{"id":4548,"date":"2015-07-09T11:07:48","date_gmt":"2015-07-09T10:07:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/goteamfiction.com\/?p=4548"},"modified":"2015-07-09T11:08:01","modified_gmt":"2015-07-09T10:08:01","slug":"still-waters","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/goteamfiction.com\/index.php\/2015\/07\/09\/still-waters\/","title":{"rendered":"Still Waters."},"content":{"rendered":"

Title: Still Waters<\/b>
\nAuthor: <\/b>LostAkasha
\nPosted: <\/b>05
\nEmail<\/b><\/a>
\nRating: <\/b>R
\nCategory: <\/b>
\nContent: <\/b>Cordelia Chase\/Angel
\nSummary: <\/b>Angel says a lot — in his head, at least.
\nSpoilers: <\/b>
\nDisclaimer: <\/b>The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
\nDistribution: <\/b>Just ask
\nNotes: <\/b>
\nThanks\/Dedication:<\/b>Shout out to:DamnSkippy.<\/b> who writes brilliant Cordy. I hope my Angel is up to her standards \ud83d\ude42
\nFeedback:<\/b>Pet me. I’m a whore.<\/p>\n

\n

She was beyond on my nerves this time, beyond infuriating. But did I walk away? Did I retreat into brood mode as expected and swallow the argument the way she expects me to?<\/p>\n

God help me, not this time.<\/p>\n

I get that she\u2019s just barely twenty. I do. Christ, I have first-edition books that are older than she\u2019ll ever be, so you\u2019d think I\u2019d have known better than to let loose. But she\u2019s just so damned annoying. Needy, too. I may be monumentally self-absorbed, but I\u2019m not a total idiot. She needs<\/i> to argue with me like other women need to breathe\u2013 she\u2019s not wired any other way.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve seen the way her eyes dance, the way she leans toward me with her hands on her hips, the way she wets her lips and dares me to do whatever it is she thinks she wants. Pushing just to get a reaction.<\/p>\n

She forgets that I can scent her. It\u2019s there, all right, beneath the layers of moss rose and hibiscus and sweat. When she\u2019s turned on she smells like ambergris: a little sweet, a little musty. There\u2019s juniper in there, too. And it was full-on this morning, first thing. Coffee wasn\u2019t even made yet and there it was, like smoke from a beekeeper\u2019s smudge pot.<\/p>\n

She\u2019s got every right to have a life, to be loved, to want. Want love. Want sex. Want a life. This is the litany I recite every night, and three times a day at six, twelve and six. Apparently it\u2019s not helping, because when she walked in all musky and tangy and aroused, I was a little aggravated.<\/p>\n

Pissed, actually.<\/p>\n

The demon in me loves the odor of fear. The man in me craves the scent of desire. And I wanted to be the one who triggered that essence in her. But I seriously doubted that was the case. She\u2019d rather fight me than fuck me, and that\u2019s all for the best \u2013 whether I like it or not.<\/p>\n

So at first I did my usual \u201cignore her\/it\/them and she\/it\/them will go away\u201d routine. Be cool, ignore her. Let it settle down. Flex that monastic patience, boyo.<\/p>\n

She followed me into Wes\u2019 office. I tuned her out well enough that by the time she followed me back out I had no idea what she was going on about. Sex wafted on the air current around her, sticky as an ocean breeze. She asked me what I thought of something, but I couldn\u2019t say what.<\/p>\n

So I said what I always say.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo? What do you mean, no?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAren\u2019t you even listening to me? You\u2019re blocking me out. You always do this, Angel.\u201d<\/p>\n

It wasn\u2019t fair. I had my hand on the basement door handle, but instead of opening it and going downstairs to escape the conversation, I met her eyes. Her enormous, dark, lovely eyes, which were about to spill enormous Emmett-Kelly-on-velvet tears.<\/p>\n

\u201cI am listening.\u201d I felt like the world\u2019s biggest bastard, but since I feel that way every day it wasn\u2019t a stretch. But when she looks at me that way it always feels like my first offense. Worse, maybe, and I\u2019ll do anything to fix it. And I do.<\/p>\n

So I decided I would, right then. \u201cReally,\u201d I promised, \u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou should be. I should stake you just for being such an arrogant son of a bitch.\u201d<\/p>\n

Huh?<\/i><\/p>\n

\u201cWho, me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, the vampire behind you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust tell me…\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you think I\u2019ve been trying to do for the last ten minutes?\u201d<\/p>\n

Ambergris, ambergris everywhere, and not a drop to drink. Best intentions aside, I had to get away from her. Go downstairs. Hit the bag. Lift some weights. So I opened the door and fled.
\nAnd the one sided argument continued until I reached the bottom of the stairs.<\/p>\n

That\u2019s when she grabbed me by the back of my sweater.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you dare run away from me,\u201d she demanded.<\/p>\n

Cashmere rebounds, but I don\u2019t like being grabbed at. Call it instinct. Call it vanity. Call it what you want, just don\u2019t grab me by the sweater.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo not push me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight, don\u2019t push the big broody man with an attitude problem the size of\u2026 of.. a gigantic attitude problem. I\u2019m trying to help you, you fathead.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMy head is not\u2026how is fighting with me helping me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not fighting with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes you are. This is what you do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat I<\/i> do? I\u2019m not the only one, buster. You drive me to this. Every time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou could drive Gandhi to homicide.\u201d<\/p>\n

Her chin actually wobbled. I\u2019d only seen that a few times, because if nothing else, she is brave. Tough as nails. Not a cry baby. Not even close.<\/p>\n

If she could keep up a good front through a mystical pregnancy and vision-induced insanity, I\u2019d be damned if I\u2019d be responsible for a crack in her armor. I reached out to touch her shoulder and she wrenched it away from me, tears replaced with fire. Mission accomplished.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you, Angel. Thank you ever so much for being such a wonderful, kind, sensitive, loving person who would never dream of hurting anyone\u2019s feelings, especially mine. Oh yeah, when you\u2019re done winning the Nobel prize for being the world\u2019s first humanitarian vampire, could you come back down to earth and explain to me why you have to make everything so damn hard?\u201d<\/p>\n

There it was. If Fred – sweet, crazy Fred \u2013 waits for the click, I wait for the snap<\/i>. The sound the last straw makes when it lands. Out it came, and I couldn\u2019t stop it for all the world.<\/p>\n

“That’s what we do. We fight. You tell me when I’m being an arrogant son of a bitch and I tell you when you are being a pain in the ass. Which you are 99% of the time. I’m not afraid to hurt your feelings. You have like a two second rebound rate and you’re back do doing the next pain in the ass thing.”<\/p>\n

“So what?”<\/p>\n

So I did what I vowed never to do. I pulled her close, really close. Close enough to count her eyelashes. Close enough to trace the hairline crack in her lower lip that she gets from biting down when she\u2019s concentrating. Close enough her to feel the muscles in her back tighten and release with her breath. Close enough to suffocate in the cloud of ambergris rising from her skin, sheltering us both. Close enough that my lips brushed hers with every word.<\/p>\n

“So it’s not going to be easy. It’s going to be really hard. And we’re going to have to work at this every day. But I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, every day.”<\/p>\n

End<\/b><\/p>\n

LostAkasha<\/a><\/b><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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