The Offices of Angel Investigations
Dealing with Melissa Burns’ obsessed former fiancé was a lot easier for Angel than finding a way to get back into Cordelia’s good graces.
She seemed focused on Doyle’s attentions for the rest of the case. Though Angel had to admit she never gave their client any reason to doubt that he was trustworthy in the hero department when it came to saving her from Ronald, the psychic surgeon who could dismember himself piece by piece and control every aspect of those separate body parts.
Watching Cordelia fix Doyle’s collar in the middle of their efforts to secure the apartment distracted Angel for several minutes of self-pity before he got back on track. He didn’t like Cordelia touching Doyle any more than he liked Doyle flirting with Cordelia.
He didn’t like anything that gave them the opportunity to be together no matter how ordinary that might be. That included the simple task of them going to the bank the next morning.
“See,” Cordelia waved the check under Angel’s nose, a happy trill sounding in her voice, “you can save the damsel in distress and make decent money. Is this a great country or what?”
Doyle grinned at her enthusiasm, easily sucked right in by it. “Let’s march down to the bank and deposit this beauty.”
Despite the churning jealousy, even Angel found himself somewhat amused by their eager reaction to actual dollar signs. Pointing out the plan needed rethinking, Angel quipped, “Go ahead Doyle. I think I’ll stay here and not burst into flames.”
“Oh, right. You’re pretty much the night deposit guy,” Doyle said missing the dark look that followed. Being unable to go out meant Doyle would be alone with Cordelia. “Still, cause to celebrate.”
“Cordelia can help me whip up a little celebration right here while you make the bank run,” Angel suggested.
“Oh?” Raising an eyebrow in disbelief, Cordelia found it hard to picture Angel in any kind of celebration mode. Especially one that involved whipping something up. With her lips pursed, she couldn’t stop the teasing question, “Does that include one of us wearing leather?”
The look on his face was worth it, Cordelia decided. For someone who was an expert at not revealing a single emotional reaction, he looked like she’d shocked him to the core. “Are you suffering from brain-freeze, Broody? Sheesh! You’d think a vampire would develop a sense of humor after a couple centuries. Y’know…whip…leather.”
Watching Cordelia’s patented eye-roll, Angel tried to drag his thoughts out of the bedroom as images flashed through his head that he’d never considered in regard to her. Not more than once or twice anyway. Finding his voice, he clarified needlessly, “I meant cooking something special for dinner.”
Since Angel was ignoring her little joke, Cordelia let it slide in favor of reminding him that she wasn’t normally let near his kitchen except to make the occasional slice of toast. Cordelia also pointed out, “Besides, you don’t eat.”
“We’ll make an exception,” Angel shrugged. It might not be nutritional for him, but the capability and taste buds were still there.
“Ooookay,” sending Doyle an eye-roll, Cordelia figured this was a day to mark the calendar. Angel actually wanted to celebrate. “Next thing you know you’ll be out clubbing.”
Figuring he might deserve that one, he commented softly, “Don’t push it, Cordelia.”
After a smile that knocked his socks off, Cordelia turned to hand the check to Doyle. “We could use more of these.”
“And we’ll have more soon,” Doyle assured her as if he had previous knowledge of the fact. Maybe he did.
Cordelia added just for good measure, “We need more of these now. Have a vision.”
Heading for the door, Doyle was followed closely by Cordelia. He felt like a postman with a tenacious terrier on his tail. “I just can’t perform on demand.”
“We need the clients,” she sing-songed. “Have a vision.”
Doyle paused before heading out the door. “That money has corrupted you.”
Grinning at her little game, Cordelia asked him, “If I hit you on the head, will you have a vision?”
“Get away from me,” Doyle waved her off. Not that it worked. “You’re insane.”
“Am not. Now will you have a vision?” Cordelia wasn’t about to let it go.
Watching their banter and torn between smiling at it and wanting to tear Cordelia away from Doyle’s side where it was obvious she was completely comfortable, Angel looked on from the sidelines.
The Offices of Angel Investigations
Until then, there was nothing obvious going on that Angel could pinpoint. Just the light flirtatious banter between friends. It was only when Doyle approached Angel directly to ask about Cordelia that the vampire decided he’d been playing the silent observer long enough.
Putting his feet up on Angel’s desk as he sat casually in the chair across from the vampire, Doyle said, “So tell me about Cordelia.”
The simple question did more than irritate Angel because he knew it was not just a simple question at all. It stirred up every possessive instinct he had. He’d spent the last few days short on sleep trying to be in the office from the moment Cordelia arrived in the morning.
