How Hard Could It Be?

Part One of the ‘If Without You, Not At All’ series

By Thursday’s Child

Spoilers: To Shanshu in LA

Category: A/C, Angst, Friendship (Angel, however is having definitely naughty thoughts;)

Summary: Three weeks after the season finale. Angel’s watching Cordy sleep and thinking deep thoughts. He’s not too happy with the prophecy that Wesley found in the scroll. You know, the one where he gets to live, *after* the PTB’s are through with him….

Rating: PG. Not for long, kiddies…Thursday’s mind isn’t all access for the young ‘uns, there’s no adult supervision…

Disclaimer: Angel, Cordelia and Wesley are property of Joss Whedon, the wonderful people at the WB and numerous others whom I know nothing about. I simply couldn’t help but write for them. Sue me if you like, I don’t mind, I like it;)

Feedback: Yes Please!!! Give me my fix because37@hotmail.com Seriously, I love to write, but it seems pointless to post it if no one’s reading. So, if you enjoy my work and want more, let me know. My work is a lot better and gets done quicker if I know people want it!

Author’s Corner: I know this one is short, but I’ve got a few more up my sleeves, so you have a lot of ficcage coming your way! Look out! I hope to have it up by next Wednesday! Also, I promise these will end happy, I have a bad reputation for letting readers down at the end of the fic…I’m outta that phase, I swear…promise…no really, I mean it!

Now, as they say in The Business, (though why it’s the business and, oh, say, Chauffeuring isn’t, I’ll never know) the show must go on…

How Hard Could It Be?

“What’s the worst way to start a day?”

“Well, if you have a frog for breakfast, your day can only go downhill.”

“If a rabid animal were living in your basement, what would you do?”

“What??? What sort or question is that?”

“Answer and you might find out…”

“Alright, I’d either feed it, or starve it.”

He sighed, then asked, “If you could give any advice to the youth of today, what would it be?”

“If I answer, will you let me go back to sleep?”

“I just want to pick your brain…”

“You don’t want in my brain, there’s no adult supervision.” She groaned, flopping onto her back. “So, if I answer, you gonna leave me alone?”

“Ahhh, maybe. You’ll never know if you don’t answer.”

“You’re a vicious bastard. I liked you better when you were brooding. Okay, my advice, ‘never eat soup with a fork.’ Okay? Goodnight.”

Angel laughed, deciding it was probably better to let her be than to engage her further. He could do that another evening. Instead, he sunk back into his chair, smiling again as invisible hands tucked the covers around her form. “Thanks, Dennis.” She muttered.

A few minutes later, Cordelia was sleeping soundlessly, curled into herself, covers up to her chin. She looked rather childish when she slept, unlike her drop-dead appearance during the waking hours. Her long hair fanned out over the pillows, trailing over the edge of the bed. Angel’s eyes followed it to where it brushed the floor, he wanted to feel it, silk flowing through his hands. Instead, he moved his attention to her face again. Dark lashes resting against her tanned skin(he wanted to taste it), narrow nose slightly wrinkled in happiness(he wanted to kiss it), full lips quirking at the corners(he wanted to ravish them)…how could he ever find that cute? She was just as gorgeous now as ever, despite her open face and closed form.

‘I love you.’ How difficult could it be to say the words out loud? How hard could it be to whisper them to her? How impossible would it be for her to return them? How wonderful could it be to kiss her, to loose himself in her? It would be perfect…perfect happiness.

Her body unfolded and stretched, then rolled to the opposite side of the bed, a tangle of sheets and hair following her. She muttered something unintelligible, then rolled a bit more, burying her face into the pillow. Angel couldn’t help but smile. This time, he did touch her, brushing her hair out of her face so he could see her profile smashed into the silky pillow casing. She swiped at his hand, remaining asleep. His smiled broadened.

