New Epiphany story!
Jun. 3rd, 2002 09:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thebratqueenOkay gang, no false alarms this time: here's the latest for Epiphany.
Complications
By: The Brat Queen
Disclaimer: Not mine. All Joss Whedon's, Mutant Enemy's, 20th Century Fox's and all that sort of thing. 'tis but a non-profit, amateur effort, and y'all would need to get in line to sue me anyway.
Spoilers: Up to Epiphany, after which Joss and I go separate ways.
Rated: PG
Summary: Cordy's got things on her mind. (Part of the Epiphany series, takes place after "The Past")
Dedicated to: Neige, for a rocking collage for my Live Journal.
***
Cordelia stared down at her feet. She wiggled her toes. Steel, by Revlon, wiggled back at her, flashing gray/silver in the light from her window. It had taken her 20 minutes to put on and she hadn't been sure the color would work, but the end result was worth it.
She checked the clock.
A basket of croissants and jam floated its way over to her. She smiled at the air. "No thanks, Dennis, I'm not hungry."
The basket placed itself on her bureau. She stared at it. Then picked up her phone and dialed.
"Hello, you've reached Wesley Wyndam-Pryce - "
Cordy's eyebrows quirked. When had they changed the answering machine message? And why was it only Wes's name? You didn't need to be vision girl to know this was going to cause a *huge* blowup in Sunnydale one of these days. She wondered if it was Wes or Angel who liked living dangerously.
"- I'm unable to come to the phone at the moment, but if you leave a message at the sound of the tone, I'll return your call as soon as possible."
*Beep*.
"Hey, Wes," Cordy said, trying her best to smile into the recording. "Sorry to bug you. I know it's our extra-special day off and everything but - " But what? She should have rehearsed this. "But if you and Angel aren't, you know, doing anything - um - and if you *are* don't stop and pick up the phone because I don't want to know and wow am I in a bad mental place right now - "
"Hello, Cordelia," Wes's voice came over the line. She heard him turn off the answering machine.
"Hey, Wes," she said again. "Am I interrupting anything?"
"I thought you said you didn't want to know," Wes replied.
"Not if you're - oh *ew*," she pressed a hand to her eyes and tried to block out the ideas that were coming to her. "This is *so* gross. Haven't you ever heard of good employer/employee relationships? You shouldn't tell me this stuff. I could sue."
"Entirely possible," Wes admitted, "if not for the fact that you brought it up. I've proof right here on my answerphone. Very kind of you to record that, by the way."
"Oh shut *up*," she told him.
"And is *that* what you call good employer/employee relations?" Wesley asked. "Hmm - I may have to remember this encounter come your annual review. Here, wait a moment, I'll turn the machine back on -"
"Is Angel there?" she asked. "He *can't* be there. You've got way too much free time for a guy who should be sleeping in with his hunky, dead boyfriend."
"Actually he's in the basement," Wes said. "Shall I get him?"
"Nah," she replied. "Actually - um - I was hoping to grab you."
"Is something wrong?" Wes asked.
"No," she said. She could feel Dennis looking at her. "I mean - sorta. Are you and Angel being all couple-y today? Because I need a favor."
"What kind?"
She thought about it. "The mobile kind? Like a car? I've got a million errands I need to run today and I was hoping - "
"I'm sure Angel wouldn't mind if you borrowed his," Wesley said. "Or did you want me to ask him for you?"
"Actually I was hoping you'd *drive* me for me," Cordy said. "I - um - need a big, strong guy to help me with some of this stuff, and since your boyfriend's got this stupid habit of turning into dust whenever the sun's out - "
"I was naturally your *second* choice," Wesley finished. "Oh *thank* you, Cordy, I'm highly flattered."
"Hey if you think you're too weak for the job - "
"Oh be quiet," Wes said, good-naturedly. "In point of fact I've a few errands I need to do myself. If you don't mind keeping me company, that is?"
"I'll try to stave off the boredom," Cordy said.
"My errands are *not* boring!"
"*How* many magic shops are we hitting?"
"You don't find my supplies dull when you're in the grips of a vision headache," Wesley countered.
"Um, yeah," she said, looking back down at her toes. "So when can you pick me up?"
"I was just about to leave?"
"Perfect."
***
"So what do you think?" Cordy held up a shirt in front of her. "Pink or blue?"
"It's definitely pink," Wesley said, leaning against a display of scarves. "No question about it."
Cordy stuck her tongue out at him. "I *meant* should I *buy* pink or blue?"
"Ah," Wes said. He frowned. "The blue, I think. It compliments your skin tones."
"Thank you," she said. She returned the shirt to the rack and picked up the blue version right next to it. "Here you go."
Wesley took the shirt as she handed it to him. "I'm glad I could be here to assist you in the lifting of these heavy garments."
She batted her eyelashes at him. "Me too. Now let's hit the makeup counter."
