Author: Misty Flores
Summary: A lonely bartender gets an earful when three women enter, fully intent on getting drunk, and three men are the reason.
Pairing: Angel/Cordelia, Wesley/Faith, and Fred/Gunn. Lorne/Kate implied.
Rating: Very R for hard core sexual situations and adult situations.
~~~
I don't know much
But I know I love you
And that may be all I need to know
It was slow for a Tuesday.
Okay, granted, things were always slow on Tuesday, but Rick had never really been so bored, that he actually WATCHED the cases going on Judge Judy, flickering on the big screen TV on the corner. Now, leaning against the counter, he did, cocking his head.
Wow. That Judge Judy was MEAN.
Sighing, he turned, taking a rag and haphazardly wiping at the counter top, eyes drifting over the clientele. Not much to look at really. Debbie, with the big bar hair, who never missed a night, sitting in the corner, chatting it up with some guy in leather. Dan, in the corner, smoking his tenth cigarette, loud and obnoxious on the cell phone as he typed away on his Dell 5200, plugged into the place's only internet jack.
Rick was fully aware of the stigma that came with bartenders. The night life. The chicks. The stories. Bullshit. He was lucky if he got a decent tip, nowadays. This used to be a cool place. But, people had moved on, to greener pastures.
Fingering his books, nestled under the counter, he wondered if now was the time to retry studying for that bar exam. That hot lawyer chick... Lilah... that was her name, she seemed happy enough. When she wasn't drinking herself under the table.
Eh. It was a thought.
Sighing, he leaned against the counter, turning a bored eye to the door, when it suddenly rattled. Huh. Curious, he straightened, eyes widened when he saw exactly who entered.
Wow.
A lithe, graceful woman entered first, dark hair over a pale face, with even darker hooded eyes, lined with mascara. On her wrist was a jangle of leather bracelets, and painted on her toned, muscled arm was a tattoo that wrapped intimately around her bicep. Wavy hair fell in rumpled waves, framing a face with pursed red lips and a dark scowl. And, Oh my God - she was wearing leather pants. Skin tight, body hugging, ass lifting leather pants, and a barely there tanktop with breasts that would make any woman proud.
She stood, as if inspecting the room, before opening the door wider, and from behind her, another woman emerged, taller, more slender than the first. She wore a dark tan, accented by blonde highlights streaked over brown hair, cut short, swinging against her chin and neck. Elegant, with hazel eyes that shone as she pondered the room, turning, wrap around skirt swishing, and showing a tantalizing portion of a bronze leg, as she reached into the doorway, and pulled in ANOTHER girl.
Rick slumped against the barstool. This one was a little thinner than the others. Long brown hair, ironed straight, tall, with wide, gorgeous brown eyes, with an expressive mouth. It was obvious she did not want to be there. A short summer dress and a jean jacket revealed legs that could go on forever, wrapped around a man's waist, even better, and small agile fingers that could-
"Hey." Rick blinked, shaken out of his pondering when Debbie suddenly appeared less than a foot away. "Another Alabama Slammer."
He cocked his eyebrow, sighing as he resisted another look at his new customers, and reached behind the bar. "Don't you think you've had enough, Debbie?"
"No."
"I'm cutting you off after this one."
"Oh, and you got anything better to do?" she snapped, rolling her eyes, and tossing a ten on the counter, taking the drink he offered. "Keep the change."
"I'm not sure we should be doing this."
"Shut up, Fred."
"But what if we get really... you know..." Rick turned his gaze, and caught the one they called Fred, the thin one, leaning forward. Her voice got noticeably lower.
"Drunk? I mean, now that Kate's living with Lorne, it's not like we can just go and -"
"We're not going to get drunk, Fred."
"Right, 'cause that shit helped us SO much the last time," the one in leather responded, straddling a bar stool in a manner, that Rick supposed she also straddled men. Woah. He blinked. Talk about an over active libido.
"Besides, not like I know if I can actually GET drunk anymore, what with the whole demon-y thing," Blonde Streaks said, pulling up a stool next to 'Leather', and pulling one for the one with the guy's name. Her eyes moved about the bar, pursing her lips. "Might as well try it out, right?"
"Whatever. Where's the damned bartender?"
Bartender. Oh wait. That was him. "That's me!" he yelped, almost stumbling over a crate that seemed to show up out of nowhere as he traveled the ten feet to get to them. "I'm the bartender. Hi! Rick!"
Three sets of female eyes now stared. Rick paused, suddenly self-conscious when he felt level gazes appraise him from head to foot.
Was it hot in here?
Pulling at his tie, he managed a smile. "What can I get you?"
Streaks smirked, and both eyes went to Leather. Suddenly, a hand wrapped around his tie, and Rick was yanked forward, to find himself face to face with a pair of blazing brown eyes. He gulped.
"I... uh..."
"I want something hard, fast. Something that will get me fucked-"
He was saved when the Streaks pulled her back, plopping her into her chair. "Malibu Rum with pineapple juice for me and Slutty, here. Fred?"
Fred bit her upper lip nervously. "Coke."
"Coke?" 'Slutty' rolled her eyes. "Fuck, Fred. The idea of coming into a bar was to get DRUNK."
"I can't drink."
"You can hold your liquor better, than I can, Fred."
"Cordelia..." Cordelia. That was Streak's name. Cordelia. Like the lady in Shakespeare. Regal. Rolling off the tongue like a sonnet-
"What's with you, anyway? I mean, I know why I'M here, I know why Faith's, here-" Rick blinked. Faith. Leather Slutty Girl's name was FAITH?! "But why did we drag you here? I thought you and Gunn were the picture of domestic bliss."