Angel ran a finger over her bare arm and she twitched, a disoriented hand smacking him. His laughter was threatening to break out as she flipped onto her back and tossed an arm over her eyes. His fingers danced over her collarbone and neck, tickling their way to her chin. “Angel!” She groaned, opening her eyes blearily, her body flopping around sluggishly. “Go away!” She muttered, in a childish whine. God damnit…She was sexy even now, her face screwed up in confusion and aggravation. Completely, undeniably sexy. Angel did laugh now, leaving her bedroom as she growled lightly and fell back to sleep. “Bastard.” He heard her whisper, half-dreaming.

The night was sweltering hot, mid-June in LA. A slight breeze didn’t help much, instead, it seemed to add to the discomfort. Angel looked out over his city, lights twinkling in almost every building-despite the fact that it was four a.m. *This* was the city that never slept. These were the people who were more disconnected from each other than Angel had ever been. It was sad, unfair.

And, it was discouraging. Three weeks since Wesley had discovered his future. Three weeks since he learned he would live. After serving his penance, proving his heroism, doing his good deeds, he would live. Live, not in the undead since, but Live! Breath, walk in the sunlight. Make love, eat food, grow old. So many things he could experience. Cordelia and Wesley were thrilled, of course. This was good news! No, it wasn’t.

The vampire didn’t want it. It was unfair. Because, those three weeks held so much more. Three weeks, during which he had shared Cordelia’s apartment, searching for his own. Three weeks, growing closer to her than he had ever felt possible. Oh, he was madly in love with her before, but now, he knew he could love no one else. Enduring her endless girlie quizzes from Cosmo and Teen, frequent Mint Chocolate Girl Scout Cookie Ice Cream runs, fighting over who got the first shower of the morning, and, ye Gods!, buying her tampons! Not to mention the deep talks that he had managed to wrangle out of her by waking her at odd hours with absurd questions. And she would answer him, sometimes with one word and sometimes with a husky soliloquy. She was brilliant either way, offering insight he’d never thought of. Another reason to love her. Buffy could never have stimulated his brain like Cordelia did. She had it all, beauty, brains and the most awesome capacity to love.

So, what did it mean to live if he were to do it without her? How long would it take him to please the Gods? How much did they expect of him? Would he be free fifty years from now, watching the last of his loved ones being put in the ground? Or, in a few hundred years, when everything he held dear was no more than faulty documentation? Thousands of years from now, when the world was in ruins, void of all life, and unlife, then would it be time? Then, when there was nothing left to fight, could he be free? There would be no Cordelia…that was all he needed to know. Therefore, there was no point in it.

‘I won’t do it.’ He screamed within his mind, directing his thought to the so-called ‘Powers that Be.’ ‘I won’t do it! If you take her away, I won’t do it!’

“Angel?” Her voice was soft, sleepy, confused. “What’s wrong?” She asked, joining him on her balcony.

He shook his head and instead of responding, took her arm and pulled her into a hug. Everything was okay now. The darkness, despair, it didn’t matter, cause he felt her arms go around him. Her head settled under his chin and he could smell her hair, patchouli and cinnamon. A contradiction, just like she was. A contradiction that he loved and needed more than anything else. More than blood. More than Buffy. And certainly, more than he needed the ‘life’ that the fates were intent to give him. ‘I won’t do.’ He thought again, with more vehemence. ‘The day she’s put in the ground is the day my ashes cover it.’

She burrowed into his arms, relishing in the cool embrace, so different from the humid world around them. “Come back inside, Angel. I woke up and you weren’t there.” She smiled sheepishly up at him. Then, she puffed up her lips, giving him her best pout and knowing it would work. “I missed you.”

He groaned. “Please, Cordy, I’ll come back in. Just stop that, and promise never to do it again.” He’d rather not dwell on that look and those full lips that he could put to better use than a pout.

Cordelia giggled, swatting his arm. “Come on. I’m tired. I still have at least three hours of beauty sleep left.”

“You don’t need it.” Her breath caught, but she covered it well enough by laughing it off. Angel, for his part couldn’t believe he’d let it slip. He sighed, it was becoming harder each day to stay in the same apartment as she. Knowing he’d have to leave, because if he didn’t, things would never be the same. That he was attached to her like he’d never been to another human being. His undead life was tied to hers now. Nothing could separate them. Not even the powers that be…