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I'm taking a ride With my best friend I hope he never lets me
down again Promises me I'm as safe
as houses As long as I remember
who's wearing the trousers I hope he never lets me
down again -
Depeche Mode, Never Let Me Down "C'mon,
guys, time's a-wastin'," Cordy called. Her heels clicked against the
Hyperion's polished floors and the familiar masculine scent of the hotel slipped
into her senses, weaving a comforting spell. Sometimes,
she thought with a sigh, the hotel felt more like home than her own ap She
rubbed her arm and could still feel the fire-crisped skin, brushed her fingers
across her stomach and flinched at the sense-memory of claws imbedding
themselves in her body. Feeling
safe at home was a commodity now, a rare thing. Which sucked, because it came at
a time when she wanted familiar. When she needed the emotional equivalent of hot
chocolate and macaroni and cheese. She’d
lost her innocence a long time ago, she thought, as she crossed the lobby. She
knew the world wasn’t a safe place. But a personal attack—in her own
home—was a different thing. The
only good thing about that whole night was the way she felt when Angel held her
hand. Just
two things wrong with this picture, Cor, she thought as leaned against the
reception desk. Dwelling
wasn’t her deal. And
Angel wasn't her safe harbor. So
she gave an old-fashioned, Queen C toss of her hair and reminded herself why
she'd called this little p And
if she had to write it on her forehead in magic marker, she was gonna remember
that. Fred
clomped down the stairs in her platform sandals. "Hey, Cordy. You look
great!" Cordy glanced down at her strapless black dress, which was skin-tight and black and ended just above her knees. It cupped every dip and curve, and as she walked, the outrageous side slits exposed her legs from knee to hipbone.
It
was her statement against the near miss of living life as the Elephant Man. Fred
smiled, a nervous twitch of lips. "Where are the guys?" "One
of us is right here." Wes stood the doorway. He looked like the daytime
version of himself, only spiffier. The suit pants cut a little more narrow
across the hips, the open shirt with a brighter pattern. "Hey,"
Cordy said. "Where's Gunn?" "I
assume he'll be here any moment. You look lovely," he said to Fred. Fred
blushed and looked down at her silk slip-dress. "Thanks.” She glanced at
him from under her lashes, though on her, the look was more shy than seductive. Gunn
walked in right on cue, wearing a long-sleeved heather polo tucked into
flat-front pants. "Hey, Fred, nice dress." Fred
beamed. "Thanks.” Her eyes widened. "Um, do I have time to…?"
She nodded toward the bathroom. "Sure."
Cordy cocked an eyebrow at the guys. "Don't I get a 'you look nice,'
too?" "Oh,
Cordelia." Wes pushed his glasses up his nose. "Of course. You
look...." "It's
just--" Gunn said, "--Fred, you know, going out for a night on the
town? Gotta support her as she makes the big steps." Wes
nodded. "And you always look fabulous, so...." "Why
mention it," Cordy said. "Yeah."
Gunn nodded. "Exactly." "Okay,
now I'm ready." Fred came out of the bathroom, looking breathless and
flushed. Cordy
watched as both men turned to her, eyes glinting appreciatively over friendly
smiles. Her shoulders slumped as she bent down to retrieve her bag. "The
cab should be here…." There was a honk from the curb. "Right about
now," Fred said, with a freshly-lipsticked smile. Cordy’s
shoulders went back and her head came up. No brooding for her, no sirree. She
brushed past the guys on her way out of the lobby. Speaking of brooding....
"What about Angel? I thought he was coming." "He
was gonna try to track down Merle," Wes said, ushering Fred onto the
sidewalk. "He said he'd stop by." Cordy
followed, locking up behind them. "I'm sure well see him later, then."
She snorted. "'Cause you know how he is with the dancing." Gunn
held out his hand to help her into the cab. "Yeah. Michael friggin' Flatley."