"Oh good," Wes said. "I'm running low on rouge."
"What did I say about the bad mental images?"
Wesley grinned at her.
They walked through the early afternoon crowd of shoppers. Cordy looked around, always alert to the chance that they might pass by someone famous and maybe even cute. Although if that was the case she wasn't sure she wanted to meet them by the makeup counter. Being gay was apparently working out for Wes and, to all rumors, Willow but she felt pretty firm on the heterosexual side.
"What do you need?" Wesley asked her.
"What?" she blinked. "Oh - um - the usual. Lipstick, eye shadow, moisturizer, something to get the *gunk* out of my skin that I get whenever I'm at the hotel for too long. I swear a tornado could sweep through that place and it would *still* be dusty. How the heck do you live with it?"
"I use a remarkable invention," Wes replied. "It's called soap."
"You would," she said. "But don't come crying to me in ten years when your skin's all dried out and wrinkled." She paused, glancing at him. "Actually - "
"Yes, can we get *on* with it, Cordy?" he said, rolling his eyes.
She smirked and started looking at the lipstick samples. Various shades of red looked back at her, almost pulsating under the fluorescent lights. She debated moving on to the eye shadow.
"Truth be told it's Angel who fusses the most," Wesley said. "He claims it's due to his vampire senses."
"Yeah, he *says* that," Cordy picked up a bottle of Ultima Body Moisturizer. "I think he's anal-retentive and just doesn't want to admit it."
Wes cleared his throat. "Yes, well...."
"Never tell me," she replied.
Wesley smiled. "I think I can agree to that arrangement."
"I *so* need more female friends," she said. Content with the moisturizer, she passed it over to Wes and moved back to the makeup. "Female friends wouldn't have this kind of conversation with me."
"A conversation about my personal life?" Wesley asked. "No, I suppose your *female* friends wouldn't."
She grinned at him. "Ha ha. Although newsflash - people don't have to be *sleeping* with you to *talk* about you. Plenty of people *talk* about you, Wesley."
Wes frowned. "They do? What do they say?"
"'Who's that dweeb behind you?' Usually," she said. She left Wes sputtering as she pulled out her credit card and paid for her purchases. When she turned around again Wes had vanished, but she found him once more by the jewelry counter.
"Angel needs a new watch," Wes explained as he signed his own credit card slip. "I keep attempting to explain that smashing one's way through life tends to be rough on one's accessories but he's yet to heed me."
"Have you tried it with things that sound more like one-syllable words?" Cordy asked. "Because if Angel knows what half of those words mean I'll get the office ready for the next Apocalypse."
Wes chuckled and took his bag from the cashier. They made their way to the next store, navigating around the almost-lunchtime crowds. Cordy wondered what it was like for people to go shopping without wondering where you'd place the bazooka if the need to save the world again ever came up.
"Is Angel big on malls?" she asked. "Or did he give those up after the one-day-only sale on Judges?"
"He's not much for anywhere which contains a large number of people," Wes replied. He stopped to look at a sunglass display. "It makes him cranky."
"I guess I'd be cranky too if I was surrounded by a look but don't touch food court," she said. "Especially if I hadn't eaten anything in a - well I guess for Angel it's been a year now but still, a year."
"He eats," Wesley protested. He abandoned his search for sunglasses and began walking again. "Granted the blood isn't human - "
"I know, I know," she waved this off, rubbing her forehead and looking around for anyone who sold bottled water. "Still - that boy needs a normal life."
Wesley was overcome by a coughing fit.
Cordy looked at him strangely. "Um - Wes?"
"Nothing - nothing," Wesley said. He shook his head and she realized that he was *laughing*. "It's just that Angel and Buffy... that's normally the sort of thing he says to *her*."
"Ahh," Cordy said, understanding dawning.
"Although I do agree," Wes added. "With your assessment anyway."
Cordy shrugged it off. "Well duh? I mean I know the whole vampire with a soul thing pretty much crosses out 'normal' on his census form, but he can't spend his whole immortality staring at the walls and brooding."
"Be fair," Wesley pointed out, "he *does* stop from time to time to attack demons or purchase new supplies of hair gel."
"True," Cordy agreed. "But still - need a life much?"
"I'm sure it was difficult for him," Wes said. "After he left Buffy - "
"Buffy Schmuffy," Cordy said. "Sure the whole thing in - where are you going?"
Wes stopped and pointed towards The Discovery Store. "Er - in here?"
Cordy looked inside then looked back at him in disbelief.
"There's some documentaries I wanted to buy on DVD," Wes explained. "And, well, this electronic device which identifies birdsong."
Cordy folded her arms and stared at him.
"I was hoping to modify it to identify the sounds of demons who have not yet evolved to the point of having translatable language," Wes added. "My theory was -"
"Already too much information," she said. She walked past him and into the store. "*God* you're a geek. What did I ever see in you?"
