Author's Notes: The lyrics at the beginning and end of the fic belong to Norah Jones, in her song "I've Got to See You Again." No copyright infringement is intended. Angel and related characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Again, no copyright infringement is intended.
This is my first Angel-fic. It's set during and after that infamously ill-timed peek in the window. I'd like some crit --- I know it deserves crit. Feedback, positive or negative, would rock the casbah so hard...heh. Thanks for reading!
I can't help myself, I've got to see you again...I thought seeing her would make me feel better. That, you know, I should check up on her and Connor. I mean, my son and one of my best friends, living together. It's natural that I want them both to be safe and warm and have enough food.
So, yeah, that's why I went. Yep. It wasn't to tell Cordy "the truth" about us, or anything of that sort. I wanted to make sure they were all right.
Well, they were all right. They were so all right they decided to celebrate being all right by making like rabbits and doing the nasty. Something kept me there. Super-special magic glue of the mind, that's what it was.
No, it wasn't. It was my sick desire to punish myself yet again for what I've done. And my wish to scare the fuck out of the little bitch and her fucktoy.
...Actually, I think at that point, my wish was to bite the fuck out of them. Hey, vampire over here. Still got the urges.
The sick part was, it made me... It made me...ready.
I fantasised about her, while she was with my son.
Call Freud, I think we have a winner for the Most Fucked Up In The Head competition.
Cordy saw me. She had to. When Connor was through and lay on the bed, she looked out the window.
I happened to be looking in (it's the superglue of the mind, I tell you), and we just... saw each other.
I don't think I'd be more than fifty percent delusional to say she whispered my name.
And I'd have to explain. Not so keen on that.
Sonofabitch soul. If I were Angelus right now, I'd go over there and KILL THE FUCK out of the little mongrels. Breathe, Angel. Breathe --- oh, that's right, I don't have to.
Sun's trying to decide if coming up would be a good idea. I should go in. Ever noticed there's this one part of you that's always punishing yourself? Like you make yourself do more work or something for taking the last donut .
Well, I think I'm like that, but magnified. I don't think I should sing around the hotel for a few days. Lorne might try to bake me comfort cookies. When he tried that on Wes, he burnt the kitchen. We carefully explained that the smoke alarm was not a timer, and he promised to not do it again. I don't want to find out if he remembered.
That fucking espresso machine is going out the window today. Wes and Fred prefer tea, and Gunn just drinks regular coffee.
Normal-person coffee. Coffee that doesn't require a $300 machine and special milk that foams "just so."
Cordelia's not normal, though. She's special as hell and I love her for it. Still. Just like I still love Connor.
Wes is looking at me funny. I guess he stayed here all night again. Wrapped up in his work, him. He should get out more. Nice looking guy, not bad at --- I did not just think that.
I need sleep. I'll make my good morning's and excuses with Wes and slip upstairs.
Why Connor? He's worse than Groosalugg. At least he was of age. Oh, so's Connor. I hear Quor'toth's nice this time of year.
I wonder if he'd like to go and visit for a few millennia until he wrinkles and dies. Bet she wouldn't take him then.
Sorry, vampire again.
Bad Angel, bad.
I can't help myself, I've got to see you again...