6: True Confessions: I Like It When You . . .

Rain hammered the Hyperion’s tall windows like it had a personal grudge against Los Angeles. Thunder rolled overhead, shaking the old building, and Cordelia had already decided she wasn’t driving home in that mess. She was curled on the red couch in leggings and one of the new cashmere sweaters Angel had bought her, laptop balanced on her knees, glaring at a spreadsheet like it had personally offended her.

Angel appeared from the kitchen carrying two mugs. Steam curled up from the one he handed her — rich, dark hot chocolate with the exact amount of whipped cream she liked and a tiny sprinkle of cinnamon on top.

She took it, sniffed, and immediately narrowed her eyes. “This is pity chocolate.”

Angel sat down beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “It’s cheering-up chocolate. You’ve been staring at that billing screen for twenty minutes without typing a single number.”

“Because some nineteen-year-old with cheekbones the size of Texas got the role I spent three days prepping for,” Cordelia snapped. “And now I’m behind on invoices because I blew off work to practice a monologue about dead parents and lost love. So yes, this is pity chocolate. You’re bribing me with sugar so I’ll stop sulking.”

Angel took a slow sip of his own drink (blood, because of course it was) and didn’t deny it. “Is it working?”

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “A little. Jerk.”

The storm rattled the windows again. Cordelia set the mug down and turned toward him, tucking her feet under her. “Fine. Since we’re apparently doing honesty hour, let’s play a game. I hate it when…”

Angel raised an eyebrow but played along. “I hate it when you leave your coffee mugs all over the lobby like little landmines.”

“I hate it when you brood in the corner like the world’s ending every Tuesday.”

“I hate it when you steal my newspaper before I’ve finished the crossword.”

“I hate it when you disappear for three days without telling anyone where you went.”

The game went back and forth, getting sillier and sharper until Cordelia grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Okay, new round. I secretly love it when…”

Angel’s mouth curved. He didn’t hesitate. “I secretly love it when you boss me around.”

Cordelia blinked, then let out a surprised laugh. “You what?”

“You tell me what to do, where to stand, how to handle a client, and half the time you’re right.” 

His voice dropped, low and honest. “I like it. Makes me feel… grounded. Like someone’s actually in charge and it’s not just me trying not to screw everything up.”

She stared at him, cheeks warming. The rain outside suddenly felt very far away.

“Your turn,” he said quietly.

Cordelia swallowed, then met his eyes. “I secretly love it when you go all protective-vampire on me.”

Angel went very still.

“The growling,” she continued, voice softer now. “The way you step in front of me like nothing’s getting past you. The ‘stay behind me’ voice. It should annoy me — and sometimes it does — but mostly it makes me feel… safe. Like even when everything’s falling apart, you’ve got me.”

The air between them thickened. Angel set his mug down and shifted closer, one arm draping along the back of the couch behind her shoulders. His fingers brushed the edge of her sweater.

“I like the bossy thing too much to stop,” he admitted.

“And I like the protective thing too much to yell at you about it,” she countered, but there was no heat in it.

Thunder cracked again, louder this time, and the lights flickered. Neither of them moved. Cordelia’s hand found its way to his chest, fingers curling lightly into his shirt. Angel’s other hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, lingering against her cheek.

The storm raged outside.

Inside, on the red couch, everything felt warm, charged, and exactly right.

The End.

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