fic post, set after Hero
Title: First Christmas
Author: Samsom
Pairing: C/Aish.
Summary: Cordelia tries to brighten Angel Investigations.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine still.
Notes: Written yesterday, just a little bit of fluffy angsty Christmas cheer. Set a few weeks afer Hero. Thanks to damnskippytoo for the damn fine beta. :)
~~
The muffled thumps and hammering woke him up towards sunset.
Half the night spent tracking a Fyarl demon through the sewers of Silverlake left him smelly and not in a good mood, and five hours of sleep had done little to cure that, but given that Cordelia had been alone in the upstairs office for the better part of the day, he figured he’d better check up on things.
If it wasn’t demons, it might be -
Christmas decorations.
Angel stopped in the doorway between his office and the reception area.
Garland was strung around Cordelia’s desk, and twinkling lights wound around the table lamp she used during late night researching.
There was a miniature Santa smiling jolly next to the coffee maker, and a very small tree in the far corner next to the filing cabinet.
“Cordelia?”
Cordy straightened from the tree, and turned to face Angel, lights hanging from her wrist and loose around her neck, blinking red, blue, and green.
She smiled at him, wide and happy.
“Merry Christmas, Angel!”
He blinked in confusion before his head cleared, and realized she was right.
It was December.
Twenty-third.
Almost a year since….
He stopped the thought away before it formed, full and painful, and scrubbed a hand through his hair.
“Wow, your hair…”
He looked up at the tone in her voice.
“What?”
She shrugged and turned back to the tree.
“Nothing, I just didn’t think it could stick any more straight up, but you learn something new every day.”
She reached into a box and pulled out a star encrusted with rhinestones. Brushing her hands across the points to clear the dust, she stuck it on top of the tree.
“There,” she said as Angel gingerly touched the top of his head. His hair pricked his palm softly, feeling just the slightest bit crunchy. “What do you think?”
She stepped back and put her hands on her hips, looking back at him expectantly.
“It’s…ahh…nice? Cordelia, where did you get all this?”
“The basement!” she exclaimed as though it should have been a revelation, unwinding the lights from her wrists and shoulders as she stepped back towards her desk. They twinkled and winked, merry and bright. “It just goes to show you that one person’s junk is another person’s Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, you know?”
She took the lights and strung them along the credenza behind her desk, under the window, taping them every few inches, tape dispenser whizzing as she went.
Outside, Los Angeles settled into a blue twilight, the temperatures dropping without the warming sun.
“And the Santa dances when you push on his belly,” she turned back to him briefly. “Give it a whirl.”
Angel hesitated, still mostly confused, and reached out a finger as he took a step to the left, pushing the soft belly of the doll.
Ho, ho, ho!” It guffawed merrily, gyrating side to side as though it were trying to do the hokey-pokey. “Merry Christmas!”
Angel blinked.
“Did you know there actually is a Santa Claus?” He said suddenly, turning his head to look at her.
“No way!” Cordelia exclaimed in delight. “Really?”
Angel found himself nodding, unsure of how he was actually having this conversation with Cordelia Chase, to whom he hadn’t given more than a passing thought to this time last year.
Now she was lighting up his office.
Literally.
“He’s not exactly like the mythical Santa, though, he’s more of an-“
He stopped for a second.
“An-?” she prompted.
“Er, more of an…eater…of children,” he finished lamely as she blinked at him. “Not so much a toy maker.”
She frowned, and Angel was suddenly afraid he’d killed something else precious, but then she wagged her finger at him.
“You know, that explains a lot.” She replied. “When I was a little girl, I had a nightmare once, the night before Christmas. Santa had sharp teeth and red eyes, and, come to think of it, bad breath. I chalked it up to too much egg nog. Oh! Speaking of!”
She hurried over to the small fridge and opened the door, reaching in to pull out a bowl of thick brown liquid.
Angel sniffed subtly, alarm bells going off.
“It’s egg nog.” she told him as she set it on her desk and reached over for a mug with the words I’ll be jolly tomorrow emblazoned on the side. “And O pos.”
She dipped the mug into the concoction and wiped up the overflow as she turned.
She held out it out to him with a smile.
“Since you can’t really taste anything, I thought mixing in blood would add that extra something.”
Angel quietly panicked as he stared at it.
“Cordelia, I -“
“Go ahead, taste it.”
He took the mug knowing full well he’d regret it, and brought it to his mouth.
As she looked on, he tipped the ceramic into his mouth before he could think about it. He’d survived a hundred years in hell, and one hundred and fifty years with his fickle sire before that.
He could do this one small thing.
It filled his mouth
The taste was beyond foul.
