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.

| Fiction Search | Home Page | Back |