Gunn. Fred had a guy and his name was Gunn. Gunn. Either that or a really phallic vibrator. Okay. One down, two to go.
"I can mix something really mild," he offered, once again turning their attention on to him. "Not a lot of alcohol."
"None, preferably," Fred said, slumping down in her stool. "I'll just take a Shirley Temple."
Faith snorted, and Rick had no idea why, but he found himself looking at Cordelia for confirmation. As if too tired to argue, Cordelia waved him away.
Turning, Rick began to set up the glasses, reaching under for the rum, one ear tuned into the girls. Odd, he hadn't realized it, but as he watched each girl seated side by side, he wondered if he had ever seen a more diverse trio of chicks.
"Now, what's with the alcohol repulsion?"
"Yeah, Fred. You were knocking back those shots so fast last week, you almost got ME beat."
"I just... I really don't want to... it's nothing."
"Well, that 'nothing' is what dragged your ass out here, so you better spill," Cordelia said, sighing. "What idiotic thing did Gunn do this time?"
"He didn't do anything. Look, can we just do what we came to do and -"
"Hello, ladies." Rick looked up to find Dan, wearing a smile and holding a beer. "Can I buy you a drink?"
Faith cocked an eyebrow. "Who?"
"Huh?"
"Which one did you want to buy a drink for?" she asked flatly.
"Whoever'd like one."
"I have a boyfriend," Fred said quickly, immediately pulling out a book, and burying her nose in it.
"Big ass, tall, mean one," Cordelia offered.
Dan smiled, sidling toward her. Rick narrowed his eyes. Geez. Couldn't he lay off? He saw 'em first!
"No, she's talking about HER boyfriend," Faith said, swinging the stool back to the bar. "Her boyfriend is a big ass, tall, mean mother fucker. Drinks blood."
Rick almost spilled the glass. Damn. Well, that only left-
"And you?" Dan asked. "Your boyfriend, what's he like?"
Faith went silent, a beguiling smirk on her face. "My boyfriend," she said finally. "Is a British stick-up-the-butt curse obsessed man in love with books."
"But apparently, the sex is great! Especially on couches!"
"Will you get the FUCK off that? That only happened once!"
"Twice."
"Well, I meant, AFTER the first time."
"You're still paying for that."
Rick placed the glasses down in front of the women, a bewildered smile on his lips as he placed coasters down. "Here you go."
"Thanks."
"I got those," Dan said, fishing into his wallet.
"You really don't have to."
"I want to."
Cordelia and Faith exchanged a look, and shrugged. "Okay." Faith slid off the leather stool, and slammed a hand into Dan's back, making him lurch forward, fumbling with his wallet. "Thanks."
Rick had to suppress a smirk when the three women gathered their drinks and moved to the other end, leaving Dan standing there, the money in his hand, mouth agape. "That's 18 bucks," he offered.
Dan stared, and shook his head, plonking down the cash. "Fuck."
"Hey man, wha'd you expect, they all have boyfriends." There was almost a note of longing in his voice, as Rick stared down to the corner of the mahogany wood, to the whispering trio. "Wasn't like you were going to get any."
"A lady could change her mind," Dan said.
"Yeah, I guess..." Rick mused, as Cordelia flipped her hair back over her shoulder, revealing a milky white neck, marred by what looked like a big... hickey? "Seems like the beautiful ones are always taken, right?"
"How do I get a beautiful woman," Dan wondered out loud.
"I'd ask them."
"You!" Rick straightened, blinking when the one in leather, Faith, waved to him. "Get over here."
"Faith!" Cordelia hissed.
Faith shrugged her off. "No. I want to know."
"Faith, I really don't-"
"Shut up, Fred."
The two men cast each other surprised glances, but obediently, Rick moved, Dan following closely behind.
"Can I help you?" he offered.
"Sure. I have a question that I want to ask. You, too," she indicated toward Dan.
"Sure," Dan said, smiling as he adjusted his tie.
"What the FUCK is the matter with YOU!" Rick blinked, taken aback. He glanced at Dan helplessly, but found Dan gaping like a fish.
"Excuse me?"
"What's the matter with you guys? Are you this stupid, like on, PURPOSE? Do you TRY to push us away? Is it like, a CONSCIOUS effort to make us seem like incompetent bitches?"
Well... that was... unexpected. "I... uh... what?"
"It's a valid question," Fred offered, sipping her Shirley Temple like a child at a soda fountain. Her brown eyes glistened with quiet rage. "We do everything to be supportive, to be there, and then the minute we need you, you turn into stoic, quiet-"
"Broody-"
"Broody, thank you, Cordelia." Cordelia smiled graciously.
"Fucks," Faith finished.
"I... uh-"
"What kind of guys are you with?" Dan asked. Exasperation was etched clearly on his face. "We're NOT that bad!"
"I... just want to give you guys your drinks," Rick sputtered. "That's all... I mean, if your boyfriend's can't handle-"
"My boyfriend can handle whatever the hell he-"
"Faith-" Fred placed her hand on the hot-tempered girl's shoulder. "He wasn't tryin' to be mean." She turned back to him. "But I would like an answer. Perhaps I could understand."
"Understand WHAT?!"
"What it is, about them," she replied, "That makes you want to melt, and strangle them at the same time."
"What the hell did Gunn do?!" Cordelia sputtered.
"Yeah. Shit, now I'm curious."
Fred merely stared into her drink and said nothing for a beat. "There's no alcohol in this, right?"
Rick managed to absorb the question, despite the distraction of Faith leaning up in her seat to stretch.
"I... uh... no."
"So let me get this straight." The girls and the men looked back to find Big Hair Debbie staring down at them, a drink in one hand, and the guy in leather's ass in another. "You three came out here, just to get drunk, because of your boyfriends?"