"My debonair charm?" Wes suggested.
"Not my fault American girls are programmed to be suckers for an accent," Cordy said.
"In that case why didn't you ever date Mr. Giles?" Wes asked.
"*Ew!*" Cordy said. "Oh ew."
Wes smirked. "Revenge for all the times I've been told 'Oh *you're* the chap who kisses like a fish.'"
"Don't blame me for that," she told him. "I said you kissed like a toad."
"Which is ever so much better," Wes said. He began to look through the DVD section.
"*Anyway*," Cordy said, getting back on her earlier thought, "my point is Angel's pretty much been no-life-having guy all the time. Yeah, sure, seriously obvious when he first got to LA - I mean you should have seen him before you got here, Wes. It was all me and Doyle could do to get him out on anything that wasn't a case."
"Did it work?" Wes asked.
"Sometimes," she said. "But even then he was a big, black, sucking hole of anti-fun. Angel's never been what you'd call large with the social life."
"He's doing much better these days," Wes said. He picked out one DVD and began looking for another.
"I know," Cordy said. "Which brings me to my other point. Kinda. Thing is - Angel's *never* been large with the social life. Even back in Sunnydale. Every time somebody saw him it was always 'Where's Buffy?' Heck - even when he lost the soul."
"I know," Wes said, not looking back at her.
She reached out to swat him on the arm. "Be quiet and listen to what I'm saying. Yeah - Angel and Buffy had the big forever love. We all know that. But Angel and Buffy *also* had the big *dysfunctional* forever love. Everytime they saw each other it was always 'Forsooth! You are my life! My air! My - '"
"'Forsooth'?" Wes asked.
"You know what I mean," she said, swatting him again. "Big, dramatic declarations - "
"Which one of them was more inclined to say 'forsooth', do you think?"
She rolled her eyes. "Would you *shut up*? I'm trying to say something nice here."
Wesley reached out and put a hand to her forehead as though checking for a fever.
"Excuse me, miss?" Cordy said, turning to stop a saleswoman who was walking by. "Did you know that this guy kisses like a toad?"
"Only because British accents turn her into a raving nymphomaniac," Wesley said, giving Cordy a leer.
The saleswoman scurried off. Cordy made a face at Wes. "Put *that* away before you hurt yourself."
Wes chuckled and moved on to the gadget section. "You were saying?"
She followed him. "I was *saying* that Angel's never had much of a life. Yeah, I know, he's dead and all. But the thing is before you came to town all he had was that great habit of brooding, then before that it was Sunnydale and all things Buffy all the time, and before *that* it was creepy hotels and God knows what else. Never anything - you know - *normal*. Healthy. *Good*."
Wesley nodded. "I think I get your meaning."
"But now he's got you," Cordy said. "And he's going out, doing stuff - okay he's not always *great* at it and can I just say I'm *still* annoyed we're never going to get to go back to Valentino's again but point is that Angel the dork who can't figure out how to order a coffee with no cream in a restaurant is still Angel the guy who's actually doing something with himself. And all that started up because of you."
Wes gave her a little smile. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," she said. "But the thing is - he could still use more."
"I agree," Wes said. He pulled a box off of a shelf and examined it. "We have been working on it. Or I have. I think our weekly evenings out have been an excellent start, don't you?"
"It's a *start*, yeah," she said. She wandered over to another display and ran her fingers through the water of a fountain. The price tag caught her eye. "Seventy bucks for a twenty dollar fountain with two tea candles on it?"
"Perhaps it's the cost of labor?" Wesley suggested.
"We are *so* in the wrong business," she concluded.
***
"But I don't know *how* to play poker," Cordy shoved open her door and called out "Dennis! It's us, can you get the lights?"
The lights flickered on as Wesley came in behind her, his own hands filled with more bags than she was carrying. "I could teach you. Do you have a deck of cards?"
"Not here," she said. She dumped her bags down onto her couch and reached for the ones Wesley was holding. "Well - I used to but then I lost the five of clubs."
"Not a problem, then," Wes said, helping her make room on the coffee table for the rest of her purchases. "I've plenty at the hotel. Perhaps on a quiet afternoon I could teach you the basics. I'm sure you'll do brilliantly. Half of the skill of poker is lying."
"I'm a great liar," Cordy pointed out. "For example - you look gorgeous in that jacket."
Wes gave her a sour look. "Yes, yes. Be that as it may, I'm sure you can pick it up quickly. Then you won't be fighting blind if we institute a regular poker night."
"20/20 vision is definitely good," Cordy agreed, "even if this *is* a little high on the testosterone scale. Think we can alternate with a weekly trip to go see a girly film? Or shopping?"
"If it means alternating the role of being your pack animal I'm all for it," Wesley said.
"Oh stop complaining, the bags weren't *that* heavy," she said. She put her purse away then headed into the kitchen. "Want anything?'
