Prompt 136: Ficlet
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still_grrrTitle being normal (means you don't have fangs)
Author definexfreedom (Kayla)
Rating PG? There is a ridiculously non-explicit reference to sex, but it's almost nothing, so.
Word Count 501
Prompt 136 (angel: cordy's houseparty)
Characters/Pairing (if any) Angel, implication of possible Angel/Cordelia.
A/N: My first Angel fanfiction (or Jossverse fanfiction, for that matter), so I apologize in advance for how much better it ought to be. I apologize if I've done anything wrong--anyway, this sprung to mind and I couldn't get it out.
Was everything supposed to be this loud?
Were there supposed to be so many people here?
Were these people supposed to look at him and ask him to dance like they expected him to say yes?
He would have been perfectly content keeping to the shadows (true, occasionally that meant running into half-naked people in what could only be described as an extreme version of PDA, but as long as they had no interest in him), as far as possible from people and their expectations—people who thought that normal conversations entailed life stories and interrogations all rolled into one, people who needed enthusiastic responses to follow their every word.
Unfortunately, he had Cordelia Chase to contend with. Whenever he drifted nearer to the shadows, she was suddenly in front him, pushing him back (sometimes literally) into the fray. For God’s sake, he was a vampire and he couldn’t do that. She was there to offer him advice about how to talk to women, about how to approach dating propositions, about how to have fun and how he should let loose a little. Seconds later, she’d be rushing off because some big Hollywood name had stepped into her building and wasn’t that just incredible and how could it be that Angel didn’t know who he was because he was the most amazing director in the history of ever and what was wrong with him?
In this precious alone time, Angel would foolishly mislead himself into hopeful scenarios. Maybe Cordelia would chat with the director for twenty minutes and he’d finally have the chance to—but then she’d be there again with her smile. It was a wonder she’d ever used it for evil; it was so bright and open and a little overwhelming. And maybe it was no wonder that she’d been the “queen” of Sunnydale High—because, sure, she had money, but then there was that smile. It made everything blur just a little bit, just at the edges. (Made you forget, just for a second.)
So he would shrug his shoulders and try his best to smile back, like of course he was having fun even if Hell had never been quite this painful. People underestimated the power of humiliation.
He would stumble through a few more awkward conversations, pretend that he had nowhere else he’d rather be, and try to act normal. Wasn’t normal supposed to be easier when people couldn’t see your fangs?
And then Cordelia would see him and roll her eyes because could he make it any more obvious that he wasn’t having fun? He might as well be wearing a neon sign that screamed back the hell off, I’d rather be out killing people than talking to you (or so Cordy told him later, which he thought was a bit of an unfair overstatement because he’d been there and he’d said words, right?)
And then Cordelia would smile.
The woman standing beside Angel took his smile as an invitation. It wasn’t (meant for her).
Author definexfreedom (Kayla)
Rating PG? There is a ridiculously non-explicit reference to sex, but it's almost nothing, so.
Word Count 501
Prompt 136 (angel: cordy's houseparty)
Characters/Pairing (if any) Angel, implication of possible Angel/Cordelia.
A/N: My first Angel fanfiction (or Jossverse fanfiction, for that matter), so I apologize in advance for how much better it ought to be. I apologize if I've done anything wrong--anyway, this sprung to mind and I couldn't get it out.
Was everything supposed to be this loud?
Were there supposed to be so many people here?
Were these people supposed to look at him and ask him to dance like they expected him to say yes?
He would have been perfectly content keeping to the shadows (true, occasionally that meant running into half-naked people in what could only be described as an extreme version of PDA, but as long as they had no interest in him), as far as possible from people and their expectations—people who thought that normal conversations entailed life stories and interrogations all rolled into one, people who needed enthusiastic responses to follow their every word.
Unfortunately, he had Cordelia Chase to contend with. Whenever he drifted nearer to the shadows, she was suddenly in front him, pushing him back (sometimes literally) into the fray. For God’s sake, he was a vampire and he couldn’t do that. She was there to offer him advice about how to talk to women, about how to approach dating propositions, about how to have fun and how he should let loose a little. Seconds later, she’d be rushing off because some big Hollywood name had stepped into her building and wasn’t that just incredible and how could it be that Angel didn’t know who he was because he was the most amazing director in the history of ever and what was wrong with him?
In this precious alone time, Angel would foolishly mislead himself into hopeful scenarios. Maybe Cordelia would chat with the director for twenty minutes and he’d finally have the chance to—but then she’d be there again with her smile. It was a wonder she’d ever used it for evil; it was so bright and open and a little overwhelming. And maybe it was no wonder that she’d been the “queen” of Sunnydale High—because, sure, she had money, but then there was that smile. It made everything blur just a little bit, just at the edges. (Made you forget, just for a second.)
So he would shrug his shoulders and try his best to smile back, like of course he was having fun even if Hell had never been quite this painful. People underestimated the power of humiliation.
He would stumble through a few more awkward conversations, pretend that he had nowhere else he’d rather be, and try to act normal. Wasn’t normal supposed to be easier when people couldn’t see your fangs?
And then Cordelia would see him and roll her eyes because could he make it any more obvious that he wasn’t having fun? He might as well be wearing a neon sign that screamed back the hell off, I’d rather be out killing people than talking to you (or so Cordy told him later, which he thought was a bit of an unfair overstatement because he’d been there and he’d said words, right?)
And then Cordelia would smile.
The woman standing beside Angel took his smile as an invitation. It wasn’t (meant for her).
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Date: 2009-09-24 02:17 am (UTC)Hee! Nice!
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