These characters and their world belong to Joss Whedon and company. I'm just borrowing them. No harm intended and certainly no profit gained.

Summary: Angel has something important to tell Cordelia… Takes place in AtS S3, after Connor returns from the Q'Toth.

Answer to BMCA Challenge listed at the end (otherwise it'll ruin the fun!)


***

"Angel, man, you have GOT to tell her."

Even over the phone, Angel could clearly see the smug grin on her face. For the first time, he was grateful that Faith had been transferred out of the Los Angeles correctional facility where she had been serving her prison sentence. If he had been visiting her in person, he wasn't sure he'd have been able to keep himself from doing something to wipe it off her face.

"Faith, I'm not going to say it again: There is NOTHING for me to tell Cordelia."

"Suuuuuuuure there isn't. You're not saying the words, but I can hear it in your voice. I can hear it every time you say her name." Faith laughed. "Hell, I can hear it when you're talking about fixing the damned plaster on the walls!"

Angel closed his eyes and gave up denying it. "I can't tell her. There's already too much going on in our lives right now. And the Groosalugg *is* in the picture. How would he take it?"

"Hey, don't ask me. I fuck and fight; you're the one who deals with feelings and all that crap. Besides, this is about her, not him."

"Look Faith, you can play the tough girl all you want, but you know as well as I do that this would be a big deal for any woman. With Cordelia, it's going to be that much bigger; we have a history. There's a lot there, and I don't know if it's worth messing with."

"Is it worth letting it eat away at that do-gooder soul of yours?"

Angel changed his mind - he wished he could get his hands on her right about then.

***

Cordelia sneezed as she jabbed at the corners of the ceiling with the dust mop. Of all the rooms in the hotel Angel could have chosen for his son Connor, did he HAVE to choose one that hadn't been opened in twenty years?

"Cordelia…"

Cordelia jumped at the voice. She had known the souled vampire for years, and still was not used to his stealthy moves.

"Geez! Give a girl a coronary why don't you?"

Angel ignored the jibe. "You know, this might be a good time for a break."

"You don't have to tell me twice." Cordelia sat down on the bed, tossing the mop against the wall. Angel sat down on the chair in the corner of the room, fiddling with something on his finger.

"When did you start wearing a ring?" she asked.

"What?" Angel realized he was playing with the claddagh on his right hand. "Oh, well, with Connor back and all, I've been thinking a lot about family and tradition and roots... I mean, going back to one's roots. It just felt right to wear one of these again."

"Oh." The ring looked good on him. Having his son back looked good on him, too. Angel had learned a lot about families over the last couple of years, and the knowledge had changed him for the better. Or so she thought.

"So, um, Cordy... I have something I need to talk with you about."

"Yes?" This was another nice change. When she first started working with him, it was prying a sale out of Tiffany's to get him to tell her anything. They had both learned from the past that good communication was more than a nicety - it was sometimes a matter of life and death.

"Well, it's a kind of a ... sensitive matter."

A sensitive matter? Family… He's wearing his ring... aren't they called 'Irish Wedding Bands' or something? Cordy's heart flip-flopped. Oh my God, that night at the ballet! Is this about that night?

Cordy couldn't help but remember the feeling of Angel's cool hands - surprisingly smooth considering they had been around for more than two centuries - caressing her arms, kneading her shoulders, skimming over her breasts. Her heartbeat quickened. Oh yes, it certainly WAS a sensitive matter.

"I really don't know how to say this. I mean, we have a history..."

And what a history it was. Angel was the one who helped her face up to the ghost of Dennis' mother, who grieved with her over Doyle's death, who followed her to another dimension to bring her back home. He freed Billy to save her from the hex on her visions, bought her huge bottles of pain killers when the visions have her migraines, and trusted her to watch his son. They were co-workers, comrades-in-arms, friends, protectors of each other's souls, almost lovers...

She took a deep breath when she realized that he was still talking and that she hadn't heard I word he'd said.

"...and I've almost lost you once; I don't want to do it again."

Cordy smiled her warmest smile. "You won't lose me, Angel. We've survived the worst that L.A. *and* Pylea have to throw at us; I'm sure we can talk about anything."

Angel gazed at her intently, a bit of a smile playing on his lips as he looked somewhat relieved. Cue the soaring violins in the soundtrack, Cordy thought.

"It's about your hair."

"My… hair?" The strings in her head screeched to a halt. "You want to talk about... my... hair??"

Angel saw the storm clouds gather on her face. "I knew this wasn't a good idea." He got up to leave.

"Oh no you don't buddy!" Cordelia grabbed the dust mop she had been using on cobwebs and leveled it towards Angel like she would a fighting staff. "You take one more step out of this room and I'll show you how well this cheerleader remembers her routines!"

Angel practically froze in the doorway.

"That's better." Cordy glared at him. "Now what about my hair??"

"Well, that's kind of the question." He seemed to be stumbling over the words. "I mean... what, um, prompted the change?"