Cordelia sighed. "It happens occasionally."
"I have a problem when getting drunk over men becomes a fucking ritual," Faith grumbled. "I didn't have this shit when I was in jail."
"Jail?!" Dan squeaked.
Faith's mouth twitched. "Yeah. I'm a convicted murderer. Forget to mention that?"
"Hardcore, huh?" Debbie asked, pulling up a chair and straddling it backwards. "I like that. Name's Debbie."
"Regular?" Cordelia asked dryly.
The sarcasm was apparently lost on her. "And ya'll are?"
There was a moment of silence, before Fred, apparently the only one with manners, got up and offered a smile. "I'm Fred," she said graciously, shaking her hand. "And that's Cordelia and Faith."
"Nice to meetcha." Debbie smiled. "This here is Jake, he's a big glowering type."
Faith quirked an eyebrow, meeting the man in leather's gaze with a soft smile. He glowered back. When, Cordelia cast her a look, she only shook her head slightly. "Not yet."
"Whatever."
"And that's Rick, our bartender, and Dan, our yuppie."
"Pleased to meet you ladies." Dan said, a trifle too enthusiastic as he shook Fred's hand vehemently. He took a seat. "Can I refill that... Shirley Temple?"
"Oh, honey, for an occasion like this, you need the hardcore stuff." Debbie motioned to Rick. "Pull out the shot glasses."
"No, it's fine, really!" Fred said hastily. "I don't want to drink."
"Oh, come on, sweetie, you can't be in a bar, and not drink!"
"She doesn't want to drink, leave her the fuck alone," Faith growled, apparently losing patience. The glare in her eyes was enough to make Rick shrink back, but Debbie, happily buzzed, only patted Faith on the shoulder.
"Calm down, tiger. This here's a happy bar! Well, okay," she amended. "It's a really pathetic bar, but no one gets out of here without telling their story."
"You really think we're going to spill our reasons for being here to total strangers?" Cordelia scoffed. "Not."
"Sorry, sweetie. It's a rule."
"Do it, and the drinks are all on the house." Everyone stared at Rick in shock, and even he blinked, looking around to make sure he was the one that said it.
But yeah... it had to be him. He smiled, and nodded.
The women stayed silent, before looking at each other. Finally, the leather chick shrugged.
"Whatever," she said, dismissing them all with a flip of her hair, digging into her pants to pull out a crumpled packet of cigarettes.
"I thought Wes hated when you smoked," Cordelia said, narrowing her eyes at her.
"Fuck Wes," she muttered, pulling out a lighter.
"Faith, you're not smoking anywhere near me."
"Fred-"
"NO. Put that out."
"Fred, shut-"
"I think I'm pregnant! PUT IT OUT!"
The entire room fell silent in shock. The lighter fell from Faith's hands, Cordelia's eyes widened, and every person had their eyes locked on Fred.
"You've got to be shitting me," Faith whispered.
"What the hell happened?!" Debbie asked excitedly.
"He knocked you UP!? I'm going to fucking KILL the bastard-"
"Faith, calm down. Fred?!"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Fred!"
Rick blew out his breath, thanking GOD he hadn't slipped any alcohol into the Shirley Temple, as Dan hastily snuffed his own cigarette out.
Fred's face was beet red, almost the color of her Shirley Temple. "Just... I won't... You first," she blurted.
Cordelia blinked. "What?"
"You first. I'll go last."
"Fred, I'm not going to-"
"Oh, Fuck it, I'LL go," Faith said, now shredding her cigarette into bits. Her eyes flashed as she turned to their audience. "But if you asses tell anyone what anyone said, I'll fucking kill you, all right?"
Debbie happily nodded. Dan swallowed and pulled on his tie again, and Rick slumped back against the bar.
Okay, so maybe there was a reason he wasn't dating beautiful women. They were scary as hell.
~~~
Look at this face
I know the years are showing
Look at this life
I still don't know where it's going
I don't know much
But I know I love you
And that may be all I need to know
Settling into domesticity was something she really never expected to do. It just didn't make sense, and she really doubted that there was really anybody out there who would have said, "Faith, in five years you're going to be screwing the stuffy Watcher guy from England, wearing his bunny loafers, and reading his journals. By the way, did I mention that first you're going to torture him, kill a bunch of people, get thrown in jail and end up in L.A., where your best friend will be Cordelia Chase, who'll be in love with Angel - Buffy's ex?"
But here she was. Faith shuffled in the large armchair, peering over the top of his leather bound volume to stare at her feet, propped up on his very nice flea market antique coffee table. Wiggling her toes, she cocked her head, watching the bunny's ears flop and flop. Wesley was deceptively lean, and she had learned from first hand experience that his shoulders were actually broader than she expected. Consequently, his robe, which was all she was really wearing at the moment, was a little too big, and the sleeves had to be rolled up.
It was downright domestic, and it kinda freaked her out. She wasn't supposed to have this, not really. This was almost normal. As normal as things could get, and it was... okay, it was weird. Granted, she should have realized this before, but she had been a little too busy involved in the outside melodrama to really think about her situation. There was shit with Holtz, shit with Connor, shit with Lorne - outside forces, and the whole 'Cordelia becoming a demon' thing only added to that. Not really a lot of time to take a moment and consider just how comfy she was getting in stuffy Watcher guy's apartment.
She really should have panicked. She would have, on any other day, but even now, this 'relationship' was drawing her further in, and she almost hated Wesley for it.
He was in a funk, he was being an asshole, and it was worrying her half to death.