Cordy
was laughing as he squeezed in next to her and closed the door. ***
"What
do you want to drink?" Wes shouted over the thumping music. "Something
that comes with a cabana boy," Cordy shouted back. Wes’s
lips twitched. “If those are in short supply, will a tiny umbrella do?” “You
bet.” She turned to Gunn and Fred. “Gonna hit the floor. You game?” Fred
looked like she had a terrible case of stage fright. “I—um—“ She
swallowed hard. Gunn
leaned his elbows on the table. “I think Fred and I will chill here for
awhile. Why don’t you hang till Wes gets back with the drinks?” "Thanks,
but no." Because
she hadn’t come here to watch everyone else have fun. “You’ll
babysit the table?” Gunn
nodded. “Cool.”
Leaving them at the
table, she pushed to the center of the crowd, drawn by the need to lose herself
in its wildly beating he It
was like being at the Bronze, only better. Hotter, looser, with a darker vibe
that suited her mood perfectly. A much better spell than the Lilah Special, she
thought, raising her arms over her head and letting the music fill every pore. It
had a way of cleansing her. The throb and lull, the way the sweat worked under
her skin, chasing away the memory of being taken over by the visions. Of being
slashed, burned, wrecked by them. Someone
laid a hand on her shoulder and she jumped. Wes
leaned close and yelled in her ear, "Your cabana boy is here." "Be
right there." He nodded and left her there, where she stayed until the song
faded. When
she reached their table Wes handed her a tall, thin glass. "Got two,"
he said, nodding toward the extra. "Figured you'd be getting warm." "Thanks,"
she said. The drink tasted like spiked pineapple and looked like it belonged
poolside with its little pink umbrella. "You guys having fun?" Fred
slurped her pina colada like it was an Icee. "I haven't been to a bar
in...forever." A wistful look passed over her face and she glanced down at
her drink. Wes patted her hand companionably and she smiled up at him. "We
haven't been out in forever, either.” Gunn leaned his head back and took a
pull on his beer. Cordy
nodded, noticing the way he filled out the soft fabric of his shirt, how his
throat moved as he drank. She shot him a flirty glance. Gunn
caught it and threw it back, a smile warming his eyes. Cordy’s
mood felt like it had been hooked onto a string and pulled toward the sky. It
was an almost physical lifting. A little booze, a few hot men, loud music….
"I, for one, am gonna solve that problem by getting drunk. 'Cause alcohol
and seriousness? Can't coexist in the same body.” "Well,
I call for a toast, then." Gunn raised his beer. The odd assortment of
glasses clinked. "To cutting loose." "Oh,
yeah," Cordy said. "Way loose." She swigged the rest of the
drink, reveling in the cool, liquid fire. "Good thing you got me two,"
she said, setting her empty glass next to the full one. She almost sighed with
relief as the tingly warmth of a good buzz st Wes's
eyes glinted behind his glasses. "There’s more where that came from.”
Then he leaned his elbows on the table and turned to Fred, who was quietly
bending her straw into origami-like shapes. "So, how's the theorem on time
progressing?" Fred's
face lit up. "Oh, I'm way past that!” She angled toward him and dropped
the straw. Cordy
turned to Gunn who was watching the crowd with sharp eyes. "See anything
you like?" He
winked at her. "Besides what's right in front of me?" “Sh’yeah.
And don’t forget it.” She set her glass on the table. "Wanna
dance?" "Absolutely.”
The
raunchy beat hit her somewhere in the solar plexus, mixing with the alcohol and
loosening her limbs. Gunn danced like he fought, tough and focused. He wrapped
his arms loosely around her waist, guiding her against him. The
floor was packed, the energy building. She let the wave carry her, let it wash
her mind free of everything but the dance. Eventually
Gunn shouted in her ear. "Nature’s calling.” Cordy
nodded. "I'll stay here." He
waved over his shoulder, leaving Cordy alone. The
music poured over her and she sucked in a breath, glorying in the rush of air
through her lungs. Her dress and hair clung to her damp body, tickling her
sensitized skin. She drew her arms slowly over her head, closed her eyes and
dissolved into the sound. Someone
came up behind her, scooting in close enough that she could feel the bump of his
knees against her thighs. "Dance with me.” Was
that Angel’s familiar rasp? She whirled. “Hey,
didn’t mean to scare you.” Right
voice. Wrong guy. He was good-looking but totally different. Shorter, trimmer. A
much better dresser. She
realized then that she'd stopped dancing, and that her disappointment must have
registered on her face. So she smiled. "Sorry. I just thought you were
someone I knew." “Really?”
