What Happens in Vegas. . .Stays in Vegas?


AUTHOR: JENAY (aka Jill)
SUMMARY: After a night that both cannot remember, Angel and Cordelia find themselves hitched! In Vegas, no less.
RATING: PG13
POSTED: 20 Oct 2004
CATEGORY: Romance / Humor
CONTENT/PAIRING: C/A
WARNINGS: None Listed
FICPIC CREDIT: N/A
AUTHOR NOTES:
1) Went to Vegas, was inspired, hence the ficlet.


Soft, moist kisses on her cheek, trailing down her body. The man of her dreams was making sweet love to her. Slow, sensational thrusts were in sync to the beat of her heart. Sweat beaded down his forehead as she arched up and licked it off, just wanted to taste him again. Moans, almost silent guilty gasps of pleasure escaped her as his tussled brown locks intertwined with her fingers. This was the dream that she never wanted to awaken from.

Tossing about in the king-sized bed, Cordelia felt the smile creep upon her face, remembering her sultry and steamy dream. Too bad it wasn’t real, she thought as she squinted her eyes to the blinding light seeping through the sheer curtain of the Pink Suite of the Flamingo in Las Vegas. Lorne had drug them along for his special one night only encore concert tonight and none on them were kicking and screaming about it.

Tonight was his concert and last night at his rehearsal, she remembered getting her own private serenade from all four guys. All by the fact that alcohol and Gunn’s special martini mix were in the formula, but never the less, she got her boys to sing. Gunn with his rap medley, Wesley with his old English ballad that sounded more like an Indian hymn, Lorne with his classic beauty serenade and Angel with his, what else, classic Manilow song. Hands down, Lorne won the Angel Investigations Idol last night.

Cordelia let herself smile just a little more as she twisted in the bed, fully turning onto her left side and running into something of the non-moveable and male form. Her smile quickly faded as she realized that her dream hadn’t been a dream at all. But in her dream, the man was Angel. She prayed to whoever was up there listening that it wasn’t him; that when she opened her eyes, if she chose to do so, that it wasn’t him.

Please don’t be Angel, Please don’t be Angel, Please don’t be Angel.

Opening her eyes even so slowly, she peeked to see the tussled brown hair, the bare chest staring her in the face and the arm sliding up to pull her nearer to him. She didn’t think twice as she grabbed the sheet with her and hopped out of the bed, exposing Angel, full frontal in every respect.

“Oh my God!” She screamed and started to pace the floor as the full frontal Angel finally managed to open his own eyes. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…” Cordelia kept rambling looking around the suite for anything to protect herself from what she feared was Angelus. Sure, the witch, the sister, the reverend, and the shaman all said that permanent soul thing was legit, but she was so sure that they were all full of crap.

Maybe this thing was a phony, she wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t about to take any chances, just in case. Bible. Every hotel or mostly every hotel in America had them. Reaching into the nightstand, she held the navy blue book with heavily bold gold writing on it close to her, wondering how and why this happened. She watched as Angel reached for another pillow on the enormous bed, cuddling it in comfort.

“Come on, wake up already.” Cordelia mumbled, flashing a string of light onto the bed and watched as Angel flung off the bed faster than Superman and his supposedly faster than a speeding bullet power. “Finally.”

“Cordy, what the hell was that? And why are you holding a Bible?”

“Hello, you covered in nothing, me in sheet with nothing under it. Bible protects me from you.”

“Why the hell do you need to be protected from me?”

“Because you’re…you’re…you’re Angel aren’t you?” She realized. Well, looks like the mojo guys were right.

“Yes, I’m Angel. Who else would I be?” Angel grasped the pillow closer to his body as he realized his fantasy dream, like hers, was not a fantasy ay all. “What happened?”

“Give him a prize Johnny, he just asked the million dollar question.” She added sarcastically, flinging the navy blue holy book onto the bed and brushing back her bed –head brunette hair out of her face, letting the light flicker upon a sliver on her left hand.

“What’s that?” Angel pointed to her hand as she lifted it in front of her, studying it intently.

“What did we do?” Cordelia stared at the tiny silver band encircling her left ring finger and her eyes diverted over to the other side of the bed, pointing at Angel’s hand as he slipped into his pants that looked to have been torn off of him the previous night. He lifted his hand up to view a matching silver band encompassing his left ring finger as well.

“Oh, this is bad, this is bad, this is bad…” Cordelia mumbled, frantically pacing the floor, trying to think of how they could have done this other than being totally drunk, but she didn’t have a hangover and apparently, he didn’t either. “I know. We won’t leave. We can stay here. Right here in the room and never come out.” She pointed out.

“What? Why?”

“Hello, we have this littler problem, well two problems called a Fred and a Lorne! How can we hide this when I can’t even get the damn thing off my hand!”