She wondered when exactly she started 'knowing' him. 'Knowing' him, not in the Biblical sense, because that started right away, but knowing him, as in, knowing that he got up at four in the morning every day to use the bathroom. She knew that, because she woke up once cold, and found him there, reading one of his big fat books while sitting on it. She had cocked an eyebrow, told him to wipe the seat, and gone back to bed. In two minutes, he was right back with her, spooning around her, a smooth pool of warmth flooding her back. He had kissed her shoulder then, a soft caress, and brushed the hair from her cheeks. She had asked him if he was planning on leaving the window open the next time he stopped up the toilet.
It was little shit like that. She knew how he liked his tea - granted, she still couldn't make it. He had blanched, the look on his face almost priceless, the moment the cup came crashing down, and it had sploshed all over her fingers, scalding her. There had been a few minutes of squabbling, until she had gulped it herself, and spewed it all over him. It had been a really uncomfortable moment until he had burst into laughter, trying so hard to stifle the chuckles, and she had been ready to club him, but had ended splashing the rest of it all over him instead.
She had cleaned it up later, even licked most of it off - punishment for making some of the worst tea, forget it, THE worst tea ever made.
She knew him, or at least thought she did. And this, it wasn't him. Not the unshaven face, not the dark look in his eyes, not the way he had been giving Angel a run for his money in broody.
She wondered if he thought she wouldn't notice, if he could stay buried in his books and prophecies and not realize that she was watching his every move, thinking, noticing, trying to understand. Something was wrong, really, really wrong.
And she was his girlfriend, right? Shouldn't she do... some shit and like... try to talk to him about it? Do like Cordelia did with Angel and hound him until he was so pissed off...
Faith fingered the leather volume slowly. Wesley was an idiot if he didn't forget who he was sleeping with, even with the bunny slippers and the too big robe. Her fingers trailed every bump of the worn leather, fingered the sides of the paper, and contemplated opening it, trying to understand.
Because, Christ, something was wrong, no one had noticed but her, and she had no idea WHAT it WAS, or why Wes wouldn't tell her.
Maybe she had this all wrong. Maybe there was nothing domestic about it. Maybe, when he kissed her, when he held her and fell asleep in front of the TV with her, he had other shit on his mind. Maybe she was the farthest thing from it.
Maybe this wasn't a relationship at all.
Fuck. She hated this.
Sensitive hearing that only a Slayer possessed aided her when she heard movement from the bathroom. Subtly, she placed the book under her robe, picking idly at the lint as he came in. Wesley, dressed only in a pair of black pants, strands of hair wet and glistening on his forehead, was distracted, mopping at his hair with a towel, his nose buried in a book. And it wasn't just any book. It was THE book.
The same damned book he had been staring at for days now. The book he wouldn't let her see.
"Sounds like some great reading you've got there," she said, breaking the silence. Seated on the couch, Wesley only shot her a grim smile, before turning back to the book, eyebrow furrowing.
Faith's fingers tangled nervously with each other. She was hot and sweaty, and she wasn't sure why, but her heart beat erratically and the overwhelming concern was overriding the anger at Wesley completely dismissing her.
She thought they had got past all this insecurity bull shit, but it never really went away - not for her. Her eyes closed, wondering why on earth Wes was just fine with riding her in the bathroom, burying himself in her and breathing her scent in, as his fingers slid over her shoulders, her back, moaning into her hair, and then forgetting she was in the room five minutes later.
"Hey."
"Hmm." He barely looked up.
"You okay?" God, it came out so stupid. Nervous and weird, and... jumbled. But she waited expectantly, feeling absurdly like a little girl as she wiggled her bunny feet and pushed her sleeves up to her elbows, only to have them fall down again. Wesley's blue eyes always made her catch her breath, and they were dark midnight now, staring up at her as if her being here was a surprise.
Once again she got the fake smile, just for a second, before he ducked his head back into his book.
Oh-kay. "Fuck ,Wes, you could at least answer."
"Faith." He didn't even hear her last statement. His voice was full of distraction, when he asked, "Has Cordelia mentioned anything to you about Angel?" She must have really made that blank stare real, because he continued with, "How intimate they've gotten?"
The scowl on his face only added to her bewildered confliction, and she shuffled in the chair, pulling her legs up as she muttered, "I don't really talk about Cordelia's sex life with her - personal boundaries, and shit-"
"Faith."
"Wesley, why the fuck-"
"Faith."
She gave him a murderous glare, but he stared, as if her answer was of the utmost importance, and she gave in, almost hating herself as she grudgingly admitted, "They're close. To doing it."
The look on his face was stricken, and her heart stopped with the realization. Fingers stopped messing with her wet hair. "Fuck, Wes. Is that what this shit is about? You're worried about Angel and Cordy getting it on?"
He turned away, slamming his books together, and gathering them up.
"It's none of our business, Wes."
"It's every bit a part of my business, Faith."
'My'. Not 'Our'. 'My'. Fuck you, Wesley. "Since when?" she snapped, sitting up, letting her arms fall to the side. "Cordy knows what she's doing, Wes. She's more scared of Angelus than anyone - she's not going to let him out-"
"Love has a habit of blinding-"
"It didn't blind YOU."
"We were different. I didn't turn EVIL the moment we had sex."
"Yeah, you did, Wesley." He froze, and for a moment, just a moment, she felt the moment of bitterness and agony that had flared up the moment he had fucked her, no, not fucked, made love, made love to her and tried to take it back.
Maybe he felt it too, because he regarded her with this look, the broody Wesley look. "Faith," he began, his voice softer now. "Logic is not the same as losing a soul."
Could have fucking fooled her.
Taking a breath, Faith clenched at the sofa, looked away for a moment, and then turning back to find her boyfriend, with his blue eyes moist and sad.
