Yes, that's right, this is an Eric and Angela story. In attempting to write my Cory/Angela story Stumbling into Fate (which I haven't forgotten about, I just have very severe writer's block on a couple chapters) all that was coming to me was this story. Apparently my brain decided that working during the day, going to school at night, doing family stuff, and having one story wasn't enough. No, I need two to work on. I actually have several chapters of this story written already, so updates should come once a week.

It takes place several years after the finale, everything that happened on the show happened. Angela went to Europe with her father and Cory, Topanga, Eric, and Shawn went to New York. (As always, no copyright infringement intended. Suing me is pointless, I'm a poor college student working a part time to support her family.)

Angela buried her head in the pillow, trying to block out the sun that was cruelly stealing her sleep. There was a small voice nagging at her to open her eyes, telling her that something was off with her current situation, but other than the sun in her face, she was too comfortable to move. At least until she realized she was not alone. The weight shifted on the other side of the bed and before she knew it, someone was nuzzling into the nape of her neck. She gasped and sat up, turning to face who was in her bed.


He mumbled incoherently while trying to steal her pillow. He barely even opened his eyes.

"Eric? Eric, wake up!" She slapped his arm.

"Ow!" He looked up at Angela. "What is your problem?"

"What's my problem," she repeated, feeling the effects of last night the longer she remained upright. "What are you doing in my bed? And where are your clothes?"

He sighed and sat up. "Have you even looked around the room? You're at my place, Angie. And as for clothes," he smiled slightly, reclining against the headboard, "you seem to have lost yours, too."

"Oh, my god," she quickly pulled the green sheet that had been around her waist up over her breasts. "What did we do last night?"

"Please, don't tell me you were too drunk to know what you were doing. You said you weren't too drunk," he insisted. "You swore it." He hated the thought that he may have taken advantage of Angela in a drunken state.

"Eric, relax." She closed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose between her right thumb and index finger, the events of last night rushing back to her in a haze of music, alcohol, and familiarity. He was a surprisingly good kisser. "I remember everything."

"Then why the hell did you freak out and wake me up?"

Angela laid back down, hoping to hold off the slight nausea that was starting to churn in her stomach. "Why did I freak out? I was disoriented. I forgot where I was, you startled me." She took a deep breath. "It's only Saturday, right?"



They stayed there for a few minutes, silent. Eric looked down at Angela and remembered last night with a smile. She had asked him to take her out to a club for some dancing and to meet some of his friends. She wanted to celebrate her return to Philadelphia and he was the only person left that she knew. They were having a good time until his ex-girlfriend showed up.

"Eric," Angela turned to face him, "do you have Tylenol, and maybe some coffee?"

"The Tylenol is in the bathroom cabinet. I'll make you coffee." He searched the floor for his boxers before getting out of bed. "Here's your dress," he said, setting the sparkly blue garment in her lap. He realized a moment later the dress may not be the most comfortable thing to put on first thing in the morning. "If you want something else to change into, there are some clothes that may fit you in the spare bedroom."

"You keep women's clothing in your guest bedroom?"

"They're Morgan's," he stated, rolling his eyes. "Sometimes when she butts heads with our parents I let her stay here for a day or two."

"I can't imagine anyone butting heads with your parents. They're great."

"Yeah, but Morgan just turned 18 and they're her parents, try to remember how you were with your dad when you were 18."

"My dad was overseas for a lot of my teen years. That's why you guys didn't get to meet him until we were all in college."

Eric didn't know how to respond to that. "How about I get your coffee? I might have bagels, too."

Angela smiled, grateful he didn't try to press any conversation about her father. "Sounds great."

While Eric was getting breakfast, Angela went to the spare bedroom to grab some clothes. Given the amount of things Morgan had here, Angela guessed she stayed with her big brother quite often. Angela grabbed a pair of gray sweats and a pink T-shirt. She also took a hair band off the dresser, certain Morgan wouldn't miss one, and went into the bathroom to get dressed. A few minutes later she came into the kitchen and found Eric getting bagels together on a plate.

"I used some of your mouth wash."

"That's fine," he shrugged. "It'll cost you $1.25, but, it's fine."


He chuckled. "I'm kidding. What happened to your sense of humor?"

"It's non-existent without coffee and when I have a hangover."

He slid a mug across the counter. "Did you find the Tylenol?"

"Yes, thanks."

"Do you want cream cheese or butter on your bagel?"

She debated momentarily, trying to decide what her stomach could handle. "Butter." She stirred some sugar into her coffee. "You know, we do have to talk about last night."

"I know. I'm just trying to get some food in you before you puke. You were starting to look a little green back there."

