daughter off to the prom or something.”
Angel was poleaxed by her comment, nearly bowled over as her casually uttered words sent a barrage of images racing though his mind.
Cordelia, lying on his bed, propped up by pillows, nursing a baby girl with a fuzz of dark hair.
Angel awkwardly trying to place a pink bow on the head of a squirming toddler in purple overalls.
Angel and Cordelia nervously holding hands in a school auditorium as their little superstar danced clumsily on stage.
“Helloooo? Are you in there?” Cordy snapped her fingers in front of his face.
“What? Sorry,” he mumbled.
She gave him a sympathetic look. “Buffy flashbacks?”
“Huh?” He hadn’t been expecting that.
“You know, cause I mentioned prom,” Cordelia explained.
“Oh,” Angel nodded. “No. Not exactly.”
“Okay,” she said. Thankfully she looked like she wasn’t going to press the issue. She took a step back and held her arms up. “Well, go on. Tell me how I look. Shower me with praise.”
“You look….” Angel trailed off. How am I supposed to find a word to describe her. There are no words.
“Proportional?” Cordy filled in, repeating what he had said to her the day before.
“Very proportional,” Angel agreed. “And…”
“How about achingly beautiful? Worthy of the cover of Vogue?”
“Sure,” he said. “If that’s the look you’re going for.”
She smiled widely up at him. “Ahhh, now that’s my Angel. Always such an ego-booster.”
She didn’t seem upset, but Angel was. He hated that he couldn’t have simply told her how she looked. Made her blush. Let her know what she did to him. She was right. She is achingly beautiful. Angel knew this, because right then, it hurt to look at her. It would have been easier if he hadn’t had to see her.
“Cordy, what are you doing here anyway?” he asked.
“Oh! What with your clumsy attempt at a compliment, I completely forgot!” She wagged her finger at him. “Don’t move.” Ha! Like I could. She raced back to the door, grabbed the bag she’d apparently left just outside and then ran back to him. Unlike Fred, Cordy moved like she’d been born in heels. “Here you go,” she proudly presented the bag to him.
Angel was never quite sure what to do when people gave him things. He awkwardly took the bag, but didn’t look inside. “What’s this?”
She rolled her eyes when he didn’t just open the bag. “Supplies. For boys night,” Cordy gestured to him and over to where Connor lay. “I splurged on the good stuff. Tonight my friend, you will be drinking lambs blood, which Harvey the Butcher says is the caviar of the blood world. And I bought that expensive baby formula that Sarah Jessica Parker feeds her kid. Connor will be slurpin’ like the rich and famous!”
He didn’t know what to say. He’d never met anyone like her. Every time he thought he finally knew Cordelia, she managed to surprise him.
“Cordy, you didn’t have to—”
“Sure I did,” she shrugged, taking the bag back from him. “If my boys are spending the night in, they are going to spend it in style.” Cordelia put the bag down on the bed and started digging through it. “And—”
“There’s more?” Angel wondered.
She handed him a videotape. “And I also brought you ‘Steel Magnolias,” she said. Angel opened his mouth and Cordy promptly slapped her hand over it. He ached to dart his tongue out and taste her.
“Look Angel, I know it’s your favorite movie, I’ve caught you watching every time it’s on, so don’t even bother to deny it. And lets skip the part about how it’s this big secret and if I tell anyone you’ll chain me to a wall and make with the torture.” She let him go.
“Cordelia,” Angel said though clenched teeth, even as his mouth started to water at the mention of chains. Not so much into the torture anymore, but chains, now that’s a nice idea.
“Angel, I promise I won’t tell,” Cordelia said, raising her right hand. After a beat she dropped it and asked witheringly, “You don’t cry EVERY time you watch it, do you?”
Oh come on! Who doesn’t cry during Steel Manolias? With the diabetes? And the way the husband comes home and the baby’s crying and Julia Roberts is just lying there, clutching the phone? It’s heartbreaking.
“Of course I don’t cry,” Angel said. She looked at him speculatively, like she wasn’t sure she believed him. “No more than you cried at the end of ‘Rudy,” he added.
Immediately her eyes began to water. “His father finally got to see him play football for Notre Dame. It was beautiful.”
They looked at each other and started laughing. Jealous that he was being ignored, Connor gave a little yelp for attention. It worked. Cordy was standing over the crib before Angel could blink.
“Hey kiddo,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “Guess what Connor. One day, when you’re older, you can watch ‘Steel Magnolias’ and sob your little heart out, just like Daddy. Won’t that be fun?”
“Hey!” Angel cried out, insulted.
“Ahh,” Connor said soberly, like he didn’t care much for the plan.
“Don’t worry, I’m just kidding,” Cordy soothed. “I would never make you watch that stupid girly movie.” She moved his teddy bear closer and fussed with his blanket. “You have fun tonight sweetie.” She leaned over more and brushed a soft kiss on his temple. “Happy New Year.”
Cordy straightened and turned around, inhaling sharply when she almost ran right into him. He was close enough now to see the way her pulse fluttered, to notice the flare of something indefinable in her eyes.
“You have a happy New Year too, ‘kay big guy,” she said softly. There was a hint of uncertainty in her voice. She gnawed on her bottom lip, unconsciously mimicking what Fred had done earlier.
The next song on the C.D. came on. Norah’s sultry voice launched into “Don’t Know Why” and Cordelia started to lean closer to him and then paused.She kissed Connor…is she going to kiss me too? Angel stood perfectly still, even as blood rushed screaming though his body, he kept still, waiting to see what she would do.
Cordelia gulped audibly and Angel closed his eyes and warm dry lips pressed tentatively on his cheek, just left of his mouth. A split second of softness and then it was gone.
Angel opened his eyes and there she was, right in front of him. And she was blushing. He’d never seen her blush before. She was beautiful when she blushed.
Angel was debating internally whether he should kiss her back when a car honked outside. Cordelia briefly turned to the window and then back to him.
“That’s my ride,” she practically whispered. “I have to go.” But she didn’t. She just glanced down at the baby and than back at Angel.
“They’re waiting for me,” she told him.
But Cordy seemed to be waiting for Angel. To do what, he didn’t know. Her eyes seemed to be asking something, but he didn’t have a clue what she wanted. Outside the car honked again. He panicked.
“Have fun,” Angel muttered in a suddenly raspy voice.
“Right. Yeah,” she said, eyes flickering, before she stepped around him and walked out, closing the door behind her.
As Norah Jones sang “You’ll be on my mind, Forever,” Angel stood there, rubbing his hand over his heart, trying to ease the tightness in his chest.