Fuck.
"Why are you so obsessed with their sex life?" she finally asked. "I mean, when they figured that shit out, you didn't care about it. You were happy for them. Happy for Connor, you said he needed a mot-"
"I know what I said, Faith-" He was retreating now, moving toward the bedroom. She stood, heedless of anything now. "Something's changed, Wes. Something's changed and you're not telling me what it is. You're not telling anyone." His back was so straight as he listened to her, the back of his head was all he allowed her to see, and God - why wasn't he fucking letting her in? WHY? "You going to tell me what the hell it is, Wes? You think I don't know you by now? Tell me." The last two words were almost a plea, almost a threat, wedged somewhere in between.
He paused, turned, and maybe she was getting through. MAYBE, there was something in him and she got to it - maybe they were more than fuck buddies after all, because his eyes were soft now, and his hands, they unclenched...
And went right back to fists when his eyes gaze roved downward.
"What the bloody..." Her eyes shot down, and she realized she had just REALLY fucked up. "My journal," he breathed, coming forward, kneeling down to pick it up. "You read my journal?"
"Not... yet..." the look in his face was ice cold, and she almost shrank from it, from the hurt and anger, before she realized - hey, she was fucking Faith. "How the hell else was I going to figure it out, Wesley? You weren't going to tell me? I was worried, okay? About YOU."
"NEVER go through these," he hissed, stepping away from her. "You've no right to go through my personal books."
"Why the hell, don't I?" she asked. "Why shouldn't I? If I can't-"
"You've no idea, Faith. NO IDEA-"
"Then tell me," she whispered, eyes stinging now, and it was embarrassing, the way she was almost begging, but she didn't care, not now. "TELL me, Wes."
But his eyes were hard, and with that stubble, with that look, it wasn't Wesley.
She closed her eyes, felt her hands curl up into fists, and SHIT - she wanted to hit him, because only HE made her this small, this vulnerable - he was her fucking world, and it was some twisted shit that made that happen.
Without another word, she stripped off her robe - his robe - and flung it at him, pushing past him and moving into his bedroom, grabbing the leather pants he had peeled off slowly, so slowly, and yanking on her shirt.
Fucking dj vu.
"Faith-"
"No. You don't want to share? Fine. We're not sharing. There's no domesticity, there's not fucking bunny loafers or big robes, and no journals. I don't got those rights, if you can't TRUST me, then all I am is a fuck buddy- and I'm fucking tired of being that, Wes."
"Faith, you're being-"
"Yeah, your bet your ass I'm 'being', Wes. I'm 'being' out of this place." She slammed the door to his apartment, stuck her keys - his keys - into her pocket, and wiped the tears from her eyes, as she loaded on her bike - his bike - and revved the engine.
He liked his books and brooding so damned much, let him stay there with them. She slammed the throttle, and sped away, before she got so angry and worried she went in for round two.
~~~
Rick shuffled in his chair, crossing his fingers as he gazed wide-eyed at the chick in leather, who suddenly didn't look half as scary or intimidating.
Well, then she did, because she muttered another obscenity and slammed her hand on the table, putting a crack right through it.
Dan jumped, and gave a squeak, and Big Hair Debbie gave a smile of awe, while stupid glare-y guy in leather just gave this weird ass growl, but Cordelia and Fred never even blinked.
"God - Wesley was really..."
"Yeah." Faith swallowed hard, took another look at her vodka, and chugged it down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Some shit's really got into him."
"Must be going around." The tone was somber, and it came from Cordelia. The woman's hazel eyes shone with dark thought, and they locked eyes, shared some conversation that obviously, Rick wasn't included in.
"You're going out with a nerd?"
Faith didn't answer Dan, but she did flip him off. Twice.
"Now sweetie, I'm confused." Big Hair Debbie, once again oblivious to everything else, gave a twitch of her index finger. "You said you were worried that 'Angel'-"
Another growl from guy in leather.
"That's a fruity name," Dan offered.
"First name's Geraldo," Fred offered.
"-would turn evil?" Debbie finished, ignoring them all.
Faith stiffened, shared a glance with Cordelia, and once again, nobody but maybe Fred were invited to contemplate.
"You know, the way men go... evil sometimes." Fred said, stammering in a cute way that almost made Rick smile, if he wasn't so damned confused. "Cause, you know, after you really sleep with a guy, they tend to lose - you know, buying the cow-"
"Fred, shut up," Faith said.
"I better call and check up on Connor," Cordelia muttered, pulling out her cellphone.
Debbie was still lost. "So you're not sleeping with him?"
"Does it REALLY matter?"
"Who's Connor?"
"Angel's son," Fred said, wincing when Cordelia smacked her lightly.
"Can you give a LITTLE more detail, Fred?" Cordelia asked, rolling her eyes. "Geez. Why don't you tell them about Holtz while you're at it?"
"Sorry."
"Oh, give her a fucking break, Cordelia. She's pregnant-"
"Sorry, Fred." To her credit, Cordelia looked genuinely apologetic. "I just... I'm worried about Connor and Angel and... crap, I shouldn't even be here. Maybe we should just take care of the vis-"
"I'm not SURE if I'm pregnant, Faith-"
"So, you're really not having sex with Angel?" Everyone turned to stare at Debbie. She shrugged. "I'm sorry! It's rare!" she leaned forward. "You waitin', hon?"
Cordelia rolled her eyes, and kept the phone to her ear. "Can someone take away the shot glass from Bar Maid Sally over there? The alcohol is seeping into her brain cells."
"So, no sex, but you're taking care of his kid," Dan said, crossing his arms and he inspected her phone. "Nice role model. Sounds like the guy's got you on a short leash."