He closed his eyes and tried to think about pleasant things - hot pokers through the eyes, puppies with nails through them, Barry Manilow singing Copacabana - as he swallowed the majority of it, trying not to spit the whole thing out.
Nuns and altar boys.
Drusilla’s eyes like pinpricks of starlight in the cold night.
He swallowed again and opened his eyes to see Cordelia looking at him with an expectant smile.
“Well?” she prompted.
“It’s…“he searched for the right words, settling on the only right one as the silence stretched out. “Tasty.”
Her smile grew until it blinded him.
“I knew it.” She said with her usual assurance. Then she walked back around to the other side of her desk and grabbed her purse out of the bottom drawer. Angel, subtly he hoped, placed the mug on the edge of the table behind him, next to the Santa. “Can you do me a favor and take care of the rest when you’ve finished? I’ve got to run.”
Angel nodded and made a silent promise to do exactly that.
She shrugged into her jacket.
“Thanks,” she smiled. “I need to get to the store before all the turkeys are gone, if they aren’t already.” She told him as she walked to the front door. Then she paused and turned to look at him again. “Listen…I’m having a small get-together the day after tomorrow, for all the orphans I’ve met in LA.”
“Orphans?”
“Yeah,” she smiled faintly as she dropped her eyes to her toes - a sure sign of the vulnerability that he was coming to understand lived beneath her thorny tongue.
He wasn’t sure if it was new, he thought, because he hadn’t glimpsed it in Sunnydale. But since that first day when she’d asked him for a job, he’d seen it more than a few times, especially after Doyle’s death.
“Turns out my building is full of people without families,” she continued. “I thought having a Christmas party would be a good way of having something to do besides…” She stopped and regrouped, afraid of what she was going to reveal. “Anyway, you’re totally invited.”
He realized he was smiling gently at her, the foul taste in his mouth fading.
“Thank you, Cordelia.”
She gave him another smile in return, tempered this time.
“I miss him.” she confessed, turning away before he could say anything else.
Angel smelled the tears as she walked out the front door.
~~
It took a second or two for the door to open after Angel rang the bell.
Music spilled out along with a dozen different smells and Cordelia stood in the doorway, looking as warm as a ray of sunshine.
“Angel! Come in!”
She reached out and grabbed his wrist, drawing him into her apartment.
~end~
Author: Samsom
Pairing: C/Aish.
Summary: Cordelia tries to brighten Angel Investigations.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not mine still.
Notes: Written yesterday, just a little bit of fluffy angsty Christmas cheer. Set a few weeks afer Hero. Thanks to damnskippytoo for the damn fine beta. :)
~~
The muffled thumps and hammering woke him up towards sunset.
Half the night spent tracking a Fyarl demon through the sewers of Silverlake left him smelly and not in a good mood, and five hours of sleep had done little to cure that, but given that Cordelia had been alone in the upstairs office for the better part of the day, he figured he’d better check up on things.
If it wasn’t demons, it might be -
Christmas decorations.
Angel stopped in the doorway between his office and the reception area.
Garland was strung around Cordelia’s desk, and twinkling lights wound around the table lamp she used during late night researching.
There was a miniature Santa smiling jolly next to the coffee maker, and a very small tree in the far corner next to the filing cabinet.
“Cordelia?”
Cordy straightened from the tree, and turned to face Angel, lights hanging from her wrist and loose around her neck, blinking red, blue, and green.
She smiled at him, wide and happy.
“Merry Christmas, Angel!”
He blinked in confusion before his head cleared, and realized she was right.
It was December.
Twenty-third.
Almost a year since….
He stopped the thought away before it formed, full and painful, and scrubbed a hand through his hair.
“Wow, your hair…”
He looked up at the tone in her voice.
“What?”
She shrugged and turned back to the tree.
“Nothing, I just didn’t think it could stick any more straight up, but you learn something new every day.”
She reached into a box and pulled out a star encrusted with rhinestones. Brushing her hands across the points to clear the dust, she stuck it on top of the tree.
“There,” she said as Angel gingerly touched the top of his head. His hair pricked his palm softly, feeling just the slightest bit crunchy. “What do you think?”
She stepped back and put her hands on her hips, looking back at him expectantly.
“It’s…ahh…nice? Cordelia, where did you get all this?”
“The basement!” she exclaimed as though it should have been a revelation, unwinding the lights from her wrists and shoulders as she stepped back towards her desk. They twinkled and winked, merry and bright. “It just goes to show you that one person’s junk is another person’s Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, you know?”
She took the lights and strung them along the credenza behind her desk, under the window, taping them every few inches, tape dispenser whizzing as she went.
