New Note:<\/b> I want to do one or two parts that explores the growing personal & working relationships for Angel, Cordelia, Wesley & Gunn before the bad times arrive. Beginning with part 3 I\u2019m going to move away from the storylines of episodes and began slowing introducing the Darla arc.<\/p>\n
PART 3<\/b><\/p>\n
Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n
Tonight you\u2019re mine completely. You give your love so sweetly. Tonight the light of love is in your eyes, but will you love me tomorrow? Is this a lasting treasure or just a moment\u2019s pleasure? Can I believe the magic of your sigh? Tonight with words unspoken you say that I\u2019m the only one, but will my heart be broken when the night meets the morning sun? I\u2019d like to know that your love is a love I can be sure of. So tell me now, and I won\u2019t ask again will you still love me tomorrow?<\/i><\/p>\n
**~**<\/b><\/p>\n
Prologue<\/b><\/p>\n
For two days Cordelia scrubbed and polished the counter finally reaping the reward of her diligent vigil. Staring back at her, a reflection, a gorgeous reflection if she said so herself.<\/p>\n
And where were her strapping he-men, upstairs painting Angel\u2019s private suite while she toiled alone and labored in silence. It didn\u2019t matter that Angel had single handedly tackled the basement, ridding it of fifty years of collected junk and vermin before hosing it down. If you\u2019re not a day person, where better to spend a sunny afternoon than the basement.<\/p>\n
Cordelia Chase now had more in common with Willow Rosenberg than she ever believed possible. Both had experienced temporary insanity, better known as Xander Harris and now both had seen the softer side of Sears. Angel had asked and she had jumped at the opportunity, shopping\u2026with money. They purchased paint and spackle and a few items Cordelia wasn\u2019t sure of their use. Then it was on to the entertaining acquisitions, stylish knickknacks and accessories with understated class, draperies and linen, the good kind, high thread count for that added touch of softness and durability. To insure their shopping spree was an equally enjoyable event Cordelia allowed Angel to purchase her a new dress, but not at Sears.<\/p>\n
She had planned to help Angel get his suite ready but Wesley, anal retentive and can\u2019t take a hint had insisted he help upstairs since his slow healing injuries had prevented more than light-duty cleaning and demon book cataloging. Fine, let them deal with the smelly paint and turpentine but she would be there for the decorating and accessorizing. Angel\u2019s new home was going to be light and airy. It didn\u2019t matter that light couldn\u2019t be the sun; she would improvise. His last home had been underground, dark and too gloomy for happy thoughts. Cordelia would make sure Angel understood his new home was at the top of the stairs, not the bottom.<\/p>\n
Chapter 1<\/b><\/p>\n
\u201cPlum,\u201d stepping back to look at his finished wall, Wesley repeated the word with a studious ahum, \u201cplum.\u201d<\/p>\n
In an effort to hide the grimace at Wesley\u2019s plum, ahum plum remark Angel\u2019s face remained fixed to his own wall as he dipped the roller into the paint tray. Cordelia had said trust me, we\u2019re going for refinement with subtle masculinity; you don\u2019t need the room to shout I\u2019m a manly man. Trust was important, especially now. A man that screams like a girl was questioning his room being the color of a small fruit.<\/p>\n
\u201cActually it\u2019s sugar plum.\u201d Angel was bold and confident in his correction. \u201cIt\u2019s a bit soft at first but when you combine it with the black and red bedding it takes on a more masculine feel.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI see.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, and there\u2019s accessories,\u201d no need to hold back now, \u201cthey give the darks a splash of gold for contrast.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cReally,\u201d Wesley\u2019s brow arched and he began wiping overzealous brush strokes of sugarplum from the molding painted in french vanilla.<\/p>\n
He was a manly man; that much Angel was sure. He turned meeting Wesley\u2019s pompous expression with a confident stare. \u201cThese colors work for me, I\u2019m an autumn.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCome again,\u201d Wesley requested thinking Angel was either looking forward to cooler temperatures or wanted him to research the correlation between the equinox and the celestial sphere.<\/p>\n
\u201cFall colors work best for me, you know, colors of nature, dark jewel tones.\u201d Angel was simply explaining it to Wesley the way Cordelia had explained it to him. It had made sense at the time, but then Cordelia had been holding up swatches beside a smile that helped him remember the sun.<\/p>\n
\u201cI see.\u201d What more could one say when presented with such personal information. His watchers training had not included selecting the correct color pallet.<\/p>\n
Angel\u2019s confidence was faltering. Where was a thick book when you needed to slam an arched brow in it? \u201cNo self-respecting vampire should know that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cProbably not, but then, very few vampires spend three nights in a row shopping with Cordelia Chase.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell maybe they should. They\u2019d be too busy accessorizing to be out at night causing trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re even beginning to sound like Cordelia.\u201d His voice shrieked higher than he\u2019d liked but considering the topic of their conversation Wesley figured a shriek tone fit.<\/p>\n
