angel and the x-menRated: PG
Posted: July 23, 2000
Spoilers: Not really. Some characters from the X-Men are mentioned, but no plot.
Disclaimer: Standard Joss, Mutant Enemy disclaimer, plus...
The X-Men belong to Marvel comics and 20th Century Fox. Hugh Jackman belongs to Deborra-Lee Furness, lucky lady.
"The seats are narrow, don’t you think?” asked Angel as he re-crossed his legs.“I’m fine,” said Wesley.
“Comfortable here,” said Cordelia.
“Oh,” said Angel as he re-crossed his legs.
“Angel! Stop fidgeting! Here, have some popcorn - suck on it.”
“No... thanks,” said Angel as he re-crossed his legs. “Cordelia, do you mind if I...um...put my arm along here, behind you?”
“Will it make you feel comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Then I don’t mind. Now, are you happy with right leg over left or do you want to try left over right one more time?”
“I’m happy.”
“Both feet flat on the floor?”
“No. This is good.”
“Cordelia, hush, the movie is about to start.”
“Okay, Wesley, I have to get the children settled.”
“Cordelia, I...”
“Angel! Shush! You haven’t drunk all that Coke already, have you?”
“Well I ....”
“Thank heavens there aren’t many people here tonight,” muttered Wesley.
Cordelia had twisted both Wesley and Angel into going to a late night movie. A fantasy action-adventure, they were promised. Neither had been enthusiastic.“If it is boring or silly, we leave,” stipulated Wesley.
“I don’t have a great history with the cinema, Cordelia,” pleaded Angel.
Cordelia sat in the almost empty, darkened theatre, a vampire to her right and a demon slayer to her left.
A fun fantasy, Florrie had said, with a great bod. She had even sent the url’s and attachments to supplement her enthusiasm for this Hugh Jackman guy. Admittedly, the photos had spurred Cordelia into wanting to see the X-Men. Not really the type of movie Cordelia usually enjoyed, but she genuinely thought the two guys would enjoy the action, once she dragged them to the theatre, shoved them into seats and filled their hands with Coke and popcorn.
Cordelia wasn’t prepared for the opening scene, ducking her head to avoid the screen, gripping the arm rest to avoid too ready tears.
“I thought you said this was a fun fantasy?” Angel leant close to whisper in her ear.
“It’s supposed to be!” she whispered back, indignant.
The scene changed and the reasonably early exposure of Wolverine’s hairy chest soon pushed the initial upsetting images to the back of her thoughts.
Cordelia tensed at the first appearance of Wolverine, sitting forward slightly in her seat, eyes following the actor’s every move. He really was very charismatic, she thought, a little hairy but...quite, quite nice.
Angel had been watching Cordelia’s profile intermittently since the opening scene. Initially he was concerned at her distress, now he was bewildered by the growing tension in the slim body. His gaze flickered between the screen and Cordelia. Angel, knowing he would be expected to contribute to any post-movie discussion, made a conscious effort to follow the story-line and observe the characters. Wolverine looked like a larger, hairier version of Oz. Storm was, well, buxom and Mystique was very blue, all over, rather, he thought, like a Haikio spirit without the high-pitched wail.
Cordelia sat, slightly open mouthed and wet lipped. Her eyes glimmered in the reflection from the film. Angel couldn’t help wondering what it was about the hairy man on the screen that was making Cordelia glisten. He looked down at his black shirt and poked a finger in between the buttons and the material at his own smooth chest. Too late, sadly, to try and encourage any growth there.
Angel took another peek at Cordelia’s face. Still glistening.
He wriggled. The expected reprimand didn’t eventuate. He re-crossed his legs - twice. Nothing. Quietly, Angel lifted his arm from where it lay along the back of Cordelia’s seat and secured both hands between his crossed knees. Cordelia didn’t even notice.
The film was moving to some sort of ending. Lots of unfeasible fight sequences, totally unworkable in Angel’s estimation. And how did the film makers expect anyone to believe in all that steel inside the guy’s body? - he wouldn’t be able to move! Simple fore-arm spikes, much more practical.
The lights came up on the near empty cinema. Wesley, chin dropped forward on his chest, lightly sleeping; Angel silently morose and pre-occupied with medieval forms of torture and slow death for mutant wolverines, and Cordelia, enthusiastic.
“Oh wow, isn’t he gorgeous? And they are leaving that wide open for a sequel! You’ll want to see it, right?”
Angel mumbled an ‘of course’ into the glowing eyes before turning his attention back to the Wolverine. The rack and wheel were a good start, but Angel had other, more satisfyingly painful, plans for the hairy mutant.
“Wesley? Wesley! Wake up!” Cordelia prodded her neighbour as he grumbled himself awake. “How could you sleep through all the fighting? You missed some of the best parts! I know! You and I can come and see it again!”
“No, really Cordelia, there’s no need. Not quite my type of film.” Wesley picked up his coat and followed Angel and Cordelia down the aisle.
“I suppose if Emma Thompson had been cast as Storm you’d be here every night, sitting up the back by yourself - in a trench coat!” Cordelia turned to see Wesley’s reaction.
“Nonsense,” Wesley glanced around the small foyer. “Where’s Angel?”
“Right here...oh. He was right here.” Cordelia and Wesley headed for the front door and peered into the street beyond the brightly lit cinema. Angel stood alone on the corner.
“Wesley, was there something in the movie that might have upset him?” Cordelia whispered at Wesley, who indicated his ignorance with a shrug.
“Oh, excuse me Mr Van Winkle, I was forgetting your sleep committments. We had better catch up with Smiley.”
Cordelia kept her gaze on Angel’s back. There was always the possibility he might move away and blend with the night - but he stood quietly, hands thrust deep into his coat pockets. Cordelia could see the outline of his clenched fists pressed against the leather. He looked tense and distinctly not happy.
“Hey there, you okay?”
Angel started guiltily. “Yes, fine. I, er, I needed some... fresh air,” ....and, thought Angel, another few minutes alone to complete the mental flaying and ritual disemboweling of the Wolverine.
“So! Excellent film wasn’t it? That Hugh Jackman is crea-my! Although, I don’t expect you two to be quite as enthusiastic as I am!” Cordelia gave Angel a determined cheery smile, slipped her hand through his arm and propelled him forward. “Come on, Angel.”
Angel gathered up all his heavy, clangy instruments of torture and locked them and the object of Cordelia’s lust and admiration away in one of the numerous dark rooms of his mind. He couldn’t let his thoughts wander with ruthless abandon over revenge and retribution while Cordelia was holding his arm, her body swishing softly against his own as they walked. The ‘determined cheery smile’ was instantly recognisable on her face and in her tone - she was concerned about him. Angel prised his clenched fists apart, ready to make an effort.
“You didn’t like the movie?” asked Cordelia lightly.
“Mmm...not so much I didn’t like it....seemed far fetched to me.”
“That’s what fantasies are Angel, they don’t have to be believable. I thought the super-hero school was really cool.... Wesley? What do you think?” Cordelia glanced up at Wesley, walking on her left.
“Actually I thought the story was rather dull - I mean if you compare the events to our everyday lives.”
“I suppose so. You and Angel, at least, get to see some action nearly every day while I sit at home with a headache.”
“And you too Cordelia,” Angel said with an intense quiet. He had stopped walking, pulled his arm away from Cordelia and moved to face his two companions. “You get to see and hear and smell the same horrors we see and hear and smell and feel everyday. So don’t sit and gloat and drool over some guy in a fancy suit you don’t even know and think he is a hero because he’s not.” Cordelia didn’t get an opportunity to interject. Angel stepped back and began a slow pace up and down the footpath and kept on with his quiet tirade. He had been stewing almost from the moment the Wolverine had appeared, bare-chested and fighting, on the screen, but the mention of Cordelia’s participation in the daily soul-saving had set him off at a tangent.
“Why the hell the Powers can’t just send you a neatly written message...where to go, who to save...I will never understand. Why do they have to inflict you with horrific memories and nightmares and splitting headaches that endanger your life because I offered you a job? Where is the sense Cordelia? I’m the one supposed to be punished! Wouldn’t it be even easier to tell me? Hey Angel, nip on down to Ambrose’s on Brand and save a guy named O’Brien when you have a minute.” Angel remembered his original complaint. “And you sit there and go all glimmery over some wolf of a guy with ridiculous steel blades that probably get him all caught up and who can’t do it any better than we do.” The rant ceased but the slow pace continued.
Cordelia, while becoming accustomed to Angel’s random outbursts of frustration, was unsure whether to address heroes, visions or Hugh Jackman. Wesley had faded into a shadow against a shop wall, an interested observer.
“Angel - we saw a movie - just pretend, like I keep telling you - a fantasy. I don’t really think they were heroes - besides, I know what a real hero is - we have our very own hero, don’t we? The film was for fun, entertainment...well, except for that beginning... and as for Hugh Jackman - I thought he was a cute looking guy who played the part with exceptional talent. That’s all.” Cordelia wasn’t keen on reducing Hugh to ‘cute’ but for the moment the object was to soothe Angel. The cultural correctness, not to mention the personal freedom, of drooling over movie stars would have to be a subject for future discussion. Soothe, then teach.
“Cute? Is that all?” Angel’s last two paces brought him close to Cordelia. “So, you ...admire... the actor?”
“Yes. But, hey, I’m not obsessed with him - if I happened to meet him at a party I wouldn’t try to race him off or anything... immature....I mean I want more than a handsome face and muscley body in my man.” Cordelia ignored the mutters from Wesley in the shadows.
“There’s so much... I don’t know how to deal with,” Angel closed the short distance between himself and Cordelia and taking her hand, tucked it back under his arm. “I think I’m learning.”
“Me too,” she said on a sigh.
Angel looked back over his shoulder into the shadows. “Wesley? You coming?”
“I’m here - just tying my shoelace.” Wesley moved forward to catch up with the two as they resumed their journey down the footpath, but instead of walking on the other side of Cordelia, he maintained an easy distance behind.
“So - do you actually prefer a hairy chested man to a not-quite-so-hairy chested... man?” Angel asked Cordelia with feigned disinterest.
“Hairy? No - yich - the hairs would make my nose all tickly and get in my mouth,” Cordelia screwed up her nose to emphasise her distaste.
“In your mouth?” asked Angel with real interest.
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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.