Rating: PG
Summary: Cordelia, Angel and a confined space
Distribution: Nothing Fancy, By Sun and Candlelight
Notes: Secret Valentine Fic. C.C. wanted a C/A fluff-fic set sometime in season 1 to 3 of BtVS.
Forget timelines or canon, this just happens.
My C/A cupboard is bare and consequently this fic is very short. Please accept my apologies.
Feedback: If you are up to it.
Dedication: To C.C. Hope you have a great Valentine's, chook!

* * *

The darkness was immediate and thick and confining.

The silence settled with the dust.

Angel grimaced as an elbow attempted to burrow up into his nostril.

“Sorry, Angel.”

“Shhh.”

“I’m trying to get comfortable and don’t shhh me in my mmmph…”

“Shhh.”

Cordelia clawed at the rigid wrist attached to the hand clamping her mouth closed.

“Ummph.”

“Okay, okay, but whisper.”

“I was whispering! How can anyone - any thing - hear us through this mile of stone?”

“Just in case. Please.”

“Yes, yes, but I can only wait an hour. I’ve got something on tonight.”

“Sure. I’ll just burst through this immovable lid and tell the Aznai to move on ‘cause Cordelia Chase has a place to be.”

“Well, heck. I didn’t ask to get stuck in this tomb. Why couldn’t Buffy help?”

“She was… she was busy.”

“Huh? Busy doing what? Sharpening stakes?”

“Doing her hair.”

“What?“

“Shhh. She’s getting ready for a Valentine’s dinner with me tonight and I didn’t want to mess her around with this stuff.”

“Great! What about me and my Valentine’s date? That doesn’t matter? It’s only Cordy?”

“You didn’t say you were busy - so I thought…”

“You thought Cordelia Chase would be sitting at home waiting for a call to kill demons on Valentine’s Day?”

Angel let out a low ‘oomph’ as an indignant elbow suddenly dug into his stomach. He grabbed at the flailing arm and pulled the girl’s body down closer to his chest.

“Lie still. Shhh. Lie still.”

“As if there’s anything else to do in here! Lying on top of someone isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Want to swap places?”

“No way. Geesh, couldn’t you have found us a bigger tomb?”

“Well, there was one over in the corner, but I thought the occupants might object.”

“Oh, yuck. Hey - Angel? There’s no one else in here is there? You’re not lying on top of someone? Oh god, a Cordelia Angel Unknown Decaying Dead Person sandwich? I am so not that kinky!”

“Would it help if I introduced you?”

“Ohgodohgodohgodoh…”

“Cordelia, relax, there’s no-one else here. Check for yourself.”

Cordelia inched her hands down between solid cold stone and solid cool Angel hips.

“If I touch bone, you are dust.”

She found a gravelly cold stone floor. And a sticky wet patch.

“Angel?”

“Yes?”

“You’ve been eating honey in here, haven’t you?”

“What? Honey?”

“Because I found something sticky and honey is the most comfortable thought at the moment.”

“Oh. Blood. Might have been that booby-trap barb on the way in. I think I picked up one or two.”

“Great. I‘ll see if I can find the hole.”

“There’s no need, Cordelia…”

But Cordelia ignored him and rolled to her left. She yanked at Angel’s shirt, pulling part of the tail from his pants. Her fingers slid under the material and over Angel’s stomach, finally stopping at a ragged, tacky hole in his side.

“Found it. Um, have you been working out?”

“Huh? No, Cordelia…”

“I’d better check in case there are any other gaping wounds.”

“No, really, there’s no point…”

Cordelia’s fingers began to dance over Angel’s ribs, tugging at buttons.

“…no point. Even if you do find another… scratch, there’s no bandages anyway.”

“Well I could rip off your, I mean I could rip up your shirt and use that.”

The fingertips lightly skimmed over a terrified nipple.

“No, look, Cordelia, no… tell me about your date. For tonight. With Xander? Xander and Valentine‘s, who‘d have thought… but hey. Dress, what dress are you wearing?”

“If we ever get out of this tight hole you mean?”

“Tight hole. God.”

“Angel?”

“Huh? Yes of course we’ll get out. Xander and Buffy will wonder why we don’t turn up and come looking for us! No problem. So, back to your dress.”

“Green. Long. Transparent. Sorta like on one of those Roman statues. What about you?”

“Me? Oh, black. Pants. Shirt. Duster.”

“Nice change. Can’t wait to see it!”

“Yeah, well. Dark, broody. It’s expected.”

“Oh, tell me about it. Expectations. I always have to look beautiful. But do people realise how much work goes into natural beauty?”

“Um, no. Is there?”

“Yeah… hey, can you move that leg a bit to the right?”

“Better? Wait… don’t wriggle, Cordelia.”

“I’m not, it’s you.”

“I am not wriggling. Why don’t you go to sleep?”

“Fall asleep on top of a guy? I am not naïve, Angel.”

“What?”

“I go to sleep and accidentally your hands wander all over my unresisting body? Actually, come to think of it, I am a little tired.”

“No, no - we’d better just wait - and talk.”

“What about?”

“We’ll pretend we’re having dinner. Tonight.”

“Hang on - there’s no way I’m pretending to be Buffy!”

“I didn’t mean… hell, you think I want to be that boy? Shit. What do you want to eat this evening?”

“Oh. Okay. So we can talk food and you’ll get all hungry and then I’m stuck in this tiny no-place-to-go tomb with a ravenous vampire?”

“Sleep is sounding good again.”

“Yeah. As long as I know where your hands are, Angel.”

“Right here, on your back. Okay? Hey, careful with the knee.”

Cordelia made a small pillow of her hands and snuggled into Angel’s chest.

“Happy Valentine’s Cordelia.”

“Mmmm. You too.”

Buffy and Xander, three hours later, levered the heavy lid to reveal a sleeping, bare-chested Angel underneath a lightly snoring Cordelia on the narrow floor of the tomb, limbs gently entwined.

Now, if they had an ounce of charity between them, Buffy and Xander would have lowered the lid and left the two until morning. Don’t you think?

Disclaimer: The characters are Joss Whedon's, Mutant Enemy's and probably a heap of other people about whom I know nothing.
I lay no claim to ownership of the characters, I simply like to ask them out to play now and then.