SCRIBES OF ANGEL
FanFic
________________________________
GIVE A DOG A BONE
by
Christie
Rating:
PG
Genre: A/C fluff
Summary: Cordelia strokes Angel's ego.
Spoilers: An insignificant one for TTLG.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon &
David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended; no profit made.
Distribution: List archives and those with my other stuff. Else, ask.
11/2/01
Note:
Just a small bit of fluffiness I wrote, inspired by Angel's constant insecure
comments about what Cordy thinks of him.
*
The
basement was dark and creepy as usual, and out of pure habit, Cordelia gripped
the railing tightly as she tip toed her way down the stairs. Once she reached
the bottom, she frowned. At first glance, the spacious room seemed to be empty.
But a sudden movement in the shadows toward the back of the room made her
pause.
"Angel?"
A soft
grunt in response, and Cordelia came forward, peering curiously at her boss as
he turned in a slow circle, his neck craned to see behind him. He looked like a
very large, very shirtless vampire chasing a very invisible tail.
"What
are you doing?"
Angel
looked up, frustrated. He straightened himself and put his hands on his hips,
looking imploringly at Cordelia. "I can't see myself!"
"What?"
"I
can't tell..." He looked behind himself again, beginning to turn in a slow
circle. "You don't think I'm fat, do you?"
Cordelia
cocked her head. "Again, what?" She let her gaze rove over his body,
appreciative of the nakedness from his waist up. "Angel, since when do you
- "
He
turned sharply, his dark eyes boring into her. "Are you avoiding the
question?"
Hands
on her hips, Cordelia met his stare head on. "No, I'm trying to figure out
when you turned into a woman."
"I'm
not - I'm just..." He sighed, running one hand self-consciously down his
front. "You've made comments."
"About
you being fat?" Cordelia searched the recesses of her mind to recall a
time when she had ever even entertained the notion. She came up empty.
"When? I would never say that to your face."
Angel
frowned, looking dejected. "So you do think I'm fat."
Eyes
widening in shock at his complete gravity, Cordelia brought a hand up to her
mouth and stifled a chuckle. "This conversation is surreal." She
shook her head. "No, I don't think you're fat."
His
eyes brightened. "You don't?"
"No.
Weird, yes. Fat, no."
A
moment of silence settled between them as Angel still seemed to inspect what he
could see of his body. Cordelia watched him with interest, narrowing her eyes
when his hands went up and gingerly patted the top of his head.
"What
about my hair? Is it okay?"
She
rolled her eyes. "Yes, it's fine."
"Cause
it sticks up."
"Well,
you use gel."
Angel
frowned, fiddling with several strands in front. "But its supposed to
be...should I slick it back?" He pushed his palm across the top of his
head.
Cordelia
reached for his arm and pulled it down off his head. "God, no."
"So
how should I do it?"
"The
way it is is fine, Angel. I think you should keep it how it is," she
assured him.
Angel
looked at her skeptically for a moment. "I just put gel on my hands then
go like this." He rubbed his hands together and brought them up to his
hair, mimicking the motions of gripping handfuls and pulling straight up.
"I
can tell," Cordelia nodded.
Angel
dropped his hands. "So you don't like it!"
Cordelia
huffed, exasperated. "Oh God! Paranoid much? Just cause I know how you fix
your hair doesn't mean I hate it."
"You
don't hate it," Angel breathed, sounding more than a little relieved. He
paused, his eyes narrowing. "But that's not saying you - "
Cordelia
threw her hands up. "I like it! God!"
"Don't
get so testy. What about these pants?"
"Do
you have a date or something?"
"A
date?" Angel looked up from his pants and raised his eyebrows. "No, I
just - I hate not being able to see myself in the mirror."
"Because
you suddenly got concerned about how you look." Cordelia was disbelieving.
Angel
shrugged, turning his attention back to his pants. "You started making
comments. And when I saw my hair in Pylea..." He busied himself with
brushing out invisible wrinkles and avoiding Cordelia's gaze.
"Oh
please, Angel," she breathed. "You know you look good. You couldn't
stop staring at yourself."
"Okay.
The hair's good and I'm not fat. The pants?"
"Look
great," Cordelia said honesty. They were khaki, and like nothing she'd
ever seen him wear before. "Not black so I like them. New?"
He
ignored her question, fiddling with the belt. "And I'm not fat."
Cordelia
sighed. "Not fat. What would you do anyways? Pick up some Diet
O-Pos?"
She
smiled at her own joke. Angel frowned, his forehead creasing in lines of worry.
"So
you think I need to pick up - "
Cordelia
felt her entire body tense in exasperation. "No! Jesus, it was a joke!
You're perfect! Great hair, perfect body, good face." She ran her fingers
through her hair, resisting the urge to pull it all out in frustration.
"Chiseled features. You could be a model!"
"Cordelia
- "
"You
are HOT!" she screamed at him. "Now leave me alone!" Turning on
her heel and completely forgetting about the training session she'd gone down
there for, Cordelia thundered up the steps, slamming the basement door behind
her.
*
Wesley
looked up from his paper, watched open-mouthed as Cordelia clattered through
the lobby and out the front door. He turned slowly as the basement door she'd
just slammed opened a crack, and Angel peeked his head out.
"She
leave?"
Wesley
put the paper down. "Yes. Quite angry I think. What did you say to
her?"
Angel
opened the basement door wider and stepped into the lobby, fastening the
remainder of the buttons on his shirt into their proper holes. He smiled to
himself as he ran his hands down the front of him, looking down at his new
pants.
"What
are you grinning about?" Wesley asked, irritated.
Angel
looked up, leaned against the front desk and clasped his hands behind his head.
He smiled even wider at his co-worker. "Cordy thinks I'm hot."
END.