They had discussed but Angel knew the watcher in Wesley had not been satisfied. He had made a point to keep an appropriate distance. There had been hardly any touching since \u2018the\u2019 talk. What did Wesley want from him? Maybe instead of decorating a room they should build a cage in the basement for the vampire. \u201cOut with it Wes; what\u2019s the problem now?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s just…Cordelia is young, even with the visions she can still have a life outside the agency, even the mission for that matter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd a couple of shopping trips with me prevents that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Wesley contemplated the cruel simplicity of their situation. He genuinely understood the need to hold onto this new life. Family and acceptance were nearly as new to him as they were to Angel. It was because he valued Angel\u2019s friendship that he would protect those important to him from a path that could destroy their new life.<\/p>\n
\u201cAngel considering the fact that the better part of Cordelia\u2019s days, and often nights are consumed with fighting evil, don\u2019t you think her free time should be spent with people her own age? Shouldn\u2019t she be allowed to enjoy whatever time the visions allow?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSpend time with who; one of the losers from her acting class or David Nabbit? You saw the pictures Wes; you couldn\u2019t even tell it was upside down. You do know what he was doing with that demon?\u201d<\/p>\n
A brief flinch jerked his body as Wesley recalled the explicit details captured by Mr. Nabbit\u2019s blackmailer. \u201cYes, I have a rather graphic recollection of that particular photo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you\u2019d rather Cordelia be with a man who satisfies his twisted fantasies at a demon brothel than with me. Do you honestly think Cordelia is safer with Nabbit than me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not the case and you know it.\u201d Wesley was quick to defend his position and just as quickly dreading the course of their current discussion.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen explain it to me. Why is Cordelia safer with Nabbitt?\u201d<\/p>\n
Wesley stood rigid against the vampire\u2019s scowl imagining the possible horrors that could consume the very life each man desperately coveted. Evil roaming the dark city filled with rage and loathing for those who had dared to embrace his humanity. A young woman forced to destroy the person she loved most or accept dissolution of her own soul should she refuse. \u201cAngel we are all safer if Cordelia is with David Nabbit.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe curse,\u201d retched from his lips. A crucible inflicted upon the vampire denying his right as demon and taunting him with the unattainable. \u201cCordelia is not Buffy. How I feel about Cordelia is different.\u201d Brown eyes dark with anger and shadowed in fear pierced the narrow space between the two men. \u201cI won\u2019t make the same mistake Wes. I won\u2019t risk losing what I have now.\u201d<\/p>\n
Perhaps the heartache of experience had earned Angel the right to decide his limitations. The choice to be a warrior in the fight against evil had been made freely and Wesley was confident of Angel\u2019s sincerity and commitment to that choice.<\/p>\n
A brow arched in purpose lowered to rest above the rim of paint-splattered glasses. The curse and its ramifications may very well be an ever-present threat but fretting over what ifs would not change the truth of their situation. Trust could only be given unconditionally or withheld completely. His lips stretching into a sly grin Wesley gambled that friendship and blind faith could find strength over centuries old avengement. \u201cOne final suggestion, if I may\u2026never divulge to your enemies you are an autumn or that sugar plum was a conscious choice on your part.\u201d<\/b><\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
Three hours after Wesley bid his goodnight, walls rich and deep with color were adorned with gold sconces holding creamy white candles, tasteful landscapes salvaged from the wasteland of the basement and a prized collection of antique weaponry Cordelia scaled down in order to project but not overstate.<\/p>\n
Old carpet worn bare by too many footsteps had been ripped away days earlier revealing wide mahogany boards, luckily only in need of a hearty scrubbing and lacquered shine. The refurbished floor was the perfect background for the large rug strategically placed on the master\u2019s side of the bed. Thick and plush for bare feet to sink into, its ebony surface was showcased inside an intricate border of fleur de le of gold, red and purple.<\/p>\n
Angel\u2019s old desk rescued from the destruction of their old office and given new life with the same articulate attention fit perfectly in its new surroundings. His new desk chair bought second hand for its combination of leather and wood was the perfect mate. Accessories were sparse giving way to organization and a clutter free surface; a banker\u2019s lamp, a writing pad and ballpoint pen neatly nestled inside its holder and a half-read book interrupted by events more important.<\/p>\n
