True Confessions: The Vision I Never Told You About

The Hyperion lobby was unusually quiet. Wesley sat at his desk, glasses perched on his nose, muttering over some ancient text and completely oblivious to anything that wasn’t written in dead languages. The latest client was running late, the others were out on a supply run, and rain from the night before still dripped from the eaves outside.

Cordelia was sprawled sideways on the red couch, flipping through the latest issue of Cosmo. Angel had finished his book twenty minutes ago and was now watching her with mild amusement as she circled answers with a pen.

“Okay, question twelve,” she said, not looking up. “If your partner could read your mind during sex, what’s the one thing you’d be most embarrassed for them to know?”

Angel blinked. “We’re doing that kind of quiz?”

“Shush. Answer the question, broody.”

He sighed, but played along. “Probably how often I think about biting you. Not in a bad way. Just… in a very specific way.”

Cordelia’s pen froze mid-circle. She slowly lifted her head, eyes wide. “Okay, we’re definitely keeping that one between us.”

Angel’s mouth twitched. He was about to say something else when the words slipped out instead.

“You haven’t had a vision in over a week.”

She lowered the magazine. “Are you trying to get out of the quiz?”

“Well—yes,” he admitted. “But also… no. It’s been quiet. Too quiet. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Cordelia tucked the magazine against her chest and studied him. The honesty pact was still in full effect, and she could see the real worry underneath the casual tone.

“It’s not like I control them, you know,” she said. “They just… happen. Or they don’t. Lately they’ve been on some kind of vacation. And before you ask—no, it’s not my fault. I didn’t break them.”

“I know.” Angel shifted closer on the couch, voice dropping so Wesley wouldn’t overhear. “If you had one, you’d tell me. Right?”

She hesitated.

Angel’s eyes narrowed. “Cordy.”

“Okay, fine. Most of the time, yes. But there was this one time…” She glanced at Wesley, who was still lost in his book, then leaned in. “A couple months ago. Right after that whole mess with the Oracles and everything. I had a vision. But it wasn’t about a client or a demon or the end of the world.”

Angel went very still. “What was it about?”

She bit her lip, cheeks flushing. “Us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah. You and me. In the lobby. Late at night. No one else around. And we weren’t exactly… fighting evil.” Her voice dropped even lower. “We were on this couch. You were kissing me like the world was ending and I was letting you. And it felt… real. Like it could actually happen.”

Angel stared at her. For a long moment he didn’t speak. Then the corner of his mouth curved up—flattered, definitely—but his eyes held something else. Something closer to terror.

“You had a vision of us… together,” he said slowly. “And you didn’t tell me.”

“I panicked!” she whispered. “It was the first time a vision ever felt personal. Like it was showing me something I wanted instead of something I had to stop. I didn’t know what to do with that. So I didn’t tell anyone. Especially not you.”

Angel reached out and took the magazine from her hands, setting it aside. His fingers brushed hers and stayed there.

“Flattered,” he murmured. “And slightly terrified.”

“Terrified?” she echoed.

“That it might have been a warning.” His thumb traced the back of her hand. “Or a promise. I’m not sure which one scares me more.”

Cordelia’s breath caught. The air between them thickened the way it always did when they got too close to the truth.

From across the lobby, Wesley cleared his throat without looking up. “The client should be here any minute.”

Neither of them moved.

Angel’s hand slid higher, fingers curving around the back of her neck, thumb brushing her pulse point. The space between their mouths shrank until every cool exhale of his brushed her lips. His eyes had gone dark, hungry and intense, locked on hers like nothing else in the lobby existed.

“Later,” he said, voice low and rough.

Cordelia’s fingers curled into his shirt, heart hammering so hard she was sure he could hear it. “You’d better mean that.”

For one suspended, electric second the entire Hyperion disappeared. The only thing left was the heat between them and the promise hanging in the air like smoke.

Wesley’s chair scraped back.

They pulled apart just enough to look innocent as the client walked in — but the tension didn’t fade. It stayed there, thick and sweet and dangerously close to breaking.

The End.

True Confessions Home Page  |   Site Home Page  |   Next True Confession Story

Kudos & Critiques
Leave a note for Lysa about the story.