Making up excuses for either one of them to stay behind when the other went off on some appointed task was easy enough. After dark, he went with them. Even to the clubs that played too loud music and required dancing in order to keep Cordelia occupied, happy and out of Doyle’s arms at least part of the evening. It was keeping them separated during the daylight hours Angel found difficult. He couldn’t follow them in sunlight. And he was starting to run out of excuses to keep Cordelia at his side.
Kate Lockley’s Apartment
“Is that why you kept showing up at the station?” Kate asked Doyle.
Shrugging, Doyle admitted, “I’m afraid so. Coming to see you was much more pleasant than some of the other little tasks Angel came up with.”
Kate’s mouth twisted at the news, “Nice to know.”
“There’s that sarcasm again, Katie girl,” Doyle told her. “You’ll bruise my tender ego if you keep that up.”
An indelicate snort sounded from Cordelia’s direction.
Doyle complained at her response. “Katie here thinks I’m the caring sensitive type. Don’t ruin my reputation.”
“You don’t need my help for that,” said Cordelia with a grin.
Angel’s Apartment
Beethoven’s ‘Ode to Joy’ played from the phonograph accompanied by the sound of a running shower. Despite the whitewash noises, a hard knocking on the front door came through quite clearly to Angel. Moments later, he’d turned off the water and emerged from the bathroom dripping wet, wrapping a towel around his waist as he went to answer the door.
No sooner than he opened it than Cordelia stepped in pushing a couple of bags into Angel’s hands walking past him into the apartment. “Oh, God, Angel! It’s so terrible!”
Angel opened his mouth to respond, but had no clue what might cause Cordelia to suddenly appear on his doorstep looking like she was planning to stay for a very long time.
“Oh my gosh,” Cordelia turned around holding up her hands. “Don’t even look at me! I’m such a mess. I am the lowest of the lowest.”
Forget the fact that he was only wearing a towel, Angel considered that she hadn’t even noticed. Gesturing toward the open doorway as Angel stood there gawking, Cordelia added, “And you’re gonna want to get my other suitcase out there in the hall.”
Glances out the door and back to Cordelia, he still couldn’t seem to find his tongue. Though Angel wouldn’t normally feel awkward about his state of undress, he wasn’t so comfortable with the way that his body tended to react to Cordelia’s presence at its own whim. Finally, he managed to ask, “What happened?”
“My apartment,” Cordelia looked like the news was devastating. “It’s like the barrio, or the projects or whatever. I’m like the girl from the projects!”
Almost drops one of the suitcases, Angel made a grab for his towel at the same time, “I don’t know about that.”
Cordelia was so focused on her own troubles that she never noticed Angel’s struggle with his towel. “Get this. I even tried to call Doyle. He offered me a place at his apartment. But there was no answer. So here I am.”
The idea that she would go to Doyle first really bothered him. “What, I’m your last resort?”
Shrugging, realizing that Angel wasn’t exactly happy about something, Cordelia told him, “It’s just that I have no where else to go.” As Angel put down one of the bags, she went to sit down on the couch. Explaining her dilemma, “Roaches. Live ones, dead ones. All skinny feet and creepy antlers.”
Angel’s eyebrows curved upward, “Antlers?”
Cordelia stared down at the suitcase he’d just placed on the floor. “Oh, my God! I wonder how many stowed away in that bag?” This time she blinked as his towel made another attempt at hitting the floor. Damn vampire reflexes.
Not at all pleased with the idea of bugs coming along for the ride, Angel stared down at the other bag still in his arms.
Just for good measure, in case the look on Angel’s face was any indication of his willingness to allow her to stay, she told him, “Also, the water is all brown and spurty, and not hot! I am dying for a shower.”
By now, Angel had put down the other bag and was holding onto his towel with both hands as Cordelia approached him again. Her voice trembled as she told him, “I— I actually smell! Smell me,” she ordered him stepping close and turning her neck up to his view. “I never smell. I didn’t know I could. I’m just going to have to stay here until I can find a decent place, however long that takes, and when I do you are completely invited over.”
“Hey, you can just dump my stuff on the couch – or let me have the bed,” Cordelia’s plush lips curved upward. That same sweet smile she used on him that first day she wheedled him into a job. “Also, my suitcase is still in the hall.” Picking up one of her bags, she pointed toward the bedroom, “Your shower is in here, right? You have mousse? Of course you do.”
Left standing there gobsmacked, steamrolled and whatever other term he could come up with, Angel realized Cordelia had suddenly invited herself to live with him. Maybe opportunity did come knocking. Even for vampires.