He st Her
smile widened. “Not unless you’re into Hellmouths.” His
forehead wrinkled. “Huh?” She
laughed and let him draw her back into the swirl of color and light. "So
this…friend. He is just a friend, right?” Cordy
nodded. "Just a friend.” "Good."
He held out his hand. She
took it, st He
spun her out gracefully then brought her in just close enough that her breasts
brushed against his chest. Cordy was surprised to feel her body respond. How
long since anyone made her feel like that? Not
as co-worker or a friend, but as a beautiful, desirable woman. She
moved with him experimentally, deliberately pushing past her comfort zone.
Dropping her walls, unpinning her inhibitions. As the music moved through her,
she pressed closer, letting that first wave of sparkling heat grow. ***
"Hey,"
Angel called. "I didn't think I was going to find you." He’d already
taken in the shadowed corners, the crush of people and the spinning lights. He
hated these places. They gave him a headache. "Angel!"
Fred yelled, patting his arm tipsily. "You’re here!" “Good
meeting?” Wes asked. “Eh,
Merle didn’t show. Jimmy said he’d moved back to Wes
nodded. “Yeah. Want some?” “Nah.
I’m about to leave. I just stopped by ‘cause Cordy said I wouldn’t.” He
scanned the tables nearest them. “Where is she, anyway?" "She
and Gunn were dancing a moment ago." Wes gestured toward the writhing mass
of bodies with his glass. Angel
turned toward the dance floor. Tried to make sense of the kaliedscope. “I
don’t see—“ The crowd shifted and fell into a recognizable pattern of
bodies. “Oh.” His eyes narrowed. “Wow.” "Yeah.”
Wes rattled the ice in his glass. “You can dress her up *and* take her out.”
Angel
leaned an elbow on the table. "Who's she with?" Wes
shrugged. "One of her many admirers, I suppose." "Because
she has admirers.” Fred nodded sagely. "She's Cordelia." Gunn
slipped in at Angel’s elbow. "Hey, Angel.” "Gunn.” He inclined his head but didn’t take his eyes off of Cordy. When was the last time he’d seen her dress up, have a good time? Before they moved to the hotel? It was good she was enjoying herself….
But
did she have to do it quite so much? And with someone he didn’t know? ***
The
music changed then, going from the bright house beat to something darker and
more intense. The woman behind her let out a howl as she recognized the song and
Cordy willingly followed its classic dark-dance groove into the shadow lands. I'm
taking a ride with my best friend I
hope he never lets me down again She
smiled, a wry twist of lips. "What?"
her dance p "Oh...nothing,"
she replied, getting into the slow, thrust-parry of hips the beat demanded. "Thinking
about that friend again?" He gave her a mock glare. “Maybe.”
She glanced at him from under her lashes. His
hands slid up and up until they tangled in her hair. "How about you forget
him and concentrate on me?" She
shivered and closed her eyes. He was right, she thought, nearly purring at the
feel of his fingers on her nape. This was the first time in months she'd
connected with someone outside of work. And she should make the most of it. But the lyrics kept edging her back to Angel.
Her best friend.
The
guy she was taking the ride of her life—and probably her death—with. So
she stepped closer, close enough that their foreheads touched and their breaths
mingled between them like steam. We're
flying high We're
watching the world pass us by Never
gonna come down Never
gonna put my feet back down on the ground It
was a dance fueled by alcohol and loneliness. She knew that. Accepted it. But
maybe it was time to stop watching the world pass her by. Maybe
it was time to jump into whatever life was offering her, feet first. Her
conscious mind clicked off, leaving behind nothing but her humming, throbbing
body. Around her the crowd danced, their footfalls like tribal drums. ***
"Any
luck with Merle?" Gunn yelled. Angel's
attention back to the group. “Nah.” “He
moved to “Mr.