Draperies carefully selected to guard against the sun but with an illusion of light and airy were hung from wooden rods freshly painted and sporting new gold finials. The window received two layers; the first a single piece of heavy fabric for protection, the top layer rich, crimson panels of damask swept back for an open look. A large ceramic disc hung from two chains anchored to the wooden rod. When ingenuity was present improvisation only required dedication. With tender attention the ceramic piece had been hand painted and glazed with the early morning rays of the sun rising above the horizon.<\/p>\n
The small \u00e9tag\u00e8re, which Cordelia had profusely insisted was more than a bookcase, stood in the corner filled in abundance with antique relics and age worn books that had survived the fiery blast. The middle shelf Cordelia reserved for the small collection of photos scrounged up and fitted into the perfect frames. One of Wesley and Gunn she had captured while they sat at the bottom of the stairs after defeating Thesulac. A wallet size of Doyle tucked inside her purse she would share with Angel. The largest photo, Cordelia and Angel posing in the newly cleaned and polished lobby she placed behind the smaller ones. Her final contribution to Angel\u2019s photo collection, a picture painstakingly sliced from her senior yearbook. Though no longer part of her life, Cordelia accepted that Buffy Summers would always be a significant part of Angel\u2019s.<\/p>\n
A sheet of ruby red silk fluttered in the air before settling across the bed, Cordelia and Angel smoothing out the wrinkles as the sheet fell into place. The thick, black coverlet was next, its dark and heavy texture accented with small embroidered leaves of red, gold and dark green trailing around the edge. Throw pillows of assorted accent colors were tossed on top of the bed pillows encased in matching shams, and then repositioned for a more natural arrangement.<\/p>\n
Their task complete and cup of warm blood in hand, Angel settled into his large, leather chair propping his feet on the matching ottoman. He was comfortable in this new place; the attention to detail had transformed the room into home. It definitely had a masculine feel and offered a subtle statement that a man lives here, but the underlying success, the soft whispers of a woman\u2019s touch.<\/p>\n
Cordelia stretched across the bed; the plush comforter inviting her to scrunch into its plump cradle. She slithered over the smooth surface reveling in her accomplishment. Fine woven cotton felt like velvet against her face and bare shoulders only covered with the narrow straps of her top. \u201cI\u2019m getting excited, are you getting excited?\u201d<\/p>\n
The words, spoken as casually as commenting on the weather choked in his throat when the half-swallowed blood gulped back up. Eyes wide and lips pursed Angel struggled to hold the stream of<\/p>\n
dark, red liquid inside his mouth. Another lifetime would pass and Angel would not be prepared for the blunt honesty of Cordelia Chase.<\/p>\n
Leaping to the foot of the bed to protect the new linens, expensive compared to her limited income, Cordelia squawked at the clumsiness as the last heave spilled red moisture staining his lower lip. \u201cGees Angel, watch it. You can\u2019t be throwing this in the washer every time bedtime snacks get sloppy.\u201d With a hard gulp, the last of the blood was swallowed down but the confession remained battling coherent thought.<\/p>\n
Jaw clinched Angel simply stared, his face blank except for the trace of panic overlooked. The actual occurrence may not have been discussed but Angel was sure Wesley\u2019s list of things not allowed included feeling excited while Cordelia was in his bed. \u201cSorry; and excited? No I\u2019m not excited.\u201d Why was he apologizing? It was his blood and his new bedding bought with his money. OK technically their money since they had agreed the money belonged to the agency.<\/p>\n
\u201cAngel are you OK; you look pale. Maybe the blood\u2019s bad. Did it make you gag.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo I\u2019m fine, it\u2019s fine; it just went down the wrong way.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019d think after two and a half centuries you\u2019d have the swallowing liquid thing down pat.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell excuse me Cordelia.\u201d Leaning back into the suddenly less relaxing chair Angel wiped across his mouth and chin checking for smears, \u201cbut I usually have my bedtime snacks alone, not with a woman in my bed announcing she\u2019s excited.\u201d<\/p>\n
Having rescued the perfectly selected, massed produced, one of a kind coverlet, Cordelia fell back gazing at the ceiling. \u201cI know what you mean big guy. Maybe that\u2019s why we round up together. I mean between you, me and Wesley we can\u2019t even scare up one date, unless you count the losers.\u201d<\/p>\n
The mood was swiftly changing and Angel realized he was the victim of Cordelia\u2019s colorful dialogue. Cordelia wasn\u2019t excited about being in his bed; she was excited about her decorating accomplishment. \u201cWhy do we need dates? We have each other.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell your one big time might be all you get because of your curse but I don\u2019t intend to be cursed from ever trying again because my one time was a disaster.\u201d<\/p>\n