He resolved suddenly that this was one opportunity he would not let slip away. Now he wouldn’t have to make up more excuses to keep Cordelia with him after dark. No matter where she went, she’d be coming right back here by bedtime.
Bedtime. That made for some interesting possibilities, Angel realized. Though his overeager thoughts were way, way ahead of any reality that he figured Cordelia would be ready for.
Carrying her suitcases through to the bedroom, Angel got dressed while she was in the shower. Just the thought of her naked and washing herself with his soap aroused him. Then reminding himself that Cordy came to him for help, not to be lusted after, Angel cleared out some closet and drawer space for her.
The thought also came to him that it had been a very long time since he lived with a woman; that one being his sire and not remotely like Cordelia. Pushing thoughts of Darla aside, he headed back to the living room to await Cordelia’s emergence from the bathroom figuring they’d have to discuss her situation, not to mention sleeping arrangements.
Angel’s Living Room
Emerging from the bathroom wearing a cotton tank top that clung to her still-damp body and thin, loose pajama pants, Cordelia padded barefoot along the carpeting. “One of those bags has food and movies. I don’t want you to think I expect you to feed and entertain me while I’m here.”
Angel silently considered some interesting forms of entertainment.
Then Cordelia asked as she looked around the tidy living room, “Oh, do you even own a TV and a VCR?”
“Sure,” Angel told her with a shrug. “Doesn’t everybody?” Not that he used his very often.
“I guess.” Feeling suddenly awkward about barging in on him, Cordelia found her eyes wandering across the broad shoulders revealed by his white muscle shirt. His thick muscles bunched beneath the thin cotton, easily defined all the way down to where the shirt tucked into his black sweat pants.
Cordelia swallowed thickly as Angel explained the whereabouts of his equipment. His entertainment equipment, she clarified her own thoughts before deciding even that needed spelling out to herself: the television and VCR.
“They’re in the bedroom,” Angel told her. “I like to relax in bed while I read or watch television, usually documentaries.”
So any movie-watching with Angel would have to be done in his bed? “Oh, well I guess that would make things…cozy.”
That wasn’t Angel’s word for it. “Just make yourself at home, Cordelia. You should be comfortable while you’re here.”
“It’s just temporary,” she suddenly felt a little nervous about the whole idea, “until my place gets fumigated. Weird, I never had a bug problem before, but it’s like these creepy things just attacked overnight.”
“That place is a dump,” Angel looked like he wanted to burn the place to the ground. “I don’t want you there.”
Cordelia put her hands on her hips, telling him with a huff, “It’s all I can afford on the pitiful salary you pay me.”
Frowning, Angel figured that while he wouldn’t mind the idea of Cordelia being here indefinitely, she might have other ideas. “We’ll have Doyle check out some options. Until then, you can stay here.”
“You shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch forever,” Cordelia automatically assumed that was where he would be staying. “Not in your own apartment.”
“I didn’t say I was giving up the bed.”
That caught her full attention. Her mouth dropped open. “You’d make me sleep on the couch? I thought you were supposed to be chivalrous, a gentleman.”
Angel said, “Don’t know where you got that notion in the first place, Cordelia, but I’m not suggesting you should sleep on the couch.”
Hazel eyes widened at the possible scenarios. “You mean… share the bed?”
“Why not?” Angel made it sound simple.
“Hello! It’s not that big. No way you’d stay on your side,” Cordelia figured he’d be a bed hog. Not that she wasn’t. She normally slept in the middle.
Smirking at the thought of it, Angel explained, “I didn’t mean at the same time. Our sleeping patterns are different enough that we could take turns.”
Considering it, she asked, “Time share? I get midnight through dawn and you get dawn to noon. That might work.”
“It beats sleeping on the couch.”
Cordelia smiled at his brilliant idea. “Thanks for letting me barge in on you like this.”
“Anytime, Cordy.”
Staring at him for a few seconds as he looked back at her, Cordelia edged back toward the bedroom. “Guess I’d better unpack.”
“I’ll help you,” he offered. “Then maybe we can watch one of those movies you brought with you.”
“Hope you like Keanu and Brad. I don’t own anything else,” Cordelia admitted.
“Who?”
Laughing, Cordelia grinned widely. “Guess you’ll find out. Why does it not surprise me that you’ve never heard of them being as culturally deprived as you are?”
“Guess that depends on your definition of culture,” Angel returned smoothly.
“Don’t get so defensive, Broody.”