"Oh, fuck you." That was from Faith. "What kinda shit-"
"Cordelia, why DID you leave Kate with the baby?" Fred was worried, and perhaps it was that that made Cordelia pull the phone from her ear.
Cordelia swallowed, and her eyes looked soft and haggard as she again stared at Faith.
"Because, Fred. I couldn't trust Angel alone with him."
Rick's jaw dropped.
Oooh.
~~~
Look at this man so blessed with inspiration
Look at this soul still searching for salvation
I don't know much
But I know I love you
And that may be all I need to know
If she closed her eyes and breathed in, she could almost believe that this was normal. A normal mommy putting a normal baby to sleep while the oh-so-lazy normal father was downstairs sitting on his BIG FAT VAMPIRE ASS-
Okay, not normal. Not even close, really. But... nice. Because this whole pseudo-family Freudian situation was kind of sweet. The quiet closeness, the intimacy. Things were different than before, and it seemed they had finally found some eye of calm in the big ass hurricane they had been riding. Sure, there were still curse issues, and sure, she was semi-demon-y now and had no idea what that meant, and sure, Connor still had everyone and their baby sacrificing mother after him, but things had calmed down. Settled.
It was nice here. And it was a blessing. Really. It was a blessing that Connor was acting like a regular whiny baby who had been spoiled by being carried too much and now refused to sleep in his crib. And it was a blessing that he had a really loud scream. Really, cause it meant he was healthy. And that was good, right? Right?
"Come on, Connor, pleeeeease..." Cordelia whispered, jostling the baby as he squirmed in her arms, completely disregarding her very nice shirt by placing drool all over it. Her hand ran soothingly over his back, the warm body cradled against her as he cooed and chortled, sticking a drool soaked chubby fist on her cheek, smearing it. Cordelia barely noticed. She angled her neck and wiped it off absently on her face, pacing around the room and glaring at the door.
For a man who adored his son, Angel was sure being Mr. Neanderathal, here. Still, she had to hand it to him. The man had stamina. Connor adored his daddy with his all his little heart, and to say Angel returned the sentiment was an understatement. The vampire was a doter. Bigtime. In the last few weeks, she hadn't even had to drag herself out of bed, before he was back in it, placing the baby between them. She really had tried to murmur Dr. Spock's taken-to-heart advice, the one about a baby needing it's own space, and it being not of the good to get a baby used to the bed, and all that- but she had been so tired.
It was always easier to hold Connor and let Angel hold her. Half dreamt memories of dreams would slowly give way to reality, and it was nice.
A lot had been nice lately - and surprisingly easy to shift. Sure, there had been a problem or two (Groo, for instance), but on the whole - nice - and off. She continued to mutter distracted endearments to her baby (Angel's baby- not hers, and she had to keep reminding herself of that. Darla had staked herself for her kid, and although Cordy was never fond of Blond Bitch, that kind of love for a kid needed to be remembered) and rested her cheek on the crown of his hair, letting the doubt sink in just a bit.
Angel HAD been acting awfully... peppy the last couple days. Hungry all the time, and just... jumpy. It was just... off...
Still... maybe she was overreacting. Some psychological screw up in her brain - searching for a problem just because the world wasn't ending at that moment. That was wrong.
"Embrace it, Cor," she whispered finally, pressing a kiss to Connor's forehead, freezing when she felt the even breathing coming from the baby. Oh.... "Yes, baby. That's my good boy," she whispered, ever so careful as she sidled over to the crib, making sure to side step the teddy bear (and potential lawsuit) lying face first on the carpet. "Sleepy baby - good baby..."
Connor protested feebly, too weighted with sleep to make any real effort as she settled him into his crib. She waited with baited breath for a minute, and when he didn't stir, she collapsed against the crib, hand to her forehead, staring at the baby with a relieved sigh.
Yes, no problems, she thought, tracing a finger along Connor's soft silken cheek. Just bask in the pseudo domesticity.
"HOW'S MY BOY!"
Cordelia jumped, blinking and glaring when she realized that really WAS Angel standing in the doorway, guzzling the big ass glass of blood.
"ASLEEP!" she hissed, jumping and this time missing teddy bear. She yelped, and was caught in Angel's strong embrace before she slammed headfirst into the floor. Thank GOD her boyfriend was a vampire with super speed. "Thanks," she said breathlessly. "But if you wake him, I will kill you."
Angel grinned, a toothy grin that was kinda red thanks to the blood. "Not a chance of that," he said. A finger traced her chin, and when he leaned down, she firmly planted her hands on his chest.
"Nuh-uh, buster. I love you, but bloody kiss? NOT romantic." At his cocked eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. "Fine, not NOW. Go brush." The growl she got was cute, she would admit that, but she still turned and shoved him toward the bathroom. Splashes were heard, and she smiled, shaking her head, rubbing at her neck as she turned, found her eyes drawn to the big glass of the red stuff. Cordelia frowned. How many glasses had he had today? Like... eight?
Compared to his usual two?
"Angel..."
"Hmm?" A soft sigh of pleasure escaped her when a hard body pressed against her back, strong arms encircled her waist, and he managed to find just the spot that always made her arch against him. "All minty fresh," he whispered, his chuckle buried as his mouth suckled gently on her earlobe.
Cordelia almost purred, lost in pure sensation as he rubbed gently against her, slowly moving his hips, grinding deliberately, a soft rhythm that always managed to make her shudder. Her eyes closed, breathing erratic now, one hand slipping and stealing up to curl around his neck, pushing his lips closer into her.
She would say this about him - he damned well knew what to do with her neck.