Akron?” Gunn asked. He
and Fred exploded into laughter. Angel
winced and moved Fred’s empty glass across the table with the back of his
hand. “Maybe you shouldn’t let her have any more,” he told Wes. Wes
nodded. “Good thinking.” Angel
stuck his hands in his pockets. “So, how long should I stand her and wait?
Because—“ "Oh,
hey, I love this song," Fred said, moving her bird-wing shoulders in time
to the beat. A glazed smile came over her. “Reminds me of this once when I
dressed up all Goth for a Halloween— Oh, wow. Cordy sure does know how to
dirty dance.” She leaned on her elbows, wide-eyed. Angel
blinked. Sure, he’d known she was a cheerleader but…. Damn, she was limber. Okay,
wait a minute. Was that dress even street legal? He
watched as she ran her hands up her p Angel
clenched his fists. After everything she’d been through—Wilson Christopher,
torture in Pylea, the whole thing with that bitch, Lilah…. Didn’t she know
people weren’t friendly? That you couldn’t just…reach out into a crowd and
grab the nearest guy and…. He
turned away from the view of Cordy wrapping her leg around her p ***
In
her more sober moments, she would never allow herself to admit what she was
feeling. But in her more sober moments, she wouldn't have wrapped her leg around
a stranger’s ass, either. Her
hips moved, pumping against his, and she found herself struggling to remember
who held her, who was fueling the rush of heat in her veins. She
was courting a desire that was both delicious and forbidden. She knew she
shouldn't think of him this way, but now that her body was firing, she just
couldn't seem to stop. She
got tired of locking out the feelings, comp In
her mind, it wasn't the man standing in front of her that she was thrusting
against. It
was Angel. "You
look too serious,” he whispered. His breath was hot in her ear, hot and alive.
“What are you thinking about, anyway?” “Macaroni
and cheese.” He
pulled back, stared down at her then burst out laughing. “You’re crazy.”
Then his mouth came down on hers. The
world spun crazily as their lips connected and the rest of the song became white
noise under the roaring of her blood. That's
right, she thought hazily. Get him out of my head. Spin me out of control. Make
me forget. Everything.
His
tongue swirled in then danced back out. He nipped her teasingly, changing the
angle, building the fire. Mouths fused, tongues dueled, teeth nibbled. They
pulled back, gasping. "You're
so beautiful," he murmured, running his lips over her ear. "I wanted
you the minute I saw you." He slipped his leg between hers and pulled her
to him. She
moaned long and deep and cupped her hands around his back to hold him steady so
she could thrust against the hard muscle of his leg. The heat between her thighs
melted and flowed like lava. Oh,
God. It had been too, too long. He
groaned and buried his face in her hair. Around them, the pulsing music and
flashing lights fueled the fantasy of perfect strangers, perfect sex. Cordy's
head swirled. "Let's
get out of here," he whispered harshly, clutching her to him. "Yes,"
Cordy gasped, letting him take her hand and pull her out the back door and into
the alley. ***
Angel
st In
the back of his mind he heard Gunn ask Fred to dance, heard her turn him down.
And then heard her say, “Hey, where'd Cordy go?" It
took a minute to cut through the static in his brain, but then the meaning
clicked. Angel
whirled, peering through the crowd. Out
the corner of his eye he saw Wes lean forward. "I don't see her
either." A
look flashed between Wes and Gunn. "That guy," Gunn said. "Yeah,"
Wes replied. "What?"
Fred squeaked. Angel
was on them. "You guys take the front. I'll cover the alley.” ***
They
spilled out into the warm
No
one could touch her, no one could stop her-- Her
back hit the concrete wall and she cried out breathlessly and scratched her
nails down his back, moaning when his teeth found her throat. Cordy pulled him
to her, wanting to feel the full length of his body against hers. Then he slid his hands up her thighs, his palms coming up under her dress to cup her ass, and her mind fogged.