Talk about dating and Cordelia\u2019s next time being better was definitely ruining the ambiance.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo who are you thinking of dating, anyone I know or someone new?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDavid is coming by tomorrow. He spent a lot of time working up proposals for a long term lease and us buying this place. Well actually it was his staff that spent the time but he was paying them. The least we can do is listen and pretend like we understand.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd that has what to do with you dating?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe planned on going out afterwards.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCordelia, I don\u2019t think spending time with David Nabbit is a good idea.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI haven\u2019t really thought about it as an idea, but if I did it wouldn\u2019t be a bad one. Is that what you think? My being with David is a bad idea?\u201d<\/p>\n
A surge of panic shot through his nervous system. \u201cYou\u2019re not with<\/i> Nabbit.\u201d Angel\u2019s nostrils flared taking in a quick scent. Relief followed the easy separation of acceptable prints. Wesley, and Gunn to a smaller degree, but mainly his just as it should be.<\/p>\n
\u201cUh, with<\/i>?\u201d Eyes wide with confusion and a little embarrassment, \u201cno with<\/i> is not the metaphor we\u2019re looking for. Which brings to question, why are we looking for a metaphor and did you just sniff me?\u201d<\/p>\n
Angel\u2019s turn, discomfort with any situation requiring verbal interaction was a familiar feeling but embarrassment, a bit foreign. Well foreign until Cordelia Chase became ninety percent of his verbal interaction. \u201cNo, of course not and I\u2019m not looking<\/i> for metaphors. It\u2019s more like eliminating\u00a0<\/i>metaphors.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOK, stop stressing<\/i> words. It\u2019s freaking<\/i> me out.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf talking about Nabbit freaks<\/i> you it\u2019s probably a sign it\u2019s not a good<\/i> idea.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCrap!\u201d Hands clamped around her face, fingers turning white from the pressure against her temples as she curled into tight ball.<\/p>\n
Vision\u2026Conversation forgotten Angel was on the bed instantly scooping her curled form into his arms. With a gentle rocking motion silent whispers puffed cool breaths soothing her aching flesh. Tense muscles began to relax and knees pressed tight against her body pulled away as her legs slid down the narrow space between them.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan you tell me what you saw?\u201d His voice was husky but the words remained whisper soft.<\/p>\n
\u201cYea, uh\u2026\u201d Cordelia leaned from his embrace resting her back against the cushiony bed. Willing her body to relax and mind to focus she recalled the frightening screams and bumpy faces with fangs. \u201cVampires\u2026where would we be without those,\u201d she added with a faint smile, her eyes still hazy from the pain. \u201cThey\u2019re attacking some teenagers hanging out in the alley. Call Wesley, there\u2019s more than a few. I think it was that old blue jean factory where Gunn and his crew patrols. They might already there, you need to hurry.\u201d<\/p>\n
Angel was off the bed, Cordelia never leaving the fold of his arms as he pulled back the covers tucking her inside.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut I\u2019m sweaty and you haven\u2019t even slept on your new sheets yet.\u201d Her protest was weak, almost lost as tired eyes closed against the vision aftermath.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not important. After you\u2019ve rested take a shower, but I want you to go back to bed afterwards. Can I trust you to listen to me just this once?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho me, Miss Agreeable?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYea you, Miss Never Does as She\u2019s Told,\u201d Angel teased giving the tip of her nose a gentle tap then slipped her hair from the scrunchie making her more comfortable. \u201cThis won\u2019t take long, I\u2019ll be back before you wake.\u201d<\/p>\n
Reluctant to leave Cordelia alone Angel grabbed his coat. A swift handling of the vision would return him to watch over her. Stopping short when the hairs on his neck bristled sending tingles across his sensitive skin he peered into the dark hallway, first one direction and then the other.<\/p>\n
The small figure slinked further into the shadows, a sparkling cloud of red dust floating in the air around her. An intruder maybe but the presence was fleeting, barely detectable. Taking a few steps back Angel looked through the open doorway. Sleeping peacefully snuggled under the fluffy bedcovers the reason for his concerns and possibly, overactive imagination. Maybe a few ghosts still lingered unaware Cordelia Chase had taken over. A silent chuckle sent the suspicions away leaving behind a reminder to make sure the front door was securely locked.<\/p>\n