Cordelia rubbed her bleary eyes and sighed. While it had been fun catching up with the Scoobies and seeing the changes that had taken place in everyone, she now wished that the night would end sooner rather than later. She had not had enough time to recuperate properly from the earlier vision that had racked her body, and she felt her energy sapping further away as the night wore on. It had been one thing to sit down and have dinner at Buffy's; it was quite another to pretend - all night long - that she was fine and that the headache wasn't slowly getting to her.

She asked herself why she bothered putting up with the charade. It wasn't that she wanted to be a saint or a martyr for Angel - because duh, how grotesque would St. Cordy sound - it was more her stubborn pride that propelled her to keep up the appearance that she was the very picture of health. It was a remnant from her Queen C days and she had been glad that it was still part of her because really, she wouldn't be Cordelia without the stubbornness ... just as she wouldn't be Cordelia without the visions.

"Hey." She sensed, rather than saw, Angel sidle up behind her and wrap his strong arms around her waist in a surreptitious embrace. He had leaned into the crook of her neck slightly and she could feel the exhalations of breath that accompanied every word he gently whispered in her ear. "Just a little longer, then we'll go okay?"

She smiled gratefully, although she was pretty sure that from his position behind her he'd miss it. She briefly considered putting on the brave front she had been putting on all night for the benefit of the others, but she was just too tired now to be anything but truthful. Plus, this was Angel - her Angel - who she could no more fool than if it had been herself. "I'm just so tired."

"I know." He whispered quietly, and tendrils of his unnecessary breathing rippled over her skin. She was acutely aware of his body behind hers, a reassuring weight that somehow anchored her to the reality of the moment, and drawing her attention away from the thousand minute explosions of pain that were ricocheting inside her head. "After we leave, I'm going to drive -"

"- to Vegas?"

"To Vegas, and you're going to have a nice long sleep in the car with the top down and the stars will be shining bright, and if you're really lucky ..."

"What?" She chuckled.

"If you're really lucky I won't sing."

"And then what're we going to do?" She asked, turning her face around.

"We're going to one of those ... "

"... Casinos?"

"Casinos, and we can stay there for a few days and you can play with my money, how does that sound?"

Her eyes shone as she tilted her face up to his, becoming lost in its intense depths. Cordelia's eyes travelled down his angelically sculpted face and suddenly, he was leaning in, closer and closer and for once her mind was stilled, vacuous in anticipation of Angel's sweet kiss. "I think that sounds ... just right."

Their lips met; chaste and hesitant at first and in many ways it felt like their first real kiss, both of them taking time to gently explore each other's mouths. His kiss earlier in the day had been hungry, ferocious and had overloaded her senses so much it had almost incapacitated her ability to respond. But this kiss ... this was pure Angel, his insecurity about their newly revealed feelings for each other potent in every nip, every movement and was so slow and delicious that it seared, rather than overloaded her senses, so that she was able to sense every noticeable tense and release of his jaw, his lips ...

There was noticeable coughing behind them, making them almost spring apart. Cordelia and Angel whirled around to find Xander standing awkwardly behind them at the entrance of the dining room, pretending to be engrossed in a framed painting that hung on one of the walls just next to him. Behind him, Buffy was motionless, standing awkwardly with both hands on a somewhat lopsided chocolate cake, looking simultaneously stunned and uncomfortable. Anya came sideling up to hook an arm around Xander's, her mouth and Dawn's agape with surprise and interest, while Spike coolly lit another cigarette and lounged against the door frame, puffing with detached disinterest.

Cordelia exhaled and laughed lightly, trying to brush away the awkward silence. "I guess the proverbial cat's out of the proverbial bag."

Xander piped up as he walked further into the dining room. "I think the proverbial cat's jumped out of the proverbial bag and has gone a-skipping away from its proverbial litter."

"Cat's don't skip." Anya added helpfully.

"And you people have an unhealthy obsession with cats." Spike drawled.

Before a chorus of 'shut up Spike's could be heard, Buffy hurriedly placed the chocolate cake she had been toting onto the table in front of them and said with a false lightness, "Okay, chocolate cake's ready." She repeated the call loudly to Willow and Tara, who were still ensconced upstairs, and a moment later the clatter of their combined footfalls could be heard.

This effectively drew Xander's attention away. Like a lost ship to a beacon of light, he zeroed in on the cake, which dripped slightly with icing. "Mmmm, chocolate cake." He moaned, much in the style of Homer Simpson. "Full of nutritious chocolately goodness."

Dawn stared at Xander. "I don't think 'nutritious' and 'chocolate' can even be in the same sentence."

Anya's forehead creased in criticism as Willow and Tara arrived, looking hungrily at the cake. "It's lopsided."

"Well," Buffy replied with an injured tone, "I didn't have much time to prepare. And I was distracted." She looked pointedly at Spike, who pretended to not have noticed her stare. "You can still eat it ... it's still full of chocolately goodness. And Angel put some icing on so it might taste a bit different." She blurted out.

Xander's hand froze, his piece of cake already halfway to his mouth. "What?" He looked at the cake as if it had been poisoned, or laced with some horribly debilitating drug. "It doesn't have any blood in it or anything, does it?"