Drifting thoughts became pure mush now, as he continued to slowly pump against her, holding her firmly against his hardening body, and her body- good God, her BODY - it felt everything, every curve and every muscle, with a sensitized emotion that left her hot and aching.
Her heart jolted when a thumb slipped under her shirt, a gasp escaped and he chuckled again, feeling her writhe as the cool digit slipped up, and up, until it found its way, along with the rest of his hand, to her left breast.
"Nuh... ANGEL," she managed raggedly, her fingers forming a tangled fist in his hair as he bucked his hips, pushing his erection into her backside just as his hand cupped her breast, thumb teasing the nipple.
Oh, God.
"Shhh, baby," he whispered in her ear, and she didn't realize her hips were moving back, trying desperately to keep him close, until he pushed back into HER. "Just feel it, Cordy..." She moaned when he left her breast, and found her heartbeat accelerating when his hand moved slower, mouth still painting wet, erotic circles on her jaw and neck, and dipped under the elastic of her black pants.
Oh... oh... "Angel..." He grunted when she jerked against him, a rhythm he was only too glad to follow, holding her so close, so close. Cordelia's head fell back against his shoulder, mouth parting as unseen fingers slipped lower, and lower... and...
"Cordelia-"
"Oh, God..." His lips fumbled for her, and she turned, blind to anything but her writhing hips and his fingers painting searing trails between her thighs, her mouth catching his, tangling her tongue, sucking his into her mouth, intelligible moans coming from her...
"What?" he asked thickly.
"We have to stop," she whispered, shaking as her weak grip tried to stop Angel's fingers, tried to pull him away from her heat...
"Unless someone has a hose..."
"CURSE, Angel..."
He jerked his hand away, stepped away, and she nearly fell, the loss of contact almost too much. There was a very plaintive cry of protest, eyes glazed with lust as she whirled, found him standing, sucking on his fingers, staring straight at her.
GOD.
"So don't make me perfectly happy," he whispered, "Remind me of all the crap, Cordy, but please God - don't kill me by not letting me touch you..."
This was dangerous, it was, but he was so damn far away, and her sweaty body was already cold, shivers uncontrollable, body aching for him. He stepped forward, careful not to touch her, and Cordelia panted, almost crazy with want when he leaned forward, and slowly, placed a kiss on her lips.
"I'm a vampire," he whispered, pressing another kiss to her lips, lingering to swirl his tongue over her bottom lip. "I won't forget what I am... I don't want to forget... If I weren't a vampire," he leaned forward, and her eyes closed, breasts heaving as his chest brushed against them, "I wouldn't be able to smell you, the way you feel, the way you want me..." the growl that came off nearly undid her, and she felt the smirk on his lips, when they opened against her, a hint of a fang sliding across her mouth. "You love the vampire," he whispered, "You want the vampire... so why should I forget?"
"God, I hate you sometimes," she whispered breathlessly, but the battle was already won, because his hands were around her waist, and her mouth was tilting, burying into his own, wet and hot and open. "You turn evil," she managed, fumbling with his buttons as he backed toward the bed, nearly dragging her with him, "And I'll be REALLY pissed."
"You wanna slap me?" he asked, eyes glistening an almost gold as he pulled up her shirt, moving back only to let her jerk back the lapels of his shirt. "Arms up- once in a while, just in case?"
"And how do I know that a little S & M won't give you your jollies?" she retorted, pulling his head down for another drug filled embrace, melting against him when he pushed aside the bra to grab onto a breast. She shuddered, mind exploding as he teased her. "Harder," she managed, and he growled again. This time, she felt the vibration more than she heard it, and it made her keen, arching against him, mouth clinging to his as she spread her hands over his chest, burying her face into his neck.
"You think that's S & M? Baby, we've got a lot of learning to do..."
"Shut up," she ordered, pushing him back onto the bed, a smile that seemed absolute evil on her face as she crawled over his body, found his 'little Angel' at full attention, only inches away from her now. She watched it twitch, fascinated. She was really evil, she knew, for giving it that little lick, covered in that cloth, and then ignoring it completely as she traveled up his chest, and she knew he thought so too, when he groaned, arms slipping around her and crushing her to him, hips crashing against hers. She moaned at the contact.
"Evil vixen," he whispered, moments before she was desperately kissing him, the rough and tumble different from his usual way, as he rolled, landed her onto her back, settling between her thighs, rocking slowly.
"Huhnnn..." she managed, arching her hips as he pumped his hips against her, blocked mercilessly by two sets of barriers.
"Mean ole' Cordy," he managed, nuzzling the valley between her breasts -
~~~
"Oh, forget sex, honey," Debbie said, "You just keep doing that."
Cordelia blinked. "Huh?"
~~~
She groaned, rocking against him as he turned his head, captured a breast with his lips, and sucked in with a force he had never used before. It was hard and rough and different, but it nearly made her explode. "Angel... GOD-"
"Gotta be such a tease, baby..." He bucked into her, tongue swirling around her breast, "Come on, Cordy... I love you, I love you-"
His hands slid down her ribs, grabbed a hold of her waist band , and pulled at the pants. FINALLY. Cordelia almost growled herself, pulling him up with surprising strength to feel his chest settled on top of hers ( and DAMN it felt good), his forehead resting against hers as she fumbled with his belt, hips moving to let her grab the zipper, jerk down, reach inside and close her hand around his rock hard - And that was the moment that Connor chose to start screaming his head off.
~~~
"OH, COME ON!" Dan yelled, slamming down his tie. Rick groaned, sinking under the bar and holding the now condensing beer bottle against his forehead.
"Pretty much what Angel said," Cordelia said matter-of-factly.
