4: Sunnydale High School, One Week Later
Mr. Whitaker’s creative lesson on the modern legal system did not stand a chance of holding Cordelia’s attention today. Using the fictional title character from ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’ as the defendant, half of the class was to prosecute Jack for trespassing, theft, destruction of property and murder. The remaining students took the stance that Jack was an innocent victim of his poor station in life and were assigned the task of defending him.
As her head buzzed with thoughts that had nothing to do with school, the chalk on the blackboard simply blurred into a fuzzy abstract. She wondered what new excuse Buffy would come up with tonight.
Nearly a week had gone by since her return to Scoobiage. During that time, Cordelia agreed to go along with Mr. Giles’s suggestion about focusing on their need for research. No one actually questioned her right to be there anymore, not to her face anyway, but Giles expressed the group’s ‘mutual concerns’ about the fragile state of her health and readiness to resume patrols.
Basically, Cordelia was convinced that Buffy did not want her to tag along because it would make Willow uncomfortable. Fine. She was back because she needed to be, not only because she enjoyed seeing the guilt in their eyes every time Willow or Xander looked in her direction.
That was just a perk.
One she was frequently faced with considering that the two of them also stayed in the library to help Giles out on their research project while Angel and the two slayers went out on late night patrols. It made the first couple of nights a little awkward.
Certain lying, two-faced cheaters sat on one side of the table, and she stayed on the other. Giles kept popping out of his office to check on them as if expecting to find all three of them in some girly bitch slapping fight on the floor.
Not that the thought of it wasn’t enjoyable. She was just above displays like that. “Get those hangdog looks off your faces, people. It’s depressing.” When Xander and Willow grinned in hopeful response to her perky tone, she changed her mind. “Forget it. I liked the guilt better. Resume your wallowing.”
Research proceeded despite its rocky start. Cordelia quickly saw that Willow abandoned the books in favor of the computer set up at another table. The usually chatty redhead kept strangely silent as she focused on her task. Giles remained in his office pouring through original documents and copies of ancient texts unless he was checking on their progress.
Cordelia and Xander were left as research buddies. Neither managed to stay silent for more than a couple of minutes. The doofus managed to make her forget that she was supposed to be mad at him. Too bad it caused a stitch in her side when he made her laugh. That reminded her quickly enough.
Yet they managed to fall into a pattern where they could interact without bringing up the reasons for their breakup. The week went by slowly. Despite the fact that Giles seemed pleased that they were piecing together the puzzle that surrounded the prophecy, it was boring as hell. Cordelia was not used to being so idle.
Last night, it was still early in the evening when she decided it was time to revolt. With the whole gang there, she was back on the stairs with Angel. She had dropped another leather-bound volume onto the growing pile at her feet.
“I’ve had enough of these musty old books.”
“You’re quitting?” Buffy sounded almost eager about it.
“No,” Cordelia remembered correcting her. “Duh! I want patrol with you guys tomorrow night. You said it yourself that you need more eyes and ears out there watching for the first signs of the prophecy. I’m tired of sitting here collecting splinters.”
Even though she and Xander had struck up a cease-fire, Cordelia chose not to make a big deal out of reclaiming her usual spot at the table during the larger group meetings. Sitting next to Angel became automatic after the first couple of times. And when she frequently rushed in at the last minute, he simply moved over to make room for her.
He would tell her what she missed, but afterward their conversation tended to be one-sided ninety-nine percent of the time. Every now and then, he would help her out with some extended translation around one of the key words Giles had given them for their search.
Further attempts at conversation tended to result in the odd grunt, irritation, or a blank stare as if she had said something completely alien. She was starting to think that Angel had lived in a cave for the past couple of centuries. For someone who seemed to know so much he was clueless about… everything.
Standing up to rub a hand over the ache, she muttered to Angel, “I don’t know how you handle sitting here every night. Aren’t you stiff?”
A half-turn toward him came just in time to catch him staring at the slide of her fingers over her bottom. He shifted on the stairs, sounding out a soft gruff complaint, raising his eyes to hers. “Sometimes.”
One word and her imagination took off to places it had no business wandering. The hint of innuendo in those rich male tones was not real. Couldn’t be. This was Angel. Mr Stoic himself would not volunteer any details about his sexy bits with her. Admittedly, though, she had reason to suspect that one particular man part was in no way itty bitty.
What was she doing thinking about Angel in that way? And had he just checked her out?
Holy hell.
Talk about letting your imagination run away with you. Her body clenched in reaction, a hot wave gathering force and leaving her tingling. With extreme effort, she tried to turn her curiosity off and her apparently dirty mind toward other subjects.
This was Angel. Mr. Most Likely to Turn Evil if He Gets Some. Not a contender on her list of suitable replacements for anyone else who might happen to be in the room.
The memory of Angelus tackling her to the ground that one night also brought to mind the sensation of his muscular body pressing into hers. Terrifying, yet hot. He had been going to kill her, but took a little too long to toy with his prey before the Slayer showed up to the rescue.
Getting turned on by a vampire who once planned to rip out your throat was all kinds of wrong, Cordelia counseled herself, even while trying to determine if Angel was only talking about leg cramps and back aches. Scrutinizing his calm expression, she decided he was really good at poker faces because she could not tell what he was thinking.