He
hissed as he found the thong. "You trying to kill me, here?" Cordy
licked her lips and pressed her breasts to him. Her nipples felt hot and hard as
stones. "Is it working?" She slid her hands around his waist and her
fingers fumbled in his belt buckle. ***
Angel
kicked the door open, not bothering to apologize to the couple who had plastered
themselves together in the relative privacy of the dark hallway. The alley
stunk, like they always did, and the streetlight had been blown out, leaving
behind a long, dark canyon. The harsh fluorescent glare of the security lamps on
the corner of the building penetrated only so far into the gloom. He heard a cry.
"Cordelia,"
he said, running toward the sound. The
guy had her pinned to the wall and she was squirming frantically, mouth open.
"Get off of her," Angel said, grabbing the guy by the shoulder and
yanking him back. "What
the hell?" he asked, stumbling drunkenly. "I
said, get off of her," Angel growled. The guy took a wobbly swing. Angel caught his fist in mid-air and held it, tempted to crush the fragile bones. Instead he wrapped his other hand around the guy's throat. Speaking of fragile bones....
He
smiled as he tightened his grip. "Angel?"
Cordy’s voice was laced with confusion. He
knew she couldn't see him in the darkened alley, so he answered quietly.
"Yeah, you okay?" There was a moment of strained silence. Then it hit
him. Desire.
The
sweet, humid smell of it permeated the air and when he looked at her he could
see its telltale signs. Wide pupils, flushed skin, nipples puckered into tight,
hard peaks. Oh,
God. He dropped the guy like a vial of holy water. "I’m sorry-- I thought—“ He turned away, not wanting to look at her.
So
stripped, so vulnerable, so…open. "Wait,"
the guy rasped, hand to his throat. "I thought you said he wasn't your
boyfriend," he said, still sucking air in big gulps. Angel
stepped back. "No! I'm just a friend. Who's leaving," he finished,
moving swiftly toward the mouth of the alley. "Angel!"
Cordy called. "Wait! What's going on?" She st Angel
kept walking, unable to get the picture of her, consumed by desire, out of his
mind. He needed to leave. Now. Before he did something else that hurt someone. Behind
him he heard a muffled conversation, then retreating footsteps, and the door to
the club slammed shut. He stopped walking and leaned his head against the brick
wall, undone by what had just happened. "Angel."
He
straightened his shoulders and turned. "I'm sorry," he said again. He
could still smell her, fragrant and hot as the jungle floor. God. He scrubbed
his hands over his face. He
didn’t want to know this about her. Didn’t want to know how she smelled, how
she looked— She
put her hand on his arm. "Thanks," she said. "For
what?" Add confusion to the list of emotions churning through him. "For
taking care of me." She looked back at the club, realizing she'd lost her
first chance to get laid in more than a year. She should be pissed. Instead she
felt cherished, protected. Hot
chocolate. Macaroni and cheese. How did they suddenly get sexy? She
ran her hands through her hair, pulling the heated strands off her neck. She was
absolutely going insane. No question about it. Angel's
eyes tracked her movements with predatory accuracy. "Um, your dress, Cordy,"
he gritted, turning his head away again. She
looked down and realized that the dress was exposing a heck of a lot more than
the designer meant for it to. "Oh, right," she whispered. A wave of
embarrassment washed over her as she tugged it into place. When
she looked up, Angel was still standing there looking at his shoes. "Angel!"
Wes yelled from the street, his voice frantic. "We're
here," Cordy called, shifting uncomfortably on her four-inch heels. She ran
her hands up and down her arms, suddenly feeling chilled as reality and the cool
night air caught up with her. "Here,"
Angel said, shrugging out of his duster and wrapping it around her. The
coat carried no body heat, but it was permeated with his scent.
"Thanks," she said, holding it closed in front of her. Covered, she
felt less vulnerable, but being engulfed in his scent was hardly going to calm
her revving system. Wes,
Fred and Gunn skidded to a halt at the mouth of the alley. "Oh, thank
God," Fred said. They trouped in to stand next to Angel. "What
happened?" she asked. "Nothing.