Cordy's eyes narrowed, "This isn't the first time I've changed it."

Angel flinched at the look in her eyes. "Well, yeah, but-"

"But what? Just cuz I'm part demon are you telling me that I can't change my hair?? This isn't 'Interview with a Vampire' you know." She paused. "Well, not exactly. I mean," she rallied, "why can't I change my hair?"

"I'm not saying you can't. It's just that..."

"-that you don't like it."

Her voice was emotionless. A very bad sign. "I didn't say that," Angel carefully replied.

"No, but you might as well have." She practically hissed the words at him.

It was the hiss that brought him to his senses, calling to mind a challenge issued from one vampire to another. Angel wasn't just any vampire; he was a *master* vampire. Yes, one with a soul, but still a creature that commanded the respect of demons everywhere.

And here he was, allowing a human girl to run roughshod over him just because he dared question her hair!

The betrayal of Wesley's actions, the pain from losing Connor, and the confusion of the return of his now grown son all focused in on the girl in front of him. A flood of emotions rushed into him, fueling his speed. In a blink of an eye he snatched the dust mop from Cordelia, spun it around, and took a 'ready' stance.

Cordy yelped at his sudden movement. "Excuse me, what do you think - "

"I think, Cordelia, that I'm tired of being on the receiving end of attacks by my friends. Now, granted, I can see you weren't that serious; this dust mop is not the most lethal weapon you could have chosen…" He pointedly tapped the plastic handle against the wall.

"Attack? Me? You're the one who came in here and got all close and wanted to talk about serious things and then jumped to the lameass topic of my HAIR!" Cordy shouted at him.

"Considering how much money I've seen you spend on your precious hair and how you berate me if I don't mention a change within a week, I'd say that it is a VERY serious topic to you." His eyes narrowed. "Now what the hell did you do to your gorgeous hair?"

Cordelia glared back at him like a sullen child. "And just what is wrong with it?"

"It's blonde and short and so…" He gestured towards it with business end of the mop.

"Yeah, I know. It really is so *everything.*" She slumped back onto the bed. "This is why I had refused to let Doyle shampoo my hair with beer that one time we were hiding out at his place. I knew it wouldn't work. These damned home remedies are nothing but a hoax!!!"

Confusion splashed cold water on Angel's ire. "The *what* wouldn't work?"

"The hair. I thought the cut and color would fix the mess, but it didn't."

"Mess? It looked fine when you left."

"I may have… well… letGrooputsomethinginmyhair."

Angel blinked. A slow grin broke over his face. "What exactly did he put in your hair?"

"How should I know? It was some Pylean 'formula of the gods' thing. I was complaining about all the damage the sun and sand were doing to my hair, and he offered to help me with some deep conditioning. I guess V05 isn't good enough for him," she grumbled.

Angel stood the mop against the wall and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"My hair was nice and shiny again alright," Cordelia continued. "It was also green! Well, sorta puce. I mean it looked like something Connor might have spit up a couple months ago."

Cordelia looked up at Angel. "It wouldn't wash out, no matter what we did. The only way to fix it was to cut ends, bleach it, and dye the whole thing. And Mexico isn't exactly the Mecca of talented hair stylists, let me tell you."

Angel shook his head. "Why don't you fix it now that you're back in LA?"

Cordy looked affronted. "And admit that Cordelia Chase made a huge fashion mistake? NEVER. If I keep it and walk around proud of it, I'm a trendsetter. Otherwise I'm a loser who let her boyfriend color her hair."

"Cordelia, you're not a loser. You could never be a loser."

She couldn't help smiling a little at his compliment. "But you still don't like the hair, huh?"

Angel shook his head. "No, I really don't like the hair. But I guess I'll get used to it. Uh, what does Groo think of it?"

"Oh you know him - if his princess is happy, he's happy."

"Oh good, cuz I really didn't want to have to fight him again over ANYTHING, much less your hair. Friends?"

"Friends." Cordelia started laughing.

Angel looked confused. "What?" he asked.

"I'm just laughing at how ridiculous this whole thing is. I mean, one minute we're talking about families and how important we are to each other and all that, and the next minute, you're asking about my hair. If I it were anyone but you, it would have led to some melodramatic confession of love or something."

She got up and stretched. "I think I've done enough cleaning in this room. I'm going home to shower and kick back for a night of 'Must See TV.' I'll see you in the morning." With a grin and a swish of the hair, she left.

Angel closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall as she left. He toyed with his claddagh, turned so that the heart faced inward, as his thoughts ran over the events of the last ten minutes. After a conversation like this, there was no way he was going be able to admit to her that he loved her any time soon.


The Challenge:

Write an Angel/Cordelia fic about how Angel REALLY feels about Cordelia's new short blonde hairstyle in Season Three.
Must include:
a) a reference to Doyle
b) Angel's claddagh ring
c) A phone call from Faith
d) Threat of corporal punishment

http://www.geocities.com/binedmca/about.html