“Dead Boy’s already a stiff,” Xander called out from behind the four-inch thick tome of the Vampyr and putting a different spin on it. Either he completely missed out on the flash of tension between Angel and Cordelia, or he was ingeniously trying to diffuse it.
Just in case anyone had any inkling about the direction of her thoughts, Cordelia gave Angel’s shoulder a pat of mock comfort as she tried to find a way to play off Xander’s bad joke. “That’s right, undead guy. Stiffness just comes naturally for walking corpses.”
“Think so, Cor?” Faith, who was performing stretching exercises in the middle of the floor instead of doing research, paused to glance over her shoulder at Angel. A dimple hollowed both cheeks as she grinned conspiratorially, as she made it perfectly clear that she knew exactly which direction Cordelia’s thoughts had taken. “There’s one way to find out. Check it out for yourself since you seem to be the hands-on type.”
Someone harrumphed in disapproval trying to call their attention back to research, but Cordelia wasted no time telling Faith what she thought of that inflammatory suggestion.
It didn’t matter that her fingers itched to explore Angel’s long, hard frame and anything else long or hard that might happen to find its way into her curious grasp. That was just between her and her almost forgotten Angel fantasies.
Recognizing her meaning came far too quickly and Cordelia could not stop her colorful imagination from adding images of post-mortem rigidity to her previous list of vampire topics to avoid. It did not help that Buffy stood just over there with her face looking like a thundercloud. Cordelia had no real designs on Angel or his stiffness issues. Even if he was a gorgeous hunk of salty goodness, he was still a vampire.
Still, she did not want Faith’s words to give anyone ideas.
“Geez, Faith, you’re such a skank,” she snapped before reminding herself not to capsize the already rocky boat she had found herself in since her return. One slayer frenemy at a time was more than enough. “Does everything have to be about sex?”
Faith only laughed and totally let her get away with it. “Life is short, Cor. Getting laid might make you less uptight.”
“Eww!” and “Gross, Faith!” and “Bleh!” sounded out from the peanut gallery sitting at the table nearby along with a decidedly vexed sigh from Giles who lifted his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Beside her, Angel conspicuously cleared his throat, the rumble drawing her attention. A subtle ripple beneath her hand drew her gaze from the dark mischief glinting in his eyes, as if he was enjoying the idea, too. Then suddenly, Cordelia realized that her simple pat had evolved into a slow massage as her hand rubbed a circle over his soft black sweater smoothing across dense ridges of rock-hard muscle and bone.
Snatching her hand away, Cordelia took a rapid step back, tripping over several books piled up on the floor. A shriek burst to life and withered away just as fast when Angel leapt up from his seated position on the stairs to catch her mid fall. She held onto his arms grasping for purchase, but his big hands quickly set her to rights restoring her balance.
“What are you doing?” Self-preservation made her panic as her softer curves crushed into his hard angles. It felt good, safe, and terrifying all at the same time. God, he even smelled delicious. For a second, Cordelia closed her eyes and breathed him in. “I’m fine. Let go.”
Characteristically, Angel kept his opinions to himself, and merely released her. His eyes were on hers, hooded and dark, his lips tightening up as he resumed his position on the stairs. No comment? Fine. Cordelia really did not need to know what was going on in his head right now.
She stared back at him, angry with herself for feeling embarrassed, foolish, and most of all, frustrated. Angel was so out of bounds that he should not even register on her radar. Pushing all of it aside, she raised her chin a notch, and grunted, “Thanks for the rescue.”
Angel merely handed her a new book and nodded toward the open space beside him. If he had any idea at the oh-so-wrong direction of her thoughts, and thanks to Faith, she guessed that he did, it seemed like he was giving her a pass. Considering the frequent jostling of knees and elbows as they shared the step, Cordelia hoped this was just a sign of momentary insanity and not renewed attraction for yet another guy whose heart was already taken.
The rational part of her mind told Cordelia that Angel would never pounce on her, but it was too easy to picture those fangs flashing white in the darkness as they closed in on her neck. Hello, she liked her neck intact, thank you very much. Fortunately, from what she had seen over the past few days, Angel was not anywhere near being happy enough to lose his soul.
Buffy kept him at a distance and appeared to be just as miserable. If their misery made Cordelia feel safer she was all for sticking with the status quo. No one needed Angelus on the loose again.
When Cordelia took too long to sit beside him, Angel finally spoke up. “You could always squeeze in at the table.” There was just a trace of a challenge in his tone as if he wanted her gone, but also wondered if she had the guts to stay. “Giles could get you a chair. I’m sure it would be more comfortable.”
“No such luck, big guy,” Cordelia snorted while noting that he had actually strung three sentences together. Angel just preferred to be alone despite the fact that, like her, he could not seem to stay away from these Scooby sessions. If it was important enough for him to say something, it could not just be her comfort he was thinking about. Maybe he thought Buffy would not like it if she stayed. “There’s even less room over there. I’ll put up with bumping elbows with you for a while.”
Cordelia felt anxious to get back into the activity of patrolling again. Being cooped up in the library like some dusty old book was starting to get to her. Now that the prophecy date loomed closer, she planned to be more involved. Nobody here was better bait. Even if it was a lame job, at least it was hers.