I'm fine," Cordy replied. "Just a misunderstanding." "Oh,"
said Fred, glancing from Angel to Cordy. Her eyes widened. "OH," she
repeated, covering her mouth with her hand. There
was a moment of awkward silence. Understanding
dawned on Gunn's face. "Oops," he muttered. He looked pointedly toward
Fred and Wes. "Hey. I'm, uh, thinking maybe we should get out of here. Get
some, uh...." He glanced uncomfortably at Angel and Cordy. "Get some
Chinese food or something. I know a cheap all-night place." Wes's
gaze traveled from Angel and Cordy to Fred, who was tugging on his hand. The
clue train finally pulled into the station. His eyes widened. "Right.
Excellent idea," he said, letting Fred drag him along behind a rapidly
disappearing Gunn. "We'll, um, see you later?" he called over his
shoulder. "Sure,"
Angel replied. For a moment, the only sound was the muted bass coming from the
club and the whisper of Cordy's breathing, gradually slowing. ***
Cordy
leaned her head against the headrest, letting the wind lash against her face.
The air was cool, even with the coat on, but she didn't mind, because the brisk
flow kept her mind off of her still-throbbing body. "So,"
Angel st "Angel.”
She looked at him. "It's okay. Really." The
light changed and Angel hit the gas. Cordy
sighed. Could this be any more uncomfortable? "Look, it's not my preferred
method of birth control. But if it had to happen, I'm glad it went down like it
did. I mean, it's not like I even knew the guy." Angel's
head whipped around, all traces of goofiness gone. "I can’t believe,
after everything you’ve been through, that you’d pick up a guy and--
And—“ He wiggled his fingers on the steering wheel. “First
off,” she said, “who I boff is none of your business.” “And
second?” His voice was low, menacing. She
fiddled with the buttons on his coat, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.
“Actually, there is no second.” Angel
pulled the car into her lot and turned off the ignition. “Cordy.” "What?"
When she turned to look at him, his night-dark eyes were full of emotion. He
reached out and touched her face gently. He stared at her, seemingly unaware
that the seconds were becoming minutes. "Angel,
you're freaking me out.” She pulled back, trying to slow her rapidly
accelerating he Dammit,
he couldn't do this to her. He
smiled, just a faint twist of his lips. "Come on. I'll walk you up." She
climbed out of the car and they walked to the elevator. Before she could get the
keys out, the door opened. "Thanks,
Dennis," she said, gratefully. She walked through to the living room. Angel
stood in the doorway like a hulking shadow. "Well,
come on in," she said, hoping she sounded like her normal, friendly,
every-day self, and not the half-buzzed, raging-hormones version she felt like.
"It's not like you need an invitation." Cordy
took off his coat and laid it back of the couch. Then she walked to the kitchen
for a glass of water. "You want anything?" she asked. Angel
cleared his throat. "Uh, no. Thanks." The
water went down smooth and easy, soothing her alcohol-abraded throat. She set
the glass gingerly on the counter and returned to the living room. Angel
was still standing, half in and half out of the room, as if he couldn't decide
whether to stay or go. "I'm
going to be up for a while if you--" "Cordy,
you shouldn't pick up guys you don't--" Their
words collided like trains on the same track. Cordy
slumped into the nearest chair. "Didn’t I just say that was none of your
business?” "It
is if it's gonna get you killed," Angel said, finally coming the rest of
the way into the room. Cordy
snorted. "God, melodramatic much? And it's not like I do it every
week." She waved her hand. "Not even like I do it every year." Angel's
forehead wrinkled. "Still, Cordy." He moved over so that he stood in
front of her. "Maybe you should look for a new way to spend your time
off." "Oh,
right. Easy for you to say. You're a eunuch." Well, she thought, that came
out harsher than she'd intended. Before
she could apologize, Angel squatted in front of her, his face fierce.
"That's the second time you've called me that," his voice deep, rough.
"You think I'm blind, Cordelia? Incapable of desire?" Cordy
blinked, a little frightened by the intensity of his response. "I'm sorry,
Angel," she whispered. "It's just...don't you ever get lonely?" |