"A glass of water?" Wes asked. "Then I should go. Angel's been by himself all day and that hardly ever bodes well."
Cordy pulled out two glasses and two bottles of water. "What? You think he went all broody?"
"No," Wes called back, "I think he got it into his head to try repairing some of the bathroom tiles. I'd like to return home before we no longer have plumbing. Speaking of which - "
"Help yourself," she told him. "Water'll be here when you get back."
"Won't be a moment," Wes replied.
Cordy poured the water into the glasses, then looked down the hall to make sure the bathroom door was closed. She ducked back into the kitchen, picked up her phone and checked her voice mail, frowning when she heard the stutter that meant a waiting message.
"Stupid jerks," she muttered. "Had my cell phone on *all day* and - "
She became quiet as she listened.
A few minutes later, Wesley joined her. "Cordy?"
She wiped at her eyes and put on her best smile. "Hey. I've got your water. All wet and everything."
Wes stepped forward, looking at her with concern. "What's wrong? Were you - I don't mean to intrude, but - "
"Nothing," she said, holding out the glass of water and letting it stay between them until he took it. "Really. I was just checking my messages and I guess my eyes got a little dry and - "
"Cordelia," Wes said, putting his water down, "you are a *horrible* liar."
"Guess I won't be very good at poker, huh?" she said. She put her empty bottle into her recycle bin. "It's no big thing. I just - well - you know, once a year annual checkup time and with the headaches getting really bad and all - "
"How bad?" Wes asked, quietly.
"Almost constant?" she said. "Not *skull-cracking* or anything, but - "
"You should have told us," Wesley said.
"I just did," Cordy pointed out. "Anyway, I told my *doctor* and no offense but she's a little more qualified than you to judge these things and - "
"If it's something of a magical nature I can certainly research - "
" - and she did all these tests," Cordy continued, paying no attention to him, "and can I just say how glad I am we've got insurance now that you're in charge? Anyway, I got poked and prodded and scanned and magnetized and whatever the heck else you do - "
"Cordelia, you should have *told* -"
"And they say I'm *fine*," she finished, wiping at her eyes again. She looked back at him. "Totally, absolutely...." she swallowed, then kept going. "Fine. No illness. Or cancer. Or.... anything."
Wesley took that in, frowning slightly. "That's good news, is it not?"
Cordy rubbed at a scratch on her kitchen counter. "They didn't tell me they were looking for that."
Wes's expression softened. "Oh."
"I mean not like *I* went to medical school," she protested. "How am I supposed to know what they're looking for? She just said she wanted to check things. Nobody said - nobody said *cancer*."
"Come here," Wesley said. He engulfed her into a hug. "That must feel absolutely terrifying."
"Well *yeah*," she replied. She sniffled and felt Wes's coat get wet under her cheek. "Stupid doctors."
"Indeed."
"They should *tell* people."
Wes stroked her hair. "I agree."
She slipped her arms around him, wondering when he'd gotten so strong. "You know somebody should infect their office with demons and not tell *them* and see how *they* like it."
"I could always send Angel over to harass them," Wesley said. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind."
Cordy smiled at the thought of Angel going into game face at a doctor's office. "Maybe later."
"Let me know," Wes replied. He hugged her tighter. "Does your head still hurt?"
"Yeah," she admitted. "A little."
Wes thought about that. "How long has this been going on?"
"A month?" she said. "More? I don't know."
"Perhaps it came on gradually then?" Wes suggested. "Rather than in response to any particular vision?"
"Maybe," she said.
"Well we can't have that," Wesley said. He kissed the top of her head. "Our most valuable employee must be at her prime fighting form. Let's see what we can do to remedy the situation, yes?"
"Not like I was *liking* the headaches," she said.
Wes chuckled. "I didn't say you did."
She gave him a last squeeze and then stepped back, wiping her eyes again. "Great, now my head hurts more *and* I'm a mess."
Wes smiled at her affectionately. "You always were."
"Oh shut up," she told him. She went over to the sink and wetted a paper towel. Without asking, Wesley took it from her and gently wiped at her face. "So - um - if the insurance company asks about the big tests and all - "
"I'll tell them you're worth every penny," Wes promised. He threw the towel away and brushed her hair from her eyes.
"Of course," she said, striking a pose against the countertop. "I'm Cordelia."
"Accept no substitutes," Wesley agreed. He held his arm out to her.
She looked at it. "What?"
"It's late, you've had a horrible day - I thought I might buy you dinner," he said. "Somewhere nice? Perhaps even expensive?"
She thought about it. "Can I wear my new dress?"
Wes smiled. "I insist upon it."
"Can you change into something less dorky?"
"I did mention that I was paying, yes?"
"You look great," she assured him. "Give me five to look fabulous?"
"Take all the time you need," Wes said. "I'll tell Angel that I'll be late."
"Perfect," she told him. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks."
"Anytime," he told her.
Fin.
Complications
By: The Brat Queen
Disclaimer: Not mine. All Joss Whedon's, Mutant Enemy's, 20th Century Fox's and all that sort of thing. 'tis but a non-profit, amateur effort, and y'all would need to get in line to sue me anyway.
Spoilers: Up to Epiphany, after which Joss and I go separate ways.
Rated: PG
Summary: Cordy's got things on her mind. (Part of the Epiphany series, takes place after "The Past")
Dedicated to: Neige, for a rocking collage for my Live Journal.
***
Cordelia stared down at her feet. She wiggled her toes. Steel, by Revlon, wiggled back at her, flashing gray/silver in the light from her window. It had taken her 20 minutes to put on and she hadn't been sure the color would work, but the end result was worth it.
She checked the clock.
A basket of croissants and jam floated its way over to her. She smiled at the air. "No thanks, Dennis, I'm not hungry."
The basket placed itself on her bureau. She stared at it. Then picked up her phone and dialed.
"Hello, you've reached Wesley Wyndam-Pryce - "
Cordy's eyebrows quirked. When had they changed the answering machine message? And why was it only Wes's name? You didn't need to be vision girl to know this was going to cause a *huge* blowup in Sunnydale one of these days. She wondered if it was Wes or Angel who liked living dangerously.
"- I'm unable to come to the phone at the moment, but if you leave a message at the sound of the tone, I'll return your call as soon as possible."
*Beep*.
"Hey, Wes," Cordy said, trying her best to smile into the recording. "Sorry to bug you. I know it's our extra-special day off and everything but - " But what? She should have rehearsed this. "But if you and Angel aren't, you know, doing anything - um - and if you *are* don't stop and pick up the phone because I don't want to know and wow am I in a bad mental place right now - "
"Hello, Cordelia," Wes's voice came over the line. She heard him turn off the answering machine.
"Hey, Wes," she said again. "Am I interrupting anything?"
"I thought you said you didn't want to know," Wes replied.
"Not if you're - oh *ew*," she pressed a hand to her eyes and tried to block out the ideas that were coming to her. "This is *so* gross. Haven't you ever heard of good employer/employee relationships? You shouldn't tell me this stuff. I could sue."
"Entirely possible," Wes admitted, "if not for the fact that you brought it up. I've proof right here on my answerphone. Very kind of you to record that, by the way."
"Oh shut *up*," she told him.
"And is *that* what you call good employer/employee relations?" Wesley asked. "Hmm - I may have to remember this encounter come your annual review. Here, wait a moment, I'll turn the machine back on -"
"Is Angel there?" she asked. "He *can't* be there. You've got way too much free time for a guy who should be sleeping in with his hunky, dead boyfriend."
"Actually he's in the basement," Wes said. "Shall I get him?"
"Nah," she replied. "Actually - um - I was hoping to grab you."
"Is something wrong?" Wes asked.
"No," she said. She could feel Dennis looking at her. "I mean - sorta. Are you and Angel being all couple-y today? Because I need a favor."
"What kind?"
She thought about it. "The mobile kind? Like a car? I've got a million errands I need to run today and I was hoping - "
"I'm sure Angel wouldn't mind if you borrowed his," Wesley said. "Or did you want me to ask him for you?"
"Actually I was hoping you'd *drive* me for me," Cordy said. "I - um - need a big, strong guy to help me with some of this stuff, and since your boyfriend's got this stupid habit of turning into dust whenever the sun's out - "
"I was naturally your *second* choice," Wesley finished. "Oh *thank* you, Cordy, I'm highly flattered."
"Hey if you think you're too weak for the job - "
"Oh be quiet," Wes said, good-naturedly. "In point of fact I've a few errands I need to do myself. If you don't mind keeping me company, that is?"
"I'll try to stave off the boredom," Cordy said.
"My errands are *not* boring!"
"*How* many magic shops are we hitting?"
"You don't find my supplies dull when you're in the grips of a vision headache," Wesley countered.
"Um, yeah," she said, looking back down at her toes. "So when can you pick me up?"
"I was just about to leave?"
"Perfect."
***
"So what do you think?" Cordy held up a shirt in front of her. "Pink or blue?"
"It's definitely pink," Wesley said, leaning against a display of scarves. "No question about it."
Cordy stuck her tongue out at him. "I *meant* should I *buy* pink or blue?"
"Ah," Wes said. He frowned. "The blue, I think. It compliments your skin tones."
"Thank you," she said. She returned the shirt to the rack and picked up the blue version right next to it. "Here you go."
Wesley took the shirt as she handed it to him. "I'm glad I could be here to assist you in the lifting of these heavy garments."
She batted her eyelashes at him. "Me too. Now let's hit the makeup counter."
"Oh good," Wes said. "I'm running low on rouge."
