Cordelia looked at herself critically in the mirror. There was something wrong with the picture. Something ... off.
"Dennis, do you think this is better than my red halter top with the black split skirt?" She looked at her image in the mirror. She was currently trying on her third outfit in five minutes and nothing seemed right. Everything was either too casual or too dressy, too daring or too mousy, or god forbid, too sexy.
Cordelia wanted to scream in frustration. Damn that man ... well, vampire. Why did he have to start giving her the 'date' vibe? Usually when she dressed for a night with Angel it'd be strictly casual - jeans, top and sweater. No question about it.
Now? Cordelia grumbled inwardly at herself in the mirror. This wasn't right. The top didn't look right.
"Dennis? Help me out here?"
A blood red top floated out of her closet and was deposited gently into her hands. It was made of beautiful material, looking and feeling much more expensive than anything Cordelia had bought for herself in a long, long time. It was exactly her colour, and would set off her elegantly dark features with striking clarity.
"This one? Really?" Cordelia surveyed the top and knew in her heart of hearts it was the right one. Not because she really trusted Dennis to have better taste than her; she'd be dead in her grave before she lost her sense of fashion and good taste. It was just that it was the first one she had tried on and she had loved the way it had looked on her. It made her feel beautiful, elegant and confidently sexy. It fitted and moulded its way about her curves with astonishing agility, and teamed with her black split skirt - the outfit was a killer. It would slay any man dead in his tracks, even if he was already dead - including her former vampire with a soul boss.
It was also one of the nicer tops that Angel had bought for her a few months back.
Cordelia didn't know why she couldn't wear it. She didn't want Angel to think that she'd worn it because he'd given it to her - it'd make things even more uncomfortable tonight if he thought she had meant something by it. On the other hand, this was what she wanted to wear. Why should she be afraid that Angel, her good, good friend, would read more into it than just having extremely good taste in clothes?
Cordelia decided that she shouldn't be afraid of what Angel might think. So what if dinner was more like a 'date' tonight? Angel was still Angel, one of her closest friends, and she was going to have a great time with him no matter what.
She sighed. How did things get so complicated, so quickly? Had she imagined what had happened this afternoon at the Hyperion? What if Angel hadn't meant anything by that gaze and she was making a huge deal about nothing? What if ...
Well, she couldn't worry about that now. She had half an hour to make herself look gorgeous and she wasn't even half dressed yet. Her hair was unruly and she had to dig out the perfect pair of shoes to go with the killer outfit - she was running short on time as it was. Worrying about what tonight was going to bring or mean would come after she stepped out of her room looking stunning. Angel and his gaze and his chocolate brown melt in your mouth eyes would just have to wait a few more minutes.
* * *
Angel stood in front of his closet, bare chested, hair wet and feeling slightly helpless. For the umpteenth time in his extremely long un-life he wished that he could see himself in the mirror. He could put up with drinking blood, with not being able to go out in sunlight ... with, well just anything - except for not being able to see his reflection.
He sighed inwardly. Okay, he was lying to himself. Usually he'd have no problem with the no reflection situation. Usually he'd wake up and just grab the first thing he wanted to wear, moussed his hair and that was it. No problem.
But tonight? Nothing looked right. Absolutely ... nothing. Angel wasn't pedantic, and he usually didn't care all that much about what he was wearing - just as long as he was actually wearing something he was satisfied. But the black shirt, pants and brown leather jacket he had worn today somehow didn't seem dressy enough for a night on the town.
He rummaged his wardrobe again. Why was everything black? Cordelia was always harping at him about wearing too much black, and for the first time he realised that she was right. Everything in his wardrobe was black.
He really didn't want to wear black tonight. It seemed too sombre, too ... depressing. Too dark. He wanted to look nice for Cordy, didn't want her to feel embarrassed about being seen with a serial brooder like him.
He sat back onto the edge of his bed. What the hell was happening to him? This afternoon, things had been fine. Things were good. A lot boring, but good. And then he had to do the stammering thing, and do the ... nearly kissing his best friend thing.
He groaned. There, he had admitted it to himself for the first time since it happened. He had tried to kiss Cordelia - his seer, his best friend ... and she hadn't run away, terrified at his insanity. She had just looked confused. Confused was good, right? Better than outright rejection, at least.
Okay, he had to stop thinking about his Cordy this way. What the hell was the matter with him? Things were great between them now, they were closer than ever. He should just leave things be.
Yes. He should just leave things be. Leave them the way they were, and things will be ... fine.
Feeling like he'd struggled through a major crisis, Angel got up off his bed and quickly scanned his closet for something other than black. There were a few blues, some browns ... some greys. He definitely needed to buy more shirts. Maybe he could get Cordy to pick a few things out for him, seeing as she had such good taste in clothes and she was always telling him to wear more colour.
Angel dragged his wandering mind to the present and concentrated. He needed to find something to wear.
He rummaged around some more and at last pulled out a red silk shirt at the back of the closet. He scrutinised it, noting the myriad of creases where it had been folded untidily and dumped along with the other shirts he hardly ever wore.
He held it up against his chest and felt it's rustling smoothness against his cold, marble smooth skin. It definitely felt good. The shirt had been a present from Cordelia after all his clothes had gone the way of his blown-up apartment; and at the time he had decorously and politely accepted her generosity without telling her that it was probably way too flashy for him to wear in L.A. He hadn't worn anything like it since his Sunnydale days; he had cared much more about the way he looked then. He dug out a pair of newly dry-cleaned pants and a black leather belt. Feeling satisfied, he looked around for an iron - he knew there was one somewhere around.
Ten minutes later, with his hair moussed and with the shirt now carefully ironed, he returned to his room feeling surprisingly upbeat. This felt good ... it really did. He was putting a lot of effort into getting dressed tonight, but strangely it didn't make him feel all that strange. It felt ... good, that he was trying to look nice for someone. For Cordy.
He wished he could double-check his appearance, but he had to be satisfied with a cursory glance down to make sure that his shirt was tucked in properly. He hoped that he wasn't sending any spurious messages to Cordy by wearing Cordy's shirt - it made him look nice, and well ... nice was good. Nice was good for Cordy ... right?
Checking his watch and realising that he would be late if he fussed any longer, Angel ran a last minute hand over his hair to ensure it was properly moussed. He still had some time to get Cordy some flowers. He felt sure that Cordy would like flowers ... maybe a nice bouquet of roses. It would make her feel appreciated, and Angel knew that he didn't get around to telling her how important she was to him enough. Flowers would be good, not romantic at all.
Grabbing his keys, Angel switched off the lights and headed out the door. He hoped that tonight he would be treated to a whole evening of watching his adorable Seer smile. And that would definitely make him happy ... well, as happy as he could be anyway.
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