LOVESICK
by Christie

Genre: C/A Angst, Friendship...ish 
Rating: PG 
Spoilers: That Vision Thing 
Summary: Set after That Vision Thing, Cordelia gets regular old sick and she and Angel continue to blur the line of friendship. 
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended. No profit made. 
Distribution: List archives, Too Precious, those with my fic. Anyone else, please ask. 
10/3/01

* 

The rain fell in a steady downpour and Cordelia sighed, her warm breath making a fuzzy circle on the windowpane. The glass was cold where her forehead was pressed against it, and it felt good. Everywhere else her body was hot; not feverish-hot, but hot enough to be uncomfortable. 

It wasn't warm in the hotel, Cordelia was pretty sure of it. They always kept the thermostat set to 74 degrees, the exact temperature she, Wesley and Gunn could agree on without bickering. But taking off her sweater didn't help, and that sticky, thin film of sweat that made you feel like you needed a shower was starting to spread over her skin. 

With another sigh, Cordelia pushed her weight off the chair she was resting against and tied her sweater around her waist. She glanced at Wesley in his jacket, reading a book under a lamp. He wasn't warm. He was under a 60-watt bulb in a jacket and he wasn't warm. Along with the gross sticky sweat-film spreading across her body, Cordelia felt a wave of goosebumps prickle her skin and a steady, dull throb start just below her left temple. 

Fantastic. Goosebumps happened when you were cold, or scared, but not when you're hot and sweaty and getting a headache. Unless those goosebumps are chills, and you're getting sick. Cordelia did not want to get sick. She felt like she'd just gotten over being sick. Magically-evilly-induced sick, but sick still. 

She made her way back around the Hyperion's front desk and lowered herself into her chair. Wesley looked up briefly, but didn't even seem to really see her before turning his gaze back down to the book in his lap. Cordelia ignored him ignoring her, and settled her head into the palms of her hands, elbows resting against the mess of paperwork littering the top of her desk. She'd stayed late to file, but that obviously wasn't going to happen any time soon. 

The pages Wesley turned every few minutes and the ticking of the clock that hung on the wall behind her were the only sounds filtering into her decidedly hazy conscious. The cool hand that came to rest on the exposed back of her neck made her shriek and lunge defensively backward. 

"Whoa." Angel caught her chair before it rolled into the wall and steadied the Seer in it. 

Cordelia put her hand to her rapidly beating heart as her feet stopped the chair from swiveling one hundred and eighty degrees. "Holy crap Angel, you scared the hell out of me!" 

"Sorry." He shrugged. "You look like you don't feel well." 

It crossed her mind to further glare at him in anger and annoyance, but Cordelia's heart just wasn't in it, and she really, really didn't feel good. "I don't," she admitted, dropping her hand from her heart into her lap. The other one came to rest against her forehead for several seconds, then dropped unceremoniously as well. 

Angel's brow had furrowed into deep lines of concern, and Cordelia resisted the urge to chastise him for being a worrywart. She'd appreciated his hemming and hawing when the evil visions had overtaken her brain. It was nice to know someone cared so much, and would do anything to make her better. But this was a little cold, the flu maybe, nothing for Angel to go ballistic about. 

"I'm fine," she told him, laying a hand on his arm and offering up a small smile. "Just a little cold or something. No big. I'm gonna go - " 

"Upstairs and rest," Angel finished for her, putting a hand on the back of the chair and offering his other to help her rise. 

She took it, glancing at him strangely as he led her to the stairs. "I can go home..." she began uncertainly, wondering if she should even fight this one. Her head pounded anew with each step she took. It was like a migraine, only with little baby migraines sprouting up in all corners of her skull. Angel shook his head and stopped at the foot of the steps, considering. He let go of her hand for a moment, hooking one arm around her back and allowing her to lean her weight against him. Together, they started up the stairs, Cordelia noticing that he hadn't responded to her argument; Cordelia not really caring as another wave of chills washed over her. 

Fred's little head peeked out of her own door as Angel used his free hand to turn the knob of his. Cordelia smiled weakly at her, unsure if she could even see their faces from so far down the darkened hallway. As they crossed the threshold of Angel's suite, her tiny voice floated over to them. 

"Everythin' okay?" 

Cordelia swallowed and opened her mouth to respond, but Angel's hand on her shoulder stilled her. "Fine, Fred. Cordy doesn't feel well. She's gonna rest and we need to keep it quiet for her, okay?" 

He kept his voice low, as low as he could and still allow the girl to hear him. Despite her throbbing head, Cordelia managed a small chuckle at his words as Angel steered her toward his neatly made bed. The vampire gruffed above her. 

"What?" 

She stood on her own, hands crossed over her chest to ward off the increasing chills even as the thin film of sweat became not-so-thin on the back of her neck. "You telling Fred to keep it down is funny." She shuddered and rubbed her hands over her arms. 

Angel pulled the covers back and motioned Cordelia to get underneath. She did, pulling the bottom sheet over her legs and torso, but leaving the comforter folded back. 

"I'm hot and I'm cold." 

Angel nodded and the worry-lines returned, his entire face darkening as he sat down next to her. He lifted a hand, placed it against her forehead and let it rest. Cordelia sighed and melted backward into the pillow. His hand threaded through her hair, again, then again, and she knew the sweat was pasting it against her skull. When his hand came away it was wet. 

"I don't know why I'm sick." 

Angel shook his head and pushed out a breath. "I don't know why either." 

Cordelia saw in his eyes that he left a bunch of thoughts unsaid. She lifted an arm and covered his hand with hers. "I think this is regular old sick, not magical sick." 

He seemed to consider it and nodded slightly in acquiescence, but the worry remained in his dark eyes. "I just - after what happened with the visions - I don't trust anything. I don't want anything - " 

With his pause, Cordelia saw his Adams apple bob in his throat with a hard swallow. She felt her stomach flip-flop and her heart thud in her chest. A moment passed, then two, and his grip on her hand tightened before it loosened and he let it go. 

He smiled slightly. "You should rest." 

Cordelia forced herself to ignore the hitch in his voice, tried to digest what was so obviously going on between them. It wasn't that Angel cared, but that he cared so much. It hadn't really sunk in before, when he freed an ultra-evil baddie in order to save her, because no one had ever cared... not like that. 

The depth of Angel's feelings scared her, because she knew all the ways it was wrong. Angel was not only a no-bone, but a no-fall-in-love too. Cordelia had told herself a thousand times, and she made it a thousand and one for good measure. Convincing her heart would have to come later. She didn't have the strength just yet. 

"You look like you're thinking, not resting." 

Angel was smiling a half-smile, and Cordelia blinked, focusing on his handsome face. She wrinkled her nose and tried to convince herself he wasn't a vampire, and therefore couldn't hear the unequivocal thudding of her heart. 

"I'm resting," she lied weakly, forcing herself to return his smile. 

Their eyes held, his hand grasped hers again, fingers lacing through. She couldn't find it in herself to pull away and relished in the closeness, knowing in her heart of hearts that this was as close as they were going to get. She felt like she could read everything in his eyes - awarded a moment of clairvoyance into his very soul. The Powers liked to be funny that way, as they gave her a glimpse of the heartache he too was feeling, the desperation that accompanied the heart that could never be filled, the love that could never be realized. 

Minutes ticked by on the old clock in the corner, and Cordelia felt her throat lump and her eyes begin to burn with tears. Wesley's soft knock pulled Angel's eyes away first, his hand slipping covertly out of her grasp. 

"Is everything...okay?" 

Cordelia watched a thousand emotions flicker across Angel's face in an interim of seconds. Quiet detachment settled, and he nodded. 

"We think it's just regular sick," he told the former watcher. "But I want to be sure there's nothing magical involved." 

It went without saying that after the vision disaster, no one was being too careful. Cordelia appreciated the concern, she really did, but even more, she appreciated Wesley's interruption because her heart was finally settling back to normal and the ache in her throat was slowly dissipating. 

The moment was over, and she was strangely glad. One person could only take so much tension and desperation and heartache in one day. She actually felt sick again. Sweaty and yucky and tired and restless all at the same time. 

Cordelia watched Wesley study her a few moments longer, then he nodded. "I'll be right downstairs should anything unusual arise." He started toward the door, stopping just in the entryway. "Feel better, Cordelia." 

She managed a thank you that he probably didn't hear and sighed when the door clicked shut behind him. Angel didn't take her hand again and she forced herself to remember why that was a good thing. The right thing. 

The only thing. 

It was all about restraint and will power. Will power and restraint. Controlling who you love. Right. Great. Fan-freaking-tastic. 

Angel's cooled palm passed over her forehead, tucking her hair behind her ear. Cordelia closed her eyes. His fingers lingered below her cheekbone, just at the juncture of her neck, then disappeared. Cordelia didn't look to see where they'd gone. She felt the bed lift as he rose. Heard the muted click of his booted heels as he paced. 

Sleep was not coming. 

Her head pounded. Her ears rang. Angel paced. 

Ticks on the clock - too many to count - and the mattress finally squeaked under his weight once more. Cordelia felt her hands lifted, both squeezed into his. She opened her eyes and he shook his head. 

"Keep them closed." 

She did, grateful for the darkness once more. She let him lift her hands, cradled in his, to his mouth. He kissed one, then the other, replacing each one to her lap afterward. 

"We can't...you know..." his voice was raspy. Cordelia wanted to open her eyes to see if he was crying, but didn't. It didn't matter - the lump in her throat grew again. 

"I know," she managed. 

"I don't know how...I didn't mean..." 

He was speaking in fragments, but she understood. She didn't know how this happened either. She didn't mean for it to go this far. Her heart squeezed in her chest and she turned on her side, away from him, as if it would help alleviate the pain. 

Her voice squeaked, she barely got the words out. "Me neither." 

"I'm sorry, Cordy." 

She nodded, tears dotting his pillow. 

"Me too." 

The bed bounced as he abruptly stood. No breath on her cheek, no warning at all, only cool, salty lips against hers for a too-brief moment. 

Cordelia kissed back, grasped blindly for his face and held him there - one second, two - before he growled deep and low in his throat and pulled away. 

She heard his steps, three, then four, toward the door. Expecting him to leave, she opened her eyes. Turned, saw the back of him - black pants, gray sweater - stock still, hand on the doorknob. 

Just pull it open and go.

She willed him, and he ignored her. He turned, back to the door, taking the chair nearest and sliding it toward the wall. He folded his long body into it, leaned forward, elbows on knees, head in hands. He sat. 

Cordelia closed her eyes again, comforted. He wouldn't leave her alone. Not now, not ever. She felt her body respond to exhaustion and fall into sleep. 

END.

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