"What did I say about the bad mental images?"
Wesley grinned at her.
They walked through the early afternoon crowd of shoppers. Cordy looked around, always alert to the chance that they might pass by someone famous and maybe even cute. Although if that was the case she wasn't sure she wanted to meet them by the makeup counter. Being gay was apparently working out for Wes and, to all rumors, Willow but she felt pretty firm on the heterosexual side.
"What do you need?" Wesley asked her.
"What?" she blinked. "Oh - um - the usual. Lipstick, eye shadow, moisturizer, something to get the *gunk* out of my skin that I get whenever I'm at the hotel for too long. I swear a tornado could sweep through that place and it would *still* be dusty. How the heck do you live with it?"
"I use a remarkable invention," Wes replied. "It's called soap."
"You would," she said. "But don't come crying to me in ten years when your skin's all dried out and wrinkled." She paused, glancing at him. "Actually - "
"Yes, can we get *on* with it, Cordy?" he said, rolling his eyes.
She smirked and started looking at the lipstick samples. Various shades of red looked back at her, almost pulsating under the fluorescent lights. She debated moving on to the eye shadow.
"Truth be told it's Angel who fusses the most," Wesley said. "He claims it's due to his vampire senses."
"Yeah, he *says* that," Cordy picked up a bottle of Ultima Body Moisturizer. "I think he's anal-retentive and just doesn't want to admit it."
Wes cleared his throat. "Yes, well...."
"Never tell me," she replied.
Wesley smiled. "I think I can agree to that arrangement."
"I *so* need more female friends," she said. Content with the moisturizer, she passed it over to Wes and moved back to the makeup. "Female friends wouldn't have this kind of conversation with me."
"A conversation about my personal life?" Wesley asked. "No, I suppose your *female* friends wouldn't."
She grinned at him. "Ha ha. Although newsflash - people don't have to be *sleeping* with you to *talk* about you. Plenty of people *talk* about you, Wesley."
Wes frowned. "They do? What do they say?"
"'Who's that dweeb behind you?' Usually," she said. She left Wes sputtering as she pulled out her credit card and paid for her purchases. When she turned around again Wes had vanished, but she found him once more by the jewelry counter.
"Angel needs a new watch," Wes explained as he signed his own credit card slip. "I keep attempting to explain that smashing one's way through life tends to be rough on one's accessories but he's yet to heed me."
"Have you tried it with things that sound more like one-syllable words?" Cordy asked. "Because if Angel knows what half of those words mean I'll get the office ready for the next Apocalypse."
Wes chuckled and took his bag from the cashier. They made their way to the next store, navigating around the almost-lunchtime crowds. Cordy wondered what it was like for people to go shopping without wondering where you'd place the bazooka if the need to save the world again ever came up.
"Is Angel big on malls?" she asked. "Or did he give those up after the one-day-only sale on Judges?"
"He's not much for anywhere which contains a large number of people," Wes replied. He stopped to look at a sunglass display. "It makes him cranky."
"I guess I'd be cranky too if I was surrounded by a look but don't touch food court," she said. "Especially if I hadn't eaten anything in a - well I guess for Angel it's been a year now but still, a year."
"He eats," Wesley protested. He abandoned his search for sunglasses and began walking again. "Granted the blood isn't human - "
"I know, I know," she waved this off, rubbing her forehead and looking around for anyone who sold bottled water. "Still - that boy needs a normal life."
Wesley was overcome by a coughing fit.
Cordy looked at him strangely. "Um - Wes?"
"Nothing - nothing," Wesley said. He shook his head and she realized that he was *laughing*. "It's just that Angel and Buffy... that's normally the sort of thing he says to *her*."
"Ahh," Cordy said, understanding dawning.
"Although I do agree," Wes added. "With your assessment anyway."
Cordy shrugged it off. "Well duh? I mean I know the whole vampire with a soul thing pretty much crosses out 'normal' on his census form, but he can't spend his whole immortality staring at the walls and brooding."
"Be fair," Wesley pointed out, "he *does* stop from time to time to attack demons or purchase new supplies of hair gel."
"True," Cordy agreed. "But still - need a life much?"
"I'm sure it was difficult for him," Wes said. "After he left Buffy - "
"Buffy Schmuffy," Cordy said. "Sure the whole thing in - where are you going?"
Wes stopped and pointed towards The Discovery Store. "Er - in here?"
Cordy looked inside then looked back at him in disbelief.
"There's some documentaries I wanted to buy on DVD," Wes explained. "And, well, this electronic device which identifies birdsong."
Cordy folded her arms and stared at him.
"I was hoping to modify it to identify the sounds of demons who have not yet evolved to the point of having translatable language," Wes added. "My theory was -"
"Already too much information," she said. She walked past him and into the store. "*God* you're a geek. What did I ever see in you?"
"My debonair charm?" Wes suggested.