The others were still staring incredulously at Angel, who Cordelia knew, would've blushed if not for the vampire situation. "Oh for goodness sakes." She huffed in exasperation. "Just because a vampire's on a liquid diet doesn't mean he can't cook or anything. Angel's a great cook -" Angel motioned for her to stop, growing steadily embarrassed by the continued staring but she swatted his hand impatiently away, "I mean, his omelettes taste omelette-y, his chocolate fudge brownies taste - oh my god - fudge-y and chocolate-y and his marinara pasta is to die for." She paused. "Well, you know what I mean. And his pancakes -"

"Oh-kay Cordy I think they get the idea." He half-seriously wrapped his arm around her head, using his hand to cover her mouth briefly before being playfully elbowed away by Cordelia.

Spike took his cigarette out of his mouth. "Do you do Buffalo wings too, mate?" he asked curiously. Angel, expecting another string of insults from the bleached vampire was stunned momentarily into silence.

"No."

Spike shrugged his shoulders. "Well you're a boring git then aren't you?"

Dawn elbowed Spike in the ribs and smiled sweetly at Angel. "Well, I'm going to try it." And without further ado, she bit into the cake, chewed ... and stilled.

"Well?" Xander asked.

She resumed chewing, and everyone besides Angel and Cordelia watched on with breathless anticipation. She swallowed - and smiled. "It's delicious." She turned to her sister. "You should try some."

Dawn's endorsement had the effect of a starting gun to an eagerly anticipated race. In an instant Xander had a mouthful of the chocolate cake in his mouth and was nodding his approval to both Buffy and Angel; Buffy was nibbling daintily on the icing and finding herself enjoying her own chocolate cake like she had never before; Tara was smiling and trying to feed Willow a small piece, who still showed some reluctance; Dawn was starting on her second piece of cake and even Spike was tempted by the overtly displayed enthusiasm to put out his cigarette and try some cake. Only Anya didn't try the cake because she didn't like chocolate; chocolate reminded her of easter eggs, which reminded her of bunnies, and they were bad, bad things.

Cordelia whose appetite was inversely influenced by the pain in her head, felt she couldn't possibly down an entire piece of cake - even if it had Angel's delicious icing on it - so she found herself scraping the icing off the surface of the cake and licking it off her fingers. It wasn't the most graceful way she could have imagined eating a piece of cake in front of the Scoobies, but it was all she could manage.

Angel nudged her on the side. "Can't finish it?"

She smiled ruefully. "Sorry. Despite your world famous chocolate icing - you know how much I love it right? I'm not that hungry. If Gunn was here, he'd probably finish the entire cake off, then ask - 'Yo dog, what's for dinner'?"

He chuckled softly. "Yeah." He took the plate from her, his fingers brushing hers gently, sending sparks of electricity coursing through her body. "Let me try some of that."

He reached out with his other hand but Cordelia stopped him. She tore a small piece of the cake from the plate, reached up and held it up to the entrance of his mouth. Angel looked at her quizzically for an instant before his features brightened in understanding, a small laugh escaping from the depths of his throat. He opened his mouth, keeping his dancing eyes trained on hers, while she deposited the cake, icing and all, squarely into his mouth.

She found herself becoming transfixed by the sight of Angel's jaw, as it rhythmically moved up and down, chewing the cake that he could not really taste on account of the small fact that he wasn't human. He didn't need the cake, or any other food, to survive. But here he was, in the company of people, chewing and eating and talking, and trying to not look too much like a pig in front of Buffy or Xander ... fitting in. Or trying to fit in. Being more human than he had ever been while both of them had been in Sunnydale.

And suddenly she realised - that it was real. She and Angel had changed each other, and that change was real. She had become a better person because he had found her when she had most needed his help, had accepted her into his fold even though he had no real use for her at the office. And he? He had become more human, more open and ready to communicate, because she would never take no for an answer and she always exasperated him enough to draw his emotions visibly out, something that he could never have done brooding away by himself.

It was a bit silly to think that eating a piece of cake had served to draw her relationship with Angel into focus. She felt as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes; she realised that the months she had spent convinced that she needed to conceal the truth from Angel about the state of her health had made her lose sight of the true nature of their unique partnership. It boiled down to one simple, irrefutable fact - that for better or worse, they needed each other. They needed each other like toast needed butter, like grass needed water, like ... well, she couldn't really think of anything else. He had needed support when he thought Buffy had died for good, so she had been there for him to talk to or to just sit in companionable silence. She had needed to get away from their hectic L.A lifestyle, so he had taken her on a road trip. When he needed blood, she was always the first to go out to the butcher's and get some for him before he ran out. When the visions made her want to collapse in pain, he was there with painkillers and a cool hand to soothe her throbbing temples. She defended his cooking ability in the face of a disbelieving audience. She couldn't finish her cake, so he ate it for her. It was an endless cycle, from big things like grieving for a friend, to little things like finishing her piece of cake. He helped her and she helped him; he needed her and ... she needed him.

Once the realisation hit her, it was impossible for Cordelia to discount it. Looking up into Angel's intense eyes, as chocolately brown as the last piece of chocolate cake in her hand, she knew that she needed to tell him that she was dying. She needed for him to know, that one day soon, she would no longer to be able to keep his fridge stocked with blood, or to irritate him into conversation, or to make him laugh with her insane and unique Cordelia logic. But most of all ... she needed him. Now, more than ever.

Angel caught the seriousness behind Cordelia's eyes, and gave her a puzzled frown. He caught an inkling of the impending darkness behind her hazel orbs, but little did he know what those expressive orbs were concealing in its watery depths.

 

(c) March 2002