Pairings: Buffy/Blando, Angel/Cord (of wood), Buffy/Angel (yes... )
Disclaimer: I don't own NE of these peeps. I wish I did. Then I could kill Whordy and Biley and let Buffy and Angel live happily ever after. But like they won't anyway?! Lol.
Author's Note: Okay, so I'm glad that a lot of U have liked the beginning! Don't worry y'all, it's gonna totally be different. I don't, like, like reading all the same fics all the times. Yawn, totally boring! Also, Robyn, get a clue. You're just saaaaad because friggin' Whoredelia is DEAD (ding dong, the witch is dead) and will never be with Angel ever now. Besides, she was just a pathetic Buffy replacement. So get over it. Like, now. Loser. So, here's the next chappy in the story. We're in LA now, which you should get if you read it. But anyways, enjoy. And review! Like, duh!
He was standing on the beach, the rays of the sun gently washing over his face. It was beautiful. It was perfect. Except ...
At the sound of footsteps, Angel turned around, catching sight of the one thing that could make the day complete. Her.
Buffy spun, mirroring his smile, her bright sundress flowing in the soft breeze. Catching his face in her hands, she brought her head up to him for a kiss. Closing his eyes, Angel sank into the sensations which threatened to overwhelm him.
Buffy. The beach. The golden sun which was warm, so warm and ... hot. Hot.
Jerking his eyes open, Angel pulled the covers over his head. The light shone dangerously outside that barrier, and he couldn't help it when his voice came out as a low growl.
"Cordelia. What have I told you about waking me up like that?"
From beyond the sheets, he heard a snicker.
"What have I told you about sleeping past nine? Besides, it's not like it was that bad. Just a little smoke."
The light in the room faded as he heard her pull the curtains back in place.
"Anyway," she sighed, sitting down beside him, "You should be apologizing to me. I'm the one that had to breathe that crap in. My voice is a major part of my acting career. What would the directors think if your smoking body fucked that up?" She paused. "And I didn't mean it that way. Don't go getting a big head ... or a bigger one, anyway. I mean, really, you should have that forehead looked at."
Angel drew the covers down, looking up at her. Cordelia smiled lazily and lay down, resting her head next to his. She inhaled and, with a wrinkle of her nose, sat quickly back up.
"Seriously. You need to take a shower now. I'm not gonna walk around with you stinking like mesquite all day."
She pulled the sheets back and onto the floor. Pulling him up with one hand, she kissed him. Angel tried to get into it, but he simply couldn't.
He knew that he needed to get over her. He had to. He knew that they could never be together; he had decided as much himself. But Cordelia could never be Buffy. Even with his eyes closed, she wasn't as good. He could fool her, but not himself.
Cordelia pulled away from him, a frown on her face.
"You didn't get doughnuts yet. I thought you said you'd get doughnuts for breakfast."
"I will, I just -"
Tapping her foot against the concrete floor, she folded her arms.
"Jelly. Cake. Glazed."
When he didn't move, she glowered; "Now?!"
Sprinting toward the door, Angel barely made it inside before his blanket began to smoke. Throwing it down at the floor, he strode inside the office, a large box of doughnuts resting in his hands.
At his firey entrance, Wesley looked up from the text he was translating.
"Angel. What are you doing out and about so early?"
He lifted the box of doughnuts and Wes smiled knowingly.
"Cordelia sent you for them? Again? You'd really think she could do that herself. I thought you were going to have a talk with her."
Brushing his hair back in place, Angel sat down next to Wesley.
"Yeah, so did I. Turns out she's not the kind of girl who likes to talk."
"Well, I could've told you that."
Wesley glanced over at the pink box and tugged it over towards himself. Opening it, he scanned the contents.
"Which ones does Cordelia like again? No matter. I suppose I should wait for her to choose."
Angel grinned. "Well, you know how picky she is about her sweets. Just like -"
"Just like who?"
He heard her speak before he saw her.
Cordelia strode into the office, clad in an oversized robe and toweling off her wet hair.
"I hope you don't mind, but I used your robe. It's not like you showered yet, anyway."
She looked over at the box on the table and smiled. Walking over to the doughnuts, she peered at the selection. After a moment she frowned.
"There are no custard."
Angel looked up at her. Didn't he get what she wanted? Wasn't his effort good enough? Buffy would never have complained about doughnuts. She loved just being with him. That's part of the reason he missed her so much.
"Uhh, I thought you hated custard."
With a heavy sigh, she corrected him: "No, Wesley hates custard. Wesley. Not me. I like custard. Did you think you were buying these for Wes? Do I LOOK British to you? Do I ever say pip-pip and fucking CHEERIO?"
"No, but -"
With a stamp of her foot, she picked up the box and tossed it casually into the garbage.
"These are trash. Get me the ones I want. And shower, you really stink."
Angel looked at the discarded doughnuts. Biting his lip, he picked up the blanket and ran back out into the hot sun. Cordelia watched him go, a wicked smile on her lips.