Outside, Los Angeles settled into a blue twilight, the temperatures dropping without the warming sun.
“And the Santa dances when you push on his belly,” she turned back to him briefly. “Give it a whirl.”
Angel hesitated, still mostly confused, and reached out a finger as he took a step to the left, pushing the soft belly of the doll.
Ho, ho, ho!” It guffawed merrily, gyrating side to side as though it were trying to do the hokey-pokey. “Merry Christmas!”
Angel blinked.
“Did you know there actually is a Santa Claus?” He said suddenly, turning his head to look at her.
“No way!” Cordelia exclaimed in delight. “Really?”
Angel found himself nodding, unsure of how he was actually having this conversation with Cordelia Chase, to whom he hadn’t given more than a passing thought to this time last year.
Now she was lighting up his office.
Literally.
“He’s not exactly like the mythical Santa, though, he’s more of an-“
He stopped for a second.
“An-?” she prompted.
“Er, more of an…eater…of children,” he finished lamely as she blinked at him. “Not so much a toy maker.”
She frowned, and Angel was suddenly afraid he’d killed something else precious, but then she wagged her finger at him.
“You know, that explains a lot.” She replied. “When I was a little girl, I had a nightmare once, the night before Christmas. Santa had sharp teeth and red eyes, and, come to think of it, bad breath. I chalked it up to too much egg nog. Oh! Speaking of!”
She hurried over to the small fridge and opened the door, reaching in to pull out a bowl of thick brown liquid.
Angel sniffed subtly, alarm bells going off.
“It’s egg nog.” she told him as she set it on her desk and reached over for a mug with the words I’ll be jolly tomorrow emblazoned on the side. “And O pos.”
She dipped the mug into the concoction and wiped up the overflow as she turned.
She held out it out to him with a smile.
“Since you can’t really taste anything, I thought mixing in blood would add that extra something.”
Angel quietly panicked as he stared at it.
“Cordelia, I -“
“Go ahead, taste it.”
He took the mug knowing full well he’d regret it, and brought it to his mouth.
As she looked on, he tipped the ceramic into his mouth before he could think about it. He’d survived a hundred years in hell, and one hundred and fifty years with his fickle sire before that.
He could do this one small thing.
It filled his mouth
The taste was beyond foul.
He closed his eyes and tried to think about pleasant things - hot pokers through the eyes, puppies with nails through them, Barry Manilow singing Copacabana - as he swallowed the majority of it, trying not to spit the whole thing out.
Nuns and altar boys.
Drusilla’s eyes like pinpricks of starlight in the cold night.
He swallowed again and opened his eyes to see Cordelia looking at him with an expectant smile.
“Well?” she prompted.
“It’s…“he searched for the right words, settling on the only right one as the silence stretched out. “Tasty.”
Her smile grew until it blinded him.
“I knew it.” She said with her usual assurance. Then she walked back around to the other side of her desk and grabbed her purse out of the bottom drawer. Angel, subtly he hoped, placed the mug on the edge of the table behind him, next to the Santa. “Can you do me a favor and take care of the rest when you’ve finished? I’ve got to run.”
Angel nodded and made a silent promise to do exactly that.
She shrugged into her jacket.
“Thanks,” she smiled. “I need to get to the store before all the turkeys are gone, if they aren’t already.” She told him as she walked to the front door. Then she paused and turned to look at him again. “Listen…I’m having a small get-together the day after tomorrow, for all the orphans I’ve met in LA.”
“Orphans?”
“Yeah,” she smiled faintly as she dropped her eyes to her toes - a sure sign of the vulnerability that he was coming to understand lived beneath her thorny tongue.
He wasn’t sure if it was new, he thought, because he hadn’t glimpsed it in Sunnydale. But since that first day when she’d asked him for a job, he’d seen it more than a few times, especially after Doyle’s death.
“Turns out my building is full of people without families,” she continued. “I thought having a Christmas party would be a good way of having something to do besides…” She stopped and regrouped, afraid of what she was going to reveal. “Anyway, you’re totally invited.”
He realized he was smiling gently at her, the foul taste in his mouth fading.
“Thank you, Cordelia.”
She gave him another smile in return, tempered this time.
“I miss him.” she confessed, turning away before he could say anything else.
Angel smelled the tears as she walked out the front door.
~~
It took a second or two for the door to open after Angel rang the bell.
Music spilled out along with a dozen different smells and Cordelia stood in the doorway, looking as warm as a ray of sunshine.
“Angel! Come in!”
She reached out and grabbed his wrist, drawing him into her apartment.
~end~