Fic: Rest Stop

Author: Mae

Fandom: Angel the Series

Pairing: Angel/The Host-Lorne

Rating: Strong R

Status: Was originally posted to the Buffy Angel Improv List. Like the first one, it can stand alone.

Archive: If you like it, take it. I've already admitted I'm a slut.

Feedback: Would be lovely. azryal@mediaone.net

Series: Travelers

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own. I am making no money.

Notes: If anyone can tell me that The Host *doesn't* want Angel..I'll eat my mouse pad.

Warning: No spoilers.

Summary: The Host needs a shot of espresso...Angel-flavored...

We didn’t agree to wait. We made no promises. There was nothing in that last kiss that said we were never going to touch anyone else.

So…why do I feel guilty?

Why am I eating my heart out over the best one night stand I’ve ever had? I should be curled up against that broad, cool back, listening for a heartbeat that isn’t there while snuggling my thighs up under that fine ass. Instead, I’m sitting at my bedside, watching the sleep of the dead. In one hand I have a Hot Toddy, in the other, a postcard. "HELLO

FROM NEW ORLEANS" it says in bright yellow letters. There’s three pictures on it; one of St. Louis Cathedral from the front of Jackson Square, to its right is a Mardi Gras float-the one with the big scary

jester’s head, you know what I’m talking about-, and the last one is of those gorgeous balconies with their cascading ferns. I went there once, incognito, of course. Had a great time at "Cat’s Meow", the karaoke/eternal frat party bar on Bourbon Street. It’s a lap dance—er, lap full of good memories.

On the other side, in messy, hurried writing, it says "Wish you were here. No one makes a decent drink anywhere. It’s all daiquiris. XXX Lindsey." It had come in the mail yesterday, sandwiched between an

invitation to a fertility invocation and the phone bill. So quiet, innocuous, and sweetly innocent…no love words, not a mention of the hours we spent rolling across the span of silk that I…

…just came all over with Lindsey’s mortal enemy smiling above me.

Okay, so they’re not mortal enemies anymore. They sure aren’t friends, though, and this is the one thing I probably shouldn’t have done. Ever. So, when Angel finds out that I’ve been pining for the counselor …and that I probably used his big, buff bod to take the edge off of a loneliness I didn’t think I could survive, how pissed will he be? And when Lindsey finds out that Angel had done what he couldn’t bring

himself to …God, what did I do? It was good, really really oh-my-god-ride-me-big-daddy good. He took his time, finding all the places on my body for producing shivers and moans, not an easy task for someone new to this green physique. His mouth was so talented, his hands marvelously inventive. He’d covered me with wet kisses and swipes of his tongue, cataloging each response to use while he’d pounded me into the mattress later.

Yeah, I’d wanted Angel, but had I wanted him bad enough to end something that hadn’t even begun yet? I can’t see my own aura. I can’t tell if Lindsey’s still in my future or not. The end of his road was to lie with me. Have I ruined it with this long promised and forever teased with liaison? Will it be worth it to have yielded to this temptation? Am I over dramatizing the situation? Passions, look out! Here comes your new Queen of Pain!

I knock back my Toddy, gritting my teeth at the fire searing down my throat, then kneel beside the bed. In a little, invisible drawer at the bottom of the nightstand, bundled and tied with a crimson ribbon, are the other cards he’s sent me since he left. I’ve held them so much that they are a little ragged around the edges, but I can still feel a little bit of him when they first get to me. It’s like he sings to them before he drops them in the mail. I tuck the newest one in, in order, behind the one from Houston last week. Will he follow I-10 all the way to Jacksonville? I wonder how much it costs to catch that train…

I don’t know if Lindsey will be back in a month, a year, a decade…but I do know he will be back. He’ll be back and we’ll each have our own stories and our own confessions to share. I’ll tell him about this night, when I stopped to refuel and rest and start over with renewed purpose. He probably won’t like it, but I think he’ll forgive me for it.

Especially when I tell him that he’s a better kisser than Angel.

END