25: Angel’s Mansion, Crawford Street, Central Sunnydale
If speed-showering existed as a sport, Angel would’ve been declared its MVP. Clean and dressed again, he was back downstairs in record time. He was surprised to find her there despite her saying she would stay. Finding her curled up on the couch, legs tucked beside her and her shoes on the floor suggested that Cordelia was not planning to escape at the first opportunity.
“That was fast,” Cordelia looked up from the book of poetry she found all on its lonesome in one corner of the room. Noticing Angel’s gaze on the small volume, she joked, “It was this or Dante’s Inferno.”
Thirty minutes went by before they even got around to discussing the mission again. That was Cordelia’s cue to bring up her beer bottle-smashing routine and Angel’s to voice his opinion on the matter. Unlike last night, when they were still surrounded by demons all too eager to eavesdrop or Scoobies who would enjoy hearing it a little too much, he now had a chance to talk to her one on one.
The relaxed atmosphere between them tensed up again, a dark cloud settling over his mood. “You had no business jumping in like that.”
“Hah! It was my leg he was pawing,” Cordelia cried out with a gasp of false rage. “You try getting felt up and see how you like it. Pfft….you’re a vampire,” she rolled her eyes at the sudden thought. “You probably would like it.”
“Cordy,” his gravelly tones issued a warning against delving into insults.
The mischievous lights dancing in her eyes gave her away. A wide grin appeared just before she threw her head back to laugh at him, her silky hair flowing freely around her shoulders.
Angel watched her for a few seconds from his place by the hearth until he finally said, “I don’t want you hurt. That was risky. You’re not trained for situations like that.”
Bristling up again, Cordelia tucked her hair behind her ears and then crossed her arms as she glared back at him. “Guess I missed the Barfight 101 class at school this semester.”
“Cordy—,” he began again.
“Don’t Cordy me,” Cordelia demanded as she leapt off the couch. Bending down, she grabbed one shoe and pointing it reminded him, “So I’m not a slayer.” She curled her leg, sliding her foot into the shoe. Then toeing the other upright put it on. “Maybe I didn’t wake up one day and discover I was psycho super chick, but don’t you dare tell me I’m not cut out for this. Just because you want to be with Buffy doesn’t mean I’ll quit to make it happen.”
He had not moved a muscle during her tirade, not a twitch. Cordelia flashed another angry glare in his direction, flipped her hair and headed toward the door. Angel had closed it to stop the light from spreading and to keep the warmth of the low fire circulating. Now he reached it first, hand spread wide against it to block her exit.
Whirling, she found herself face to face with him as he leaned in close. “Let me out.”
Angel did not budge. With his broad shoulders and long frame forming an impenetrable barrier, he might as well have been a brick wall. Though intense, his brown eyes pleaded understanding as a twinge of pain sounded on his lips, “This has nothing to do with Buffy and you know it.”
“That’s so wrong it’s not funny,” some of the fire went out of her eyes as she responded. “It’s always about Buffy. You’re not over her. That’s why you still patrol with us.”
They stood close enough that Cordelia’s breath whispered across his skin as she spoke. Angel felt the hot press of her palm against his belly, her warmth seeping through the thin black sweater. He did not move at all for the few seconds that she touched him, too focused on the contact, its slight pressure and the subtle slide of her fingertips against the softness of his sweater and the contours beneath.
“I get that, Angel. More than you realize,” Cordelia added softly and Angel’s eyes widened a fraction as he considered her situation in comparison to his own. Both of them experienced a similarly painful end to their relationships.
Angel could still feel the steel sliding through his chest when Buffy thrust that sword into him and sentenced him to a lifetime in hell. Though his return came with the hope that it could be forgotten, so far that had proved impossible. He supposed the accident that led to Cordelia’s breakup with Xander left more than just physical scars behind. As with him, some aches did not fade as easily as flesh healed.
When she had finally made her point, Cordelia stepped away moving back toward the hearth where its flames danced across the logs. Almost a minute passed before Angel’s uneasy apology sounded from across the room. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” Cordelia told him, turning around again to see him with his back to the door, leaning his big body against it. “Comparing me to Buffy is not of the good.”
Considering he hadn’t been the one making comparisons, Angel reminded her, “I don’t expect you to be Buffy— or Faith,” he added for good measure, “but I want you to be careful out there. Talk to Giles about including you in the girls’ training sessions.”
“Pfft! Like they’d want me there. Giles already has his hands full,” Cordelia knew that idea was going down the drain. “Besides, Willow and Xander don’t do that.”
He pushed away from the door with a booted foot, walking forward to lean on the back of a chair. Staring right into her eyes, he said, “I don’t give a damn about Willow and Xander.” That was not entirely true, but he had a point. “Neither of them is my patrol partner. You are and I’d prefer to keep you in one piece.”
Cordelia kinda liked that idea, too. “So whatcha gonna do about it?” She strolled up to the chair and lifted her knee onto the cushion leaning toward him.
Face to face again, he could see the sparkle had returned to her eyes. Angel was suddenly aware of the feeling she had led him into this idea, but found himself suggesting it anyway. “I have a room in the basement for training,” he said only to remember that he had told her that when she arrived. “You could…I could—”
“Train me up? Teach me to kick ass with style?” a grin accompanied her words. “Great idea, Angel, I accept. We should start tomorrow.”
Angel stood up and scrubbed a hand over his face wondering how he got into these things. All he had intended to do was caution Cordelia against getting too involved in the actual fighting. Still, it was a good idea to provide some defensive training just in case he could not get to her fast enough.
“Since I’m starving and you probably have nothing but blood in the refrigerator,” Cordelia told him, “I guess I’m going to go find something to eat for dinner before we have to head out on patrol.”
He stood still senses attuning to something beyond human perception. “The sun has already set.”
“Crap! I forgot to put the top up on the car,” Cordelia had not planned to stay this long. She had no intention of driving around after dark providing creepy crawlies easy access.
Angel paused at the news, hand on the doorknob, asking curiously, “A convertible?”
“Just something I borrowed for the weekend.”
Guiding her down the dark hall again, Angel opened up the front door to see the classic convertible with its sleek lines and shiny finish parked at the bottom of his front steps. Cordelia watched in bemusement as Angel reacted with typical male aplomb by giddily jaunting down the steps to check out the car.
It was an old Plymouth Belvedere GTX. Black. Still in good shape. Shiny. Cordelia would prefer to be driving around in her Corvette, but at least it had four wheels that worked.
Angel seemed to be slightly more impressed.
“Niiiiiiiiice,” Angel commented as he ran his hands over the leather interior.
A husky laugh escaped as Cordelia told him, “That’s what Xander said.”
Angel shot her an annoyed look. He did not much like having anything in common with the boy. He swiftly backed away from the car and shoved his hands into his pockets. The scowl on his face was adorable rather than intimidating. Cordelia simply lifted up her keys and gave them a sharp jangle.
“Want to drive?”
As she dropped the keys into his hand, Angel asked, “Did he get to drive?”
They walked around the front of the car side by side. “Pfft! While you were in hell did it ever freeze over?” Cordelia sat down and swung her legs inside.
“No,” he answered quizzically while closing the passenger door behind her.
“Exactly,” quipped Cordelia. A little light bulb flashed in Angel’s head and he gave her a smile that chased away all thoughts of Xander Harris.