“Quiet down.” Angel insisted, walking towards her slowly and passing by the dresser with their signed, sealed and approved marriage license. He tried to reach for her but she backed away, falling upon the bed. Flashing back to the night before, or rather earlier this morning, he remembered her in that same position only enticing him with her tongue moistening her lips and her eyes undressing him as he crawled up the bed with her.

“Are you hungry?” He quickly changed the subject. “We can order room service. And maybe, if we mention that we’re newlyweds…”

“We are not newlyweds! And if you even think of mentioning that one more time, consider yourself staked.”

“The bed, license, and these things seem to differ.” Angel flashed his hand, letting the silver catch her eye. Angel picked up the hotel’s menu and started to see what they had to offer when he thought of the whole situation. Vegas wasn’t the best idea to him but hey, they needed to celebrate him receiving his permanent soul and Lorne having the concert here was like killing two birds with one stone. Cordelia was his wife. His wife.

It sure made it a whole lot easier than romancing her and spending a gazillion dollars to get to this point, but she’d probably get that fixed as soon as they got back to LA or even before they left Vegas. He had seen her peeking in some of the Forum Shops across the street at Caesar’s Palace. Cordelia was his wife. He didn’t know how it happened or why it happened in Vegas, all he knew was that he was happy and he didn’t care if the entire world knew, in fact, he wanted them to know. But just thinking of how much that would cost him, he vetoed that idea of a balloon trip around the world fast. He was Mr…Angel, well more importantly she was Mrs. Cordelia Angel.

“ANGEL!”

“What?”

“Snap out of it and help me figure out what to do here!”

“Do what?”

“Oh, let’s see, get dressed, get un-married, and try and hide this little thing called marriage from Lorne!”

“Why?”

“Oh, don’t you pull that ‘why’ crap on me. We both know that we’re not going to be able to hide this from them!”

“Why do you want to hide it?”

“…” Cordelia opened her mouth but didn’t say a word. Why did she want to hide it? Somehow, it didn’t seem real. Sure, since getting his permanent soul, Angel had seemed more appealing, appetizing, scrumptious and just down right sexy but Cordelia thought that if, if she had suggested that they should go out, he would turn her down. This wasn’t any other guy where she could flaunt all her attributes in his face, this was Angel. The Angel that knew her better than her own parents did.

Married to Angel. She was married to Angel. She knew why she wanted to hide it, she knew that with all the heartache and agony that dating was, she still wanted to go through it. She wanted the dates, the sweaty palms, the nervousness, the up to three a.m. talking about nothing. She wanted the special dates, the anniversary presents for only dating one day, a week, a mid-month. Cordelia looked up at Angel and then down at very thing band on her finger.

Thin, very thin, but pretty, she thought as a small smile came upon her face. She remembered him slipping the band on her finger. The matching bands had been the most expensive but also the prettiest and that was the sole reason why she picked them out. She looked back up at Angel then, her eyebrow tilted in a different direction than before.

“Why don’t we remember anything?”

Angel knelt down in front of her as she clutched tighter to the sheet. He placed his hand over hers and her grip loosened. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it all before.

“Why don’t we remember anything, Angel?” She repeated, a wondering expression emerging on her face.

“I don’t know. Effects of the champagne?” He suggested motioning over to the small eating area where a bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes remained along with a ceramic plate with crumbs reminiscent of the dessert they shared. The dessert, the tiramisu, which led them to the bed.

“Maybe, but I don’t have a hangover and me plus champagne equals tipsy turvy Cordy.”

“I know. I remember.” Angel smiled at her, recalling the last time she had gotten drunk and tipsy turvy was not the phrase to describe her. “Do you want to be…un-married?”

“Uh,…” Cordelia once again was at a loss for words and literally froze at the questions. She liked the fact, well she was getting used to the fact that she was Mrs. Cordelia Angel but she missed all the fun parts of dating Angel. Why did he have to ask the hard questions? Cordelia brushed back her hair again, wanting it off of her face to think about her answer and to admire the silver ring on her finger.

“I understand if you do, I mean, I know I’m not exactly your idea of husband material.” Angel said, even though anyone would and could compare to her David-Nabbit-Husband-Material-Scale she had tacked under the calendar on her desk.

“No.”

“No, what?” Angel twisted his head around and came back to her side, taking a seat next to her on the fluffy, messed up bed.

“No.” Cordelia twisted the silver band around her finger, seeing Angel freak as she did. She started to pull it off her finger again, knowing she would fail and let it fall to the base of her finger. She looked over at him pasting on a smile for keeps.

“It’s not coming off so we might as well…”

“Might as well? That’s not the confident answer I was looking for Cordelia.” Angel retorted, dipping his head down and looking over at her hand, noting how beautiful that bad set on her finger. He didn’t want her to take it off. Ever.

“Oh Angel, stop being a baby.” Cordelia turned to him, capturing her lips with his. She kissed him with a passