Title: "An Invisible Ghost who's Good with the Loofah"
Written for: Still Grrr, the Livejournal Community
Word Count: 2,000
Inspired by Scene: Episode "Waiting in the Wings"; Cordelia's slip about her "action" with a "ghost who's good with the loofah."
Characters in Scene: Wesley, Angel, and Cordelia
Characters in Story: Doyle, Cordelia, Dennis, and Angel
A/N: As a faithful and fervent C/D-shipper, I'm ignoring the spell that allowed her and Groo to get busy and the Cordy/Angel arc entirely LOL
(Wesley is sitting in front of a book open to a woodcut of a demon.)
WESLEY: Honestly, have you ever seen anything lovelier? So - graceful, so full of life. And those eyes... make you feel like you're the only man in the room.
CORDELIA: Plus, six breasts. Any man is gonna love that.
WESLEY: Fred doesn't have six breasts! Right?
CORDELIA: (motions to book) Sorialus the Ravager. And, yeah, she's the one from my vision.
WESLEY: Coming to destroy the humans that killed her mate.
CORDELIA: But not for another month or so. I'll file her under 'pending.' - You're gonna ask her out?
WESLEY: The Ravager?
WESLEY: Oh. Yes. But, you know - timing. I'll make my move when I feel the iron is hot.
CORDELIA: Well, get it done, Johnny Reb. So I can hear about something else, and you can do something else besides feeling your hot iron.
WESLEY: Am I very boring on the subject?
CORDELIA: You know, there was a time when you thought I was the loveliest thing in the world.
WESLEY: Well, I... You're an extraordinary woman. I...
CORDELIA: At ease, soldier. Just like to hear it every now and then. I was the ditziest bitch in Sunnydale, could have had any man I wanted. Now I'm all superhero-y and the best action I can get is an invisible ghost who's good with the loofah.
(Looks up sheepishly, suddenly realizes that was a bit too much information.)
WESLEY: (gets the hint, feigns distraction.) I'm sorry. I missed that last part.
CORDELIA: (grins appreciatively) You are a gentleman.
ANGEL: Who's doing what with the loofah?
(Cordelia and Wesley look up in surprise, not realizing he had been approaching)
WESLEY: Not Loofah, Looh-fah. Nooctm... Skumth. It's a demon.
AN INVISIBLE GHOST WHO'S GOOD WITH THE LOOFAH:
I had been waiting for this moment since I died. And it had certainly taken long enough, damned Powers with their tribunals to reach the obvious verdict that I had fulfilled my atonement.
You're likely thinking the same as I did: 'No shit, Sherlock', yeah? I mean, I sacrificed myself to save hundreds of people from that dangling Christmas ornament from hell. Not to mention the thousands Angel would save on account of him not being burnt to a crisp (which, as ya can imagine, felt a hell of a lot worse than it looked).
While the Powers hashed out my fate, I sat alone in the never-ending marble corridor waiting to hear my judgment. I must confess I was worrying a bit that they'd penalize me. Some stern faced higher being would march out any moment, wag a disapproving finger, and say they were on to me, that my sacrifice wasn't quite as noble as it seemed.
'Why?' you might be asking yourself. It's simple. Ya can't hide your motivations from the Powers That Be. They'd weighed my soul (literally, had a glowing scale and everything) and that included the parts which had only died to save one person.
And now you're saying, 'ohhh…' Yeah, ya see the dilemma.
Maybe that's what held things up. Whilst the majority of me wanted to do the right thing, there was that tiny bit of selfishness in the mix. A part of me said, 'come on, don't screw this up. Ya got another chance to save her, to show her you're more than a drunken gambler half-demon she happens to (astonishingly) fancy going out with.'
Anyway, as I sat alone, worrying over my fate, I was struck with the most fantastic daydream of Cordelia I'd ever had – which is saying a lot. I spent the better part of every day fantasizing about her. Surprisingly, there was no sex involved. Even still, there was something about this fantasy that made it better than the rest, something tangible…
She and I were together in the shower, I was kneeling in front of her, biting my lip as I worked a loofah over her skin. Her little moans and mews made keeping my hands steady nearly impossible. I stood, getting ready to kiss her soft, full lips…
And, of course, that was when the Powers called me back inside. Even with the weakness amidst my heroics, they decided to let me go. I could choose whatever path I wished; be it through the blinding portal to eternal bliss or back to the world of the living. Best of all, I earned a pass to come and go as I pleased. See? There are perks to dying in a brutal, heroic manner, after all.
I didn't think twice about where I was heading. There was only one thing I wanted to see, her face held a great deal more appeal to me than heaven. I figured the office; she'd likely be there and as an added bonus I could see my best friend, tall-dead-and-brooding.
When I opened my eyes and saw the ruins, I panicked. If it were possible for a ghost to have a heart attack, I'd surely have had one. There had been an explosion. Try as I might, I couldn't convince myself that the dentist in the office above ours had been the target of an anti-root-canal terrorist faction. I groaned, wondering if Angel had gotten himself burnt extra-crispy regardless of me saving him from it once.
Cordelia's desk was there, charred and buried beneath collapsed beams. I'm not usually one to pray, but I'll admit, I prayed like an altar boy then; prayed that she had been somewhere else when this happened. I closed my eyes, held the breath I no longer needed, and focused all my will on her. Wherever she was, that's where I wanted to go.
That decision proved brilliant. I looked around at the change in scenery, smiling in relief. I was in her apartment. I could hear her humming in the shower and my non-existent pulse raced.
Taking an eager step toward the bathroom, I paused at the purposeful throat clearing behind me. Frowning, I turned slowly to find a fella lounging on her couch.
"Hey, Doyle," He greeted warmly.
My brows drew together before it occurred to me. I nodded in recognition as I approached. "Ah, Phantom Dennis, I presume?"
"Only if we're calling you 'Doyle the friendly ghost'," He teased as we shook hands.
"Right…sorry. Guess it's taking some getting used to – fitting into the category of the dearly departed and all that," I said apologetically, my eyes wandering back to the direction of Cordelia's humming.
"Even after two years?" He laughed.
"Two years?" I repeated in disbelief. "Damn! I should've known time would move differently."
"Well, it's a shame she can't see you." He sighed. "She…had a tough time after you died."
"Makes two of us," I breathed. "But she's been doing all right, yeah? Still the feisty li'l princess?" I asked hopefully.
"Mostly," he said reluctantly.
"What's 'mostly' mean?" I demanded. Seeing his hesitation, I gave my most determined Cordelia-like scowl.
"She was…I don't want to say 'seeing' a guy because they never…" He trailed off and I nodded, keen on skipping the completion of that sentence. "But he left a few weeks ago so she's a little down. Apparently they couldn't…without him taking her…your…visions."
Wow, my princess had changed. I was thrilled. Not only was she proud enough of what I'd given her that she refused to lose it, but the visions had prevented what was undoubtedly a loser from having his way with her. I grinned. Those visions were like a mental chastity belt.
"Great, listen, d'ya think ya could…?" I began before realizing he couldn't leave.
"Watch the game? Sure." He offered, cranking the volume.
"Good man." I commended and took off to reach her.
As silently as possible, I crept into the bathroom. Hearing her humming put a smile on my face. It had been entirely too long since I'd heard that voice.
Pushing the curtain aside would've been the happiest moment in my life, were I still alive. First thing I noticed, I swear, was that she had cut her hair. It only reached the nape of her neck. After that, well, ya can't blame a guy for enjoying the rest of the view. However tough her life had been since I'd gone, it sure as hell did not show in her figure. I sighed blissfully watching the water cascading over her skin, meticulously cataloging every beauty mark I discovered.
I stood there, enthralled, for a good fifteen minutes as she washed her hair and lathered every inch of her magnificent body. I didn't blink once. Not that I needed to, I just usually still did it out of habit.
When she looked my direction, I jumped a bit. I thought for sure she could see me, would start in on me for being a pervy ghost and I'd endure an hour of verbal abuse. I was overjoyed at the prospect, hearing her heckling was a dearly missed daily routine.
Unfortunately, she only stared at the emptiness her eyes perceived…and the way the curtain was held aside by an invisible force.
"Umm…Dennis…?" She asked, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. "Not that I didn't appreciate the little loofah scrub a few months back…but let's not make it a regular occurrence."
I was torn between celebration that she had felt the 'little loofah scrub' and exasperation at her assumption that it had been Dennis. Deciding I wanted full credit for my actions, I huffed indignantly, letting go of the curtain and stomping out into her bedroom to find a way to tell her I was the one being a peeping-Tom.
"Oookaayy…" She laughed from the shower.
I rifled through her drawers for a pen…marker…eyeliner…anything to scrawl a message. When my hands gripped something that might work better, I grinned.
Turning on my heel, I raced back into the bathroom, yanking the curtain aside.
"What the hell?" She cried. "Are you trying to freak me out? Cause it's working! And why do you have the TV blasting? Didn't we agree…?"
She trailed off as I held up her pajama top. She studied it, shaking her head and refusing to consider what was being conveyed.
"You barge in on me…in the shower…and want me to cover up?"
I groaned, lowering the shirt and shaking my head, which was stupid since she couldn't see it. So I did the next best thing, I reached out and held her chin, shaking her head for myself and laughing as her brow arched so high it nearly touched her hairline.
"You…don't want me to cover up?" She asked apprehensively. "Then what…?" She demanded.
Good grief, if she was sexy throwing me an attitude while fully clothed, there needed to be a new word invented for her then. I held the shirt up again, this time taking her hand in mine and making her trace the word on its front.
"Princess…" She whispered. "Dennis?" She asked weakly.
I shook her head again.
"You're not Dennis…then…you're…?" Her mouth moved uselessly, trying to get the name out as I waited patiently. "Doyle…?"
I grinned and chucked the shirt over my shoulder, nodding her head for myself.
She barely got through squealing, "Oh my God!" before I was climbing into the shower, pulling her into arms she might not be able to see, but she could sure as hell feel. I kissed her so hard I worried I might break something but she didn't mind a bit, was kissing me back just as forcefully.
She tasted every bit as good as I remembered, though I was eagerly adding new flavors to the palette with every breath that fell from her trembling lips. Her jaw, her throat, the nape of her neck, her breasts, her stomach, her thighs…and dear, sweet, merciful…
It's a good thing she's such impeccable balance, not many people can stand in the position I put her in as long as she did.
Sounds a strange reunion, I know. If it had been anyone else in that moment, they'd have been concerned about being ravaged by a ghost. Not my princess, though. She was taking me however she could get me. I smiled up at her as my mouth continued the torture, finding that she was squeezing her eyes closed just as tight as she could. She was imagining me, letting her mind fill in the blanks.
She tangled her fingers in my hair, urging me closer. I wondered what I felt like for her…my tongue, my hair, all of me…whether I was cold. Whatever I felt like, her screams of my name attested that it wasn't unpleasant.
Dennis turned the volume up higher on the TV.
With her eyes still closed, she pulled me to my feet, pressing me against the tiles and peeling off clothes she couldn't see. That balance of hers paid off again. She planted a foot on the side of the tub and with one swift movement (announced by both our cries of pleasure) we were in business.
The next few hours involved more sex than I'd have endured while I was alive, I can tell ya that. I'm one lucky bastard, benefitted more than words can express for her hardly getting any male companionship between the sheets in two years.
It was a week before she went to work and told Angel about me. He fought a smirk, I give him credit for the effort; saying it was a good thing I'd shown up to 'look after her' while she was 'too sick to get out of bed'.
So yeah, I'm back. Not that they can see or hear me…though princess informs me she's close to finding a spell to change that.
Oh, and as she tells it now, I'm good with a hell of a lot more than just the loofah ;)
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