"I don't know why, I didn't think I drank that much last night. Maybe it was the two orange kisses? I've never been able to hold my vodka very well." Angela took a large sip of coffee and promptly spit it back out. "Oh, my god!"

"Can't hold your coffee either?" Eric frowned. "Is it too hot?"

"That is the worst coffee I've ever had in my life," Angela exclaimed. "I mean, I'm sorry, but what the hell did you do to it?"

"Add water to the mix and stir, just like the packet said."

"It's instant?"

"Yeah, I gave up coffee a couple years ago. I keep instant around for guests. Didn't realize you were a coffee snob," he teased.

Angela grabbed some paper towels to clean up the mess she made. "I'm not, it's just..."

"Oh, come on," he interrupted, "if I spent years traipsing around Europe I'd become a coffee snob, too. Well, let's be honest, in my case I would become a chocolate snob."

"Oh, the chocolate," she sighed, dreamily. "I haven't even thought about the chocolate since I came back."

"Well, I don't think I can be friends with you if you're going to forget something as important as chocolate," he huffed.

She giggled and pushed the mug aside. "Have you tried that instant crap you give your guests?"

"Nope," Eric shook his head. "And based on your reaction, I'm not going to."

"Oh, yes, you are. You're going to see how awful this stuff is."

He raised his eye brows. "Who's going to make me? You?"

"You don't think I could," she challenged.

"Not really."

"I did beat you up once."


"Me, Rachel, and Topanga against you and Jack for the apartment. Remember?"

"Well, that was hardly a fair fight."

"It still counts." Angela shoved the mug at him. "Now drink!"


Eric moved around the counter to the other side of the kitchen, in front of the sink. Angela was right behind him, mug in hand.

"You move pretty quickly for someone who was whining about her hangover a few minutes ago," he smiled.

"You're not doing too badly yourself." Angela put her free hand on the edge of the sink behind him, effectively trapping Eric. She held the mug up to his lips. "Come on, just a little...," she paused, suddenly realizing how close they were. "Just a little taste."

"Angela," he closed his eyes.

"Yeah," she whispered.

"I think...," Eric shuddered involuntarily as she closed the distance between them. Perhaps he should've put on some more clothes this morning. "I think we need to talk about last night before we do anything else."

"That would be the smart thing to do." Angela couldn't seem to stop herself, however. She stood on her toes and kissed him, smiling at the way his stubble tickled her cheek. Moving her hand to the back of his head, she deepened the kiss. The rational voice in Eric's head knew he should put a stop to this, knew they really needed to talk, but there was only so much temptation a man could take. Memories of last night were racing back. He ran his fingers along her rib cage, wanting to see if she really was as ticklish as he remembered last night. His knees almost buckled when she squirmed, pressing him into the counter. Eric trailed kisses along her jaw, down the side of her neck, wherever he could reach.

He wrapped his arms around Angela, lifting her off the ground to bring her closer. For Angela, it seemed her feet leaving the ground was the wake-up call she needed. "Eric, wait," she panted in between kisses, " were right." She groaned, both with pleasure and frustration, when he bit her bottom lip. "We need to talk."

Eric set her down abruptly and held her at arm's length. "Okay, if we're going to talk, we should really talk." He ran a hand through his hair, annoyed with himself for getting carried away. "You know what, give me the coffee."


"The crappy coffee you tried to get me to drink, give it to me."

Angela looked at the mug in her hand. She had forgotten she was even holding it. Honestly, she was surprised she hadn't dropped it. "Why?"

"If it's really as bad as you say it is, maybe it will kill the mood." He grabbed the cup from her and took a giant gulp. "God, that's terrible," he gagged.

"I told you," she smiled softly.

"Why would people drink that?"

"They want to be nice to you?"

"No one deserves that nice." He took another drink and shook his head. "This is terrible."

Before either one of them could say anything else, they were interrupted by a cell phone ringing.

"I think that's mine," Angela said. "Where did I leave my purse," she asked, trying to follow the ring through the apartment. She found it in the middle of the living room floor. "Hello? Yes, this is Angela Moore. Okay...okay. Yes, 11:30 will be fine. No, it's okay, I understand. Thank you for calling. Good-bye." She set her phone on the coffee table. "That was the Philadelphia Inquirer calling to reschedule my interview. The editor doesn't want to miss his kid's school...," Angela turned realized she was talking her to herself. She could hear the shower running.

Grabbing her plate from the counter, Angela took her forgotten bagel into the living room and sat on the couch. How on earth did she and Eric get into this situation? Was it something as simple as loneliness? He was still dealing with a break up and she was, well, she was on her own. Again.