Rating: PG
Fandom:: Angel
Pairings: Angel / Lorne
Timeline: Second Season
Spoilers: none
Keywords: Humour, Romance (kind of)
Summary: Angel waits nervously. He just isn't entirely sure why.
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss, though he doesn't deserve it. The title is from John Keats' poem ‘The Eve of St. Agnes'. The series name is from ‘Strange Fits of Passion Have I Known' by William Wordsworth.
Author's Note: This is dedicated to Dusk, as ever. Thanks for the beta, brainstorming, and endless chats, darling. You're the greatest. This is also for Dr. Graber who taught my English lit class and didn't make a fuss when my book mysteriously disappeared a the end of the semester. Therefore giving me a great resource from which to find names for my fics. {g}
He'd nearly picked up the phone three times a day, every day, this week to call the whole thing off. What the hell had possessed him to say yes in the first place? Angel wasn't sure, and as Friday drew closer, he was more and more certain that this was a bad idea, and less and less able to feel he could back out.
And the worst part was that it had taken nearly a day to remember... remember the last time he'd gone out to a movie... with Buffy, in Sunnydale. And now here he was getting ready to go out to another movie with someone else, less than two months after her death. What was wrong with him? True, he hadn't been with Buffy for two years now, but... Angel wasn't sure exactly what it was that was wrong, but something was. He just couldn't get rid of the idea that he was somehow betraying Buffy, or at the very least betraying her memory.
But would it be any better to keep sitting here, thinking about her and the past?
Angel stared at the clock in front of him. 5 o'clock. In five and a half hours, he was supposed to show up at Caritas. What if he just didn't show up? But Angel dismissed the idea out of hand. He owed the Host more than that.
Alright, so he had to go. He struggled to push the memories out of his mind for now.
Angel stood up, suddenly restless. He couldn't sit here any more. It was too late to call the Host and tell him he wasn't coming. He had to go. And if he was going to do this, then... Angel looked down at himself. He should change his clothes. Angel made his way across the lobby, hoping to make it up the stairs before he was spotted.
"Angel?" Damn.
He turned to face Wesley. "Yeah?"
"Do you know where the Kalish chronicles are?"
Angel's mind went blank. All he could think of was getting changed and trying not to panic about tonight. "Uh... no I don't. Sorry."
Wesley sighed, turning away. "I know I had them here just a minute ago."
Angel turned and fled up the stairs before anyone else could stop him. Entering his suite, he stalked over to the closet in the bedroom. He paused before opening it, hoping somehow to find a larger variety than when he last looked. But the door opened on the same thing he knew was in there. Black. Lots and lots of black shirts.
With the Host's colorful clothes in the back of his mind, Angel set to work, trying to find anything with color. He found, and discarded a gray shirt. He heard a voice in his head telling him that gray wasn't much better than black, but he couldn't tell if the voice belonged to the Host or to Cordelia.
Finally, Angel frowned down at the shirts he'd pulled out of the closet, laying in a mournful heap on the bed. Black, black, black, gray, black... blue! Angel nearly pounced on the blue shirt. Dark blue, yes, but it wasn't a bad color for all that.
Okay, he had a reasonable shirt. Now what?
Angel quickly stripped out of his pants and shirt and put on the new shirt. Then, after a moment's deliberation, he picked out a clean pair of black jeans to go with it. Okay, fine, this would work.
After a few more minutes of staring at the pile of shirts, still wondering if the one he was wearing would be alright, Angel headed back downstairs.
Wesley was still searching for the book, and had pulled Cordelia and Gunn into helping him look. Angel slipped past them, not feeling he would be of much help in his present state, and settled down at his desk again.
Five thirty, the clock read. That was all? All that searching had only taken half an hour? It had seemed like an hour at least.
Angel took a deep breath. He wasn't going to be nervous, he wasn't going to think about all the reasons he shouldn't be doing this. He was just going to sit here until it was time to go. He picked up a book, determined to sit quietly and read.
