Written for Jypzrose, and fondly dedicated to her.
But a Dream
“I know it's not even close to over, but I do feel like I can do
this. Wolfram & Hart, whatever's coming, I feel like we can beat
it.”
Cordelia smiled as she sat next to Angel and lightly rested her hand on his knee.
“I know,” she assured him quietly; she noticed the flash of surprise on his face.
“You do?”
Her smile widened a little. Clueless as ever, he was her Angel, no doubt about it.
“I always did. I... I just needed you to know it, too.”
Realization finally struck.
“So all that stuff about the deals with the devil...”
“Was God's honest truth,” she nodded. “But you're bigger than that. You'll win this in the end.”
She could feel her throat tightening a little, as she corrected herself. “We will.”
Even with his hints from earlier in the day, she couldn’t help feeling
jittery about this, about him, about them. A lot had happened since
that missed rendezvous a year and half before. A lot for each of them
to forget if they ever were to find that path again.
“We will,” Angel repeated softly. His hand came to rest on top of hers
on his knee, and when she turned it so that they would lie palm to
palm, he looked at her almost shyly. It was easy, so very easy, to
forget his real age when he looked so vulnerable, and she reached to
cup his face in her hand.
“That means… You’ll stay here with us?”
She wanted to say yes, promise that she would never leave, but she knew
better than that. She had been offered a few hours, but eventually...
“Someone has to keep you in line,” she answered, sidestepping the question. “Might as well be me.”
Or at least, the memory of me, she added silently.
She could see the instant when he started to believe. There was
suddenly a quiet light burning in his gaze, a flame of hope that hadn’t
been there before. He had been hurt; there was no denying it. But he
would heal. He was healing, right there in front of her eyes, with only
a few words and quiet touches. She only wished it wasn’t all just
temporary.
Slowly, savoring each passing second and the delightful certainty of
now, she leaned toward him, toward his lips and his nervousness,
forgetting her own.
“Cordelia,” he breathed, and closed his eyes as their mouths met.
The kiss was chaste, at first, so light that it felt almost surreal.
Nothing more than a dream, and she had dreamed this one often enough to
enjoy it becoming true at last. She couldn’t have said which of them
deepened it first. Their tongues slid against each other, stroking and
exploring, learning to please and to receive with the same gentleness.
It was unlike any kiss Cordelia had shared before. For an instant, it
made her regret bitterly all their lost time, and she wondered…
“Is something wrong?”
Angel’s words were a caress on her lips when he pulled back, breaking
the kiss but not the touch as their foreheads rested against each
other. She hesitated, loathing showing any doubt when they had so
little time.
“Did we wait too long?” she murmured at last. “Is it too late before we even…”
“No.”
The word was strong, if quiet, and backed by a trembling kiss. She
wasn’t the only one afraid here; somehow, it made things easier.
“It’s not too late. Not unless we say it is, and I refuse to even consider it.”
She stroked his cheek lightly and forced herself to smile. They weren’t
the only ones who had a word in this, here, and as much as she wanted
to believe, she knew that the Powers had other plans for her. For now,
though, Angel was hers. And she desperately wanted to be his.
She took a deep breath, and finally said the words. “I love you.”
Angel’s lips twitched and curled up in a smile. “I love you too.”
“Then show me.”
The hesitation was brief, but it was there, a quick blink that didn’t
mask a glint of fear. The curse, the soul, always there even if they
didn’t speak of it. Yet, Cordelia was sure, completely certain and
willing to bet her fragile life on it, that Angel was in no danger. He
had lost his son, was the head of what he possibly hated most in the
world; there would be no perfect happiness that night, possibly not
ever.
He seemed to realize that too, or he simply chose not to care, and
buried his face in her throat at the same time as he reached for the
flimsy buttons that held her blouse closed. Caught up in what his lips,
tongue and teeth were doing to the sensitive flesh over her pulse
point, she barely noticed when a button, then another, popped loose.
As more skin was revealed, his mouth traveled, burning a sensual trail
over her collarbone, shoulder, chest, until she was clutching the back
of his shirt, her breath coming out in short pants, unsure whether to
push him away or pull him closer as the sensations became too much, and
at the same time never enough.
Time sped up as they realized the position was too awkward, and they
moved, grinning at each other, laughing like children as they divested
each other of their respective clothing. The laughs quieted, as they
stood naked in front of each other, man and woman at last, without
anything or anyone left standing between them. Half a step, and their
bodies touched, molding tightly until Cordelia wasn’t sure anymore
where her own flesh stopped, and where his started. Then he was above
her, in her, around her, and she drowned in the love, care and
tenderness she could feel in each touch of his hands or lips, hear in
the whispered promises he was offering her. She forgot that it was
nothing but a dream and let herself fly with him.
It certainly wasn’t what Angel had imagined when dreaming of his first
time with Cordelia – an office? A sofa? Romance was dead, no doubt
there – but it didn’t matter in the slightest. They would have time for
comfortable beds, candles, and soothing music later. For the moment,
having her right here, nestled against his chest as the sun slowly lit
the town in front of them was more than enough. It meant the world to
him, in fact. A reason to keep fighting, when he had been so close to
giving up, heaven and hell be damned.
As lightly as he could, he ran his fingers in the short curls of his
lover’s hair. Lovely. More than ever, maybe, because now he could
rightfully call her his. His girl. His Cordelia. And if he didn’t
believe in forever, he could at least try his best to make what they
had last as long as possible.
The phone rang. Cordelia shifted in his arms, and he cursed inwardly against whoever had broken her peaceful rest.
“Morning, Angel,” she murmured against his collarbone.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Good morning.”
The phone kept ringing. Someone, he swore to himself, would be without a job before the end of the day.
“You should get that,” she advised him as she sat up. He tried to tell
her that he didn’t, hating the idea of leaving her for even a minute,
but she wouldn’t hear it; and eventually he rose and went to his phone,
smiling at the soft ‘love you’ that trailed after him.
“Hello. Yes, I know. She's... but that's impossible. She's right here…”
Frowning, he turned back to the sofa. Cordelia was gone. What the hell was going on?
“When did you say she woke up? And she’s… you’re sure she’s fine?”
Reassurances came, and Angel couldn’t stop the shaking of his hands.
“She wants to see me? I’ll be right there.”
As he put the phone down, he glanced back to the sofa, his eyes misting
up. Whatever had happened, he knew it had meant something, meant much
more than what he knew. He had been given a precious gift, and he would
cherish it – cherish her – as long as he was allowed to.
“Thank you,” he said, choked up, to the empty room, and dressed to join Cordelia.
Home ~ Other pairings
The characters and names used in these stories do not belong to me. All copyrights remain with Fox and Mutant Enemy. No profit is made from this fanfiction.