"Not my fault American girls are programmed to be suckers for an accent," Cordy said.
"In that case why didn't you ever date Mr. Giles?" Wes asked.
"*Ew!*" Cordy said. "Oh ew."
Wes smirked. "Revenge for all the times I've been told 'Oh *you're* the chap who kisses like a fish.'"
"Don't blame me for that," she told him. "I said you kissed like a toad."
"Which is ever so much better," Wes said. He began to look through the DVD section.
"*Anyway*," Cordy said, getting back on her earlier thought, "my point is Angel's pretty much been no-life-having guy all the time. Yeah, sure, seriously obvious when he first got to LA - I mean you should have seen him before you got here, Wes. It was all me and Doyle could do to get him out on anything that wasn't a case."
"Did it work?" Wes asked.
"Sometimes," she said. "But even then he was a big, black, sucking hole of anti-fun. Angel's never been what you'd call large with the social life."
"He's doing much better these days," Wes said. He picked out one DVD and began looking for another.
"I know," Cordy said. "Which brings me to my other point. Kinda. Thing is - Angel's *never* been large with the social life. Even back in Sunnydale. Every time somebody saw him it was always 'Where's Buffy?' Heck - even when he lost the soul."
"I know," Wes said, not looking back at her.
She reached out to swat him on the arm. "Be quiet and listen to what I'm saying. Yeah - Angel and Buffy had the big forever love. We all know that. But Angel and Buffy *also* had the big *dysfunctional* forever love. Everytime they saw each other it was always 'Forsooth! You are my life! My air! My - '"
"'Forsooth'?" Wes asked.
"You know what I mean," she said, swatting him again. "Big, dramatic declarations - "
"Which one of them was more inclined to say 'forsooth', do you think?"
She rolled her eyes. "Would you *shut up*? I'm trying to say something nice here."
Wesley reached out and put a hand to her forehead as though checking for a fever.
"Excuse me, miss?" Cordy said, turning to stop a saleswoman who was walking by. "Did you know that this guy kisses like a toad?"
"Only because British accents turn her into a raving nymphomaniac," Wesley said, giving Cordy a leer.
The saleswoman scurried off. Cordy made a face at Wes. "Put *that* away before you hurt yourself."
Wes chuckled and moved on to the gadget section. "You were saying?"
She followed him. "I was *saying* that Angel's never had much of a life. Yeah, I know, he's dead and all. But the thing is before you came to town all he had was that great habit of brooding, then before that it was Sunnydale and all things Buffy all the time, and before *that* it was creepy hotels and God knows what else. Never anything - you know - *normal*. Healthy. *Good*."
Wesley nodded. "I think I get your meaning."
"But now he's got you," Cordy said. "And he's going out, doing stuff - okay he's not always *great* at it and can I just say I'm *still* annoyed we're never going to get to go back to Valentino's again but point is that Angel the dork who can't figure out how to order a coffee with no cream in a restaurant is still Angel the guy who's actually doing something with himself. And all that started up because of you."
Wes gave her a little smile. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," she said. "But the thing is - he could still use more."
"I agree," Wes said. He pulled a box off of a shelf and examined it. "We have been working on it. Or I have. I think our weekly evenings out have been an excellent start, don't you?"
"It's a *start*, yeah," she said. She wandered over to another display and ran her fingers through the water of a fountain. The price tag caught her eye. "Seventy bucks for a twenty dollar fountain with two tea candles on it?"
"Perhaps it's the cost of labor?" Wesley suggested.
"We are *so* in the wrong business," she concluded.
***
"But I don't know *how* to play poker," Cordy shoved open her door and called out "Dennis! It's us, can you get the lights?"
The lights flickered on as Wesley came in behind her, his own hands filled with more bags than she was carrying. "I could teach you. Do you have a deck of cards?"
"Not here," she said. She dumped her bags down onto her couch and reached for the ones Wesley was holding. "Well - I used to but then I lost the five of clubs."
"Not a problem, then," Wes said, helping her make room on the coffee table for the rest of her purchases. "I've plenty at the hotel. Perhaps on a quiet afternoon I could teach you the basics. I'm sure you'll do brilliantly. Half of the skill of poker is lying."
"I'm a great liar," Cordy pointed out. "For example - you look gorgeous in that jacket."
Wes gave her a sour look. "Yes, yes. Be that as it may, I'm sure you can pick it up quickly. Then you won't be fighting blind if we institute a regular poker night."
"20/20 vision is definitely good," Cordy agreed, "even if this *is* a little high on the testosterone scale. Think we can alternate with a weekly trip to go see a girly film? Or shopping?"
"If it means alternating the role of being your pack animal I'm all for it," Wesley said.
"Oh stop complaining, the bags weren't *that* heavy," she said. She put her purse away then headed into the kitchen. "Want anything?'
"A glass of water?" Wes asked. "Then I should go. Angel's been by himself all day and that hardly ever bodes well."
Cordy pulled out two glasses and two bottles of water. "What? You think he went all broody?"
"No," Wes called back, "I think he got it into his head to try repairing some of the bathroom tiles. I'd like to return home before we no longer have plumbing. Speaking of which - "
"Help yourself," she told him. "Water'll be here when you get back."
"Won't be a moment," Wes replied.
Cordy poured the water into the glasses, then looked down the hall to make sure the bathroom door was closed. She ducked back into the kitchen, picked up her phone and checked her voice mail, frowning when she heard the stutter that meant a waiting message.
"Stupid jerks," she muttered. "Had my cell phone on *all day* and - "
She became quiet as she listened.
A few minutes later, Wesley joined her. "Cordy?"
She wiped at her eyes and put on her best smile. "Hey. I've got your water. All wet and everything."
Wes stepped forward, looking at her with concern. "What's wrong? Were you - I don't mean to intrude, but - "
"Nothing," she said, holding out the glass of water and letting it stay between them until he took it. "Really. I was just checking my messages and I guess my eyes got a little dry and - "
"Cordelia," Wes said, putting his water down, "you are a *horrible* liar."
"Guess I won't be very good at poker, huh?" she said. She put her empty bottle into her recycle bin. "It's no big thing. I just - well - you know, once a year annual checkup time and with the headaches getting really bad and all - "
"How bad?" Wes asked, quietly.
"Almost constant?" she said. "Not *skull-cracking* or anything, but - "
"You should have told us," Wesley said.
"I just did," Cordy pointed out. "Anyway, I told my *doctor* and no offense but she's a little more qualified than you to judge these things and - "
"If it's something of a magical nature I can certainly research - "
" - and she did all these tests," Cordy continued, paying no attention to him, "and can I just say how glad I am we've got insurance now that you're in charge? Anyway, I got poked and prodded and scanned and magnetized and whatever the heck else you do - "
"Cordelia, you should have *told* -"
"And they say I'm *fine*," she finished, wiping at her eyes again. She looked back at him. "Totally, absolutely...." she swallowed, then kept going. "Fine. No illness. Or cancer. Or.... anything."
Wesley took that in, frowning slightly. "That's good news, is it not?"
Cordy rubbed at a scratch on her kitchen counter. "They didn't tell me they were looking for that."
Wes's expression softened. "Oh."
"I mean not like *I* went to medical school," she protested. "How am I supposed to know what they're looking for? She just said she wanted to check things. Nobody said - nobody said *cancer*."
"Come here," Wesley said. He engulfed her into a hug. "That must feel absolutely terrifying."
"Well *yeah*," she replied. She sniffled and felt Wes's coat get wet under her cheek. "Stupid doctors."
"Indeed."
"They should *tell* people."
Wes stroked her hair. "I agree."
She slipped her arms around him, wondering when he'd gotten so strong. "You know somebody should infect their office with demons and not tell *them* and see how *they* like it."
"I could always send Angel over to harass them," Wesley said. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind."
Cordy smiled at the thought of Angel going into game face at a doctor's office. "Maybe later."
"Let me know," Wes replied. He hugged her tighter. "Does your head still hurt?"
"Yeah," she admitted. "A little."
Wes thought about that. "How long has this been going on?"
"A month?" she said. "More? I don't know."
"Perhaps it came on gradually then?" Wes suggested. "Rather than in response to any particular vision?"
"Maybe," she said.
"Well we can't have that," Wesley said. He kissed the top of her head. "Our most valuable employee must be at her prime fighting form. Let's see what we can do to remedy the situation, yes?"
"Not like I was *liking* the headaches," she said.
Wes chuckled. "I didn't say you did."
She gave him a last squeeze and then stepped back, wiping her eyes again. "Great, now my head hurts more *and* I'm a mess."
Wes smiled at her affectionately. "You always were."
"Oh shut up," she told him. She went over to the sink and wetted a paper towel. Without asking, Wesley took it from her and gently wiped at her face. "So - um - if the insurance company asks about the big tests and all - "
"I'll tell them you're worth every penny," Wes promised. He threw the towel away and brushed her hair from her eyes.
"Of course," she said, striking a pose against the countertop. "I'm Cordelia."
"Accept no substitutes," Wesley agreed. He held his arm out to her.
She looked at it. "What?"
"It's late, you've had a horrible day - I thought I might buy you dinner," he said. "Somewhere nice? Perhaps even expensive?"
She thought about it. "Can I wear my new dress?"
Wes smiled. "I insist upon it."
"Can you change into something less dorky?"
"I did mention that I was paying, yes?"
"You look great," she assured him. "Give me five to look fabulous?"
"Take all the time you need," Wes said. "I'll tell Angel that I'll be late."
"Perfect," she told him. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks."
"Anytime," he told her.
Fin.