But his mind wouldn't stop working. All the things he didn't want to think about, all the things that hurt too badly to think about... they all crowded in and Angel couldn't seem to focus on the words in front of him. He just sat there staring at the same page in the book, without the slightest idea what the book was about.
"Angel!" His head snapped up to find Cordelia standing over him with her hands on her hips.
"What?"
She didn't answer him, but plucked the book out of his hands. "Wes, I found it," she announced striding quickly past Angel to where Wesley and Gunn had both turned from their respective searches.
"Oh good," Wesley said, happily accepting the book and disappearing back into his office.
"Where the hell was it?" Gunn asked, looking more than a little annoyed.
"Angel was reading it," Cordelia said, casting a rather pissed off glance over her shoulder.
Angel slumped back into his seat, wishing the world would open up and swallow him, as Gunn glared at him.
"Sorry," Angel mumbled. "I didn't realize what you were looking for."
He looked down at his lap and found himself playing nervously with the cuffs of his shirt. The blue shirt was stupid looking, he decided, and as soon as Gunn and Cordelia had returned to whatever it was that they were doing he stood up and sped quickly up the stairs.
It took a while to settle on a new shirt. Black, this time, and slightly rumpled from being left in a pile on his bed with the other shirts. It was a good forty minutes until Angel finally sat back down at his desk to look at the clock. Quarter after six. Was this thing slow?
"Alright, what gives?" Cordelia asked, as she perched herself on the corner of his desk.
"What do you mean?"
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Oh come off it Angel, you've been weird all afternoon. Well, weird-er. What's going on?"
"Nothing." He tried his best to look innocent, but Cordelia's expression told him he failed miserably.
"Yeah sure, and I'm going to have dinner at the White House tonight." Then the sarcasm faded and she looked at him with concern. "Are you still... Look, Angel know Buffy dying was hard, but... you know you can talk to me, right?"
Angel looked away from the gentle sympathy in her eyes. His heart constricted in his chest and he struggled with his voice for a moment. "I'm alright, Cord," he said finally. He looked back up into her worried face, and forced a small smile. "Really, I'm... dealing."
"You're sure?"
Angel nodded.
Cordelia studied him for another moment and then sighed. "Alright, well, I'm heading home."
"Good night," Angel said, as she slid off his desk and headed toward the door. She paused only a few steps away and turned back.
"I'm serious, Angel. About you being able to talk to me. If you need me, just call. It's not like I have a life or anything," she smirked, but her eyes were warm, and Angel couldn't help but smile.
"Thank you," was all he could manage.
Cordelia seemed to understand and her smile broadened. Then she frowned. "Are you just going to sit here and brood all night?"
Angel stomach dropped. What to tell her. "Um, no? That is, I was going to... go somewhere."
"Where?" Cordelia ask, looking rather surprised.
"Out," Angel said. Damn! Why had he said anything? "Um, I was... that is... there's a movie."
Cordelia regarded him steadily for a moment. "A movie." Angel nodded and she folded her arms over her chest. "Should I be pulling out the holy water and stakes here?"
"Cordy, haven't you always told me that I should get out more?"
"Yeah, but getting you to do it is like pulling teeth. You never just volunteer to go out."
Angel bit his lip. Tell her. Don't tell her. Tell her. Don't tell her.
"Well, see... I sort of said... he said..." Angel knew he was babbling, but knowing that wasn't making it any easier to stop. His mind was working too fast, measuring the pros and cons of telling Cordelia the truth, as opposed to some lie that he might be caught in later.
"Hold up. He who?" Cordelia asked.
"Huh?"
She dropped her purse on a chair and came back to perch herself on the edge of his desk, speaking slowly as if to a child. "You said, ‘he said'. So, who is ‘he'?"
"Oh, um..." Angel sigh inwardly. May as well spill. If he lied and she somehow found out the truth later, she'd kill him. "The Host. I sort of told him... he wanted to go to a movie and I told him I'd go with him."
Cordelia laughed. "Is that all? I was starting to expect some hot date at least!"
Angel looked away, and was grateful that he couldn't blush. But he must have looked guilty enough.
"Okay, what am I missing here?"
"Well, I think it is, kind of. A date, I mean."
Cordelia was silent for a moment. Angel really wanted to glance at her what kind of look there was on her face, but he didn't dare. He just sat perfectly still waiting for... something.
"You're going on a date with a green demon."
"Um, yeah?"
"A male green demon."
Angel started fidgeting. "Yes, I am."
"Why?"
Finally, he looked at her to find Cordelia watching him as though waiting for the punch line of some joke.
He opened his mouth to respond, and then closed it. Why was he going out with the Host? He still wasn't really sure.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time?"
"And what time was this, exactly?"
"Last Friday," Angel said. "I went to see him about something and I was upset about some stuff and we talked and then he said I really needed to get out more, and he asked me to go see a movie with him and I said yes." Even without the need for oxygen, that was a lot to get out all at once, Angel thought. Cordelia on the other hand, didn't look impressed.
"Angel.... Okay, you're going on a date with a guy."
Angel fought the urge to fidget under her gaze and managed to stay still. "Yeah?"
"But..." Cordelia seemed to flounder for a moment. "You're not gay!" she finally exploded.
"Um, well no, but... Would you mind if we didn't talk about this?" Angel asked pleadingly.
"Yes. So, why are you going out with a guy if you're not gay? I mean, I happen to know that you like girls."
Angel shifted in his seat again. He was feeling very uncomfortable, and was beginning to wish he'd lied to begin with. "I do like girls... women. But..." he shrugged. "I don't dislike guys."
"Are you meaning to say that you swing both ways and you never told me?"
"It just never came up," Angel said defensively. "It's not like I date very often or anything."
"Yeah, and gay or not gay thing aside, there's a very good reason for that. Hello! Curse, soul, sex and I come into work to find myself working with a psycho killer. Any of this ringing a bell?"
"The curse?" he stuttered. "Aren't we jumping a gun a little here? We're just going to see a movie! It's only one date!"
"Yeah, but what about the next date or the one after that?"
"Cordy, I..." Angel closed his eyes for a moment, trying to compose his thoughts. When he opened them Cordelia was looking at him with an expression that told him there was no way he was getting away without some damn good answers. He shifted in his seat yet again. "I'm not sure there's even going to be a second date. I'm not entirely sure why I said I'd go on this one. This whole thing has me rather... confused." He was relieved to see Cordelia's expression softening.
"Angel, if you're so unsure about it, why don't you just call and tell him you can't go. Say I had a vision or something."
Angel shook his head. "He's put up with a lot from me. I haven't always been fun to deal with, but he still always made time to help me out. It's just a movie," he said with a slight smile. "I owe him that much. Besides, he can be... fun sometimes."
Cordelia smiled in return. "I guess I can see that." She stood up then, picking up her purse. "So, when is this date thing happening?"
Angel glanced at the clock. Seven o'clock, it read in defiance of the fact that he was sure it had to be later than that. "Um, three and a half hours." Cordelia raised an eyebrow. "He said to be at Caritas at ten thirty."
"You'd better make sure you're not late then. Actually, it wouldn't be a bad idea to show up at ten." Suddenly, she laughed. "I can't wait to tell Wesley and Gunn about this!"
"Um, could you maybe not tell them?"
"No, I couldn't. Secrets are bad, Angel. Remember? Besides, the looks on their faces will be fantastic!"
Inwardly, Angel groaned. And he'd felt the need to tell Cordelia the truth because? But oddly enough, he felt better for having told her. She was his closest friend and he didn't like keeping secrets from her.
"Well, I'm off. Angel," She turned that no compromises expression on him again. "I want full details tomorrow. Understood?" Angel nodded, not about to argue with her. She rewarded him with a smile. "Good. And by the way," her eyes roamed critically over his out fit. "If I were you, I'd go put on some color. Night."
Cordelia swept out of the hotel and Angel glanced down at his black-on-black ensemble. Hadn't he put a blue shirt on? He distinctly remembered looking through his closet for something not black. He was up out of his chair in a second.
Where the hell had he put that blue shirt?