~~~
"No," he whispered, frozen above her. Connor's little cry continued to come from the crib. Cordelia held her breath, closed her eyes, heart dropping. "Ignore him," he whispered, suddenly moving again, pressing kisses to her lips, her forehead, her cheeks. "He'll stop crying..."
"Angel-"
"He'll stop eventually," he whispered, voice desperate now, capturing her lips in another kiss. "Come on, Cordy."
But Connor wouldn't stop, and Cordelia knew that. Connor cried, and he cried until he got picked up. She groaned, pushing at Angel. "Angel-"
"SHUT UP!" he growled at the baby, and she froze, hazel eyes widening in surprise before darkening in anger.
"ANGEL!" She pushed again, moving out from under him, grabbing her shirt. "What's WRONG with you?"
He glared, pounded at the mattress before launching up, jerking at his belt before he went for his glass of blood.
"Connor needs-"
"He needs a lot of things, every day," he snapped, gulping down the glass.
She stared, shaking her head and moving toward the crib. "Well... yeah. He's a baby."
"Connor needs a bath, Connor needs a bottle, what Connor needs is to grow up!"
The anger was so unexpected, and yeah, he was frustrated, but ... Geez. She cooed at the baby, sending angry vibes at the horny father as she cradled him to her. "Shh..." she whispered, turning back to find Angel still gulping down. "Something wrong?" she asked pointedly.
"Gosh, no, Cordelia. Everything's just great! I got a kid that cries, pees and moans, and never gives me a moment to myself."
"What is wrong with you?" she snapped, understanding for Angel's blueballs diminished completely by anger when little Connor shuddered in his emotion under her palm. "He's just a baby! It's not like he knows-"
"He keeps it up he's not gonna be a baby for long!" The shattering of the glass made her jump, eyes widened as suddenly there was blood all over the south wall, a testament to Angel's anger, and loss of self control.
"ANGEL," she breathed, horrified.
"What the..." The new voice made them both turn, and Faith stood in the doorway, completely stunned.
Cordelia saw Angel, the stunned look, the horrified realization-
"Get a fucking grip right NOW, Angel," Faith said, moving around him to stand in front of Cordelia and the baby.
Cordelia kept her grip on Connor, fear sliding into her veins as Angel shook now, staring at the blood, and staring at her, dark brown eyes near panic.
"What... Cordy-"
"Angel-" But he turned, shuddering as he moved toward the door. "ANGEL!"
He was already gone, and Faith and Cordelia could do nothing but stare at each other.
~~~
"I'm confused." Dan blinked, rubbing his fingers through his hair. "The V-8 made him crazy? What, too many vitamins?"
"I don't know... but he has been drinking a lot of... V-8, lately," Fred mumbled. "I didn't... notice because... of... well... me."
"I should have," Cordelia rubbed at her arms, eyes closing. "I knew. I KNEW and I still didn't..."
"Sweetie, if a man is giving me that kinda loving, I'd find it hard to think, too," Debbie said, patting her. Cordelia rolled her eyes.
"So..." Rick pursed his lips. "What would he have done if Faith hadn't walked in there?"
"Nothing," Cordelia's voice was fast and defensive. "Angel would never hurt Connor, or me."
"Because of V-8?" Dan was still confused.
"Oh, for Chrissakes." The glowering Jake finally erupted in a raspy voice. "You bunch of retards! Angel's a vampire! With a fucking soul! He's not drinking V-8, he's drinking blood!"
"Like a Bloody Mary?" Rick asked.
"Baby, I was gonna wait until we left before we staked your ass, but if you don't shut the fuck up right now, I'll take it care of it in two seconds," Faith said, placing what appeared to be a long pointed stick on the table.
Jake glared, Faith glared right back. Rick blinked.
"Vampires?"
"Woah, now wait," Rick came forward hastily, placing shot glasses on the table. "No violence here, okay? I don't know what kind of code 'vampires' means, but we're just friends, here."
Jake snorted. Debbie patted him. "He's very drunk."
"I'm NOT DRUNK," he roared. "I'm telling the truth-" he was blocked from saying anything further when his chair was overturned, and a pair of leather pants held him down. Rick's jaw dropped when Faith slammed the point into his chest, and suddenly the entire guy erupted into dust.
"Woah." Dan was the first to recover. "That's gonna be a bitch to clean up."
"What the..." Debbie blinked. "Where'd he go?"
"Magic," Cordelia mumbled into her drink. "Like a rabbit."
"Well, dayam!" Debbie planted her hands on her waist and pouted at Faith. "He was gonna give me a ride home!"
"We'll pay for a fucking cab, okay?" Faith said, plopping back into her seat.
Rick blinked (for what seemed the hundredth time), and turned to find a woman and man entering. "We're closed!" he yelped, coming forward. "Sorry! Come back again!" He shrugged when everyone seated gave him blank looks. "What if another one goes all magic and turns to dust? I really hate sweeping."
"I like that guy," Faith said.
A flush came from behind them, and Fred emerged from the bathroom. "Sorry," she mumbled, looking a little green. "I just... had to... where'd Jake go?"
"Nevermind the Dust Buster," Dan said. He turned to Cordelia. "This guy of yours? He's really bad news, and I think that-"
"Why didn't you follow him, sweetie?" Debbie asked. "A man that can do THAT with just foreplay-"
"Oh, geez-"
"Just sayin'! That means a lot!"
"We would have," Faith said, eyes only on Fred as she helped the girl into her chair. "If it hadn't been for the fact that we found Fred, instead, kicking the living shit out of her boyfriend."
The stares turned in the elfin girl's direction, and she was distracted long enough from Cordelia's fussing to mumble, "Oh dear... my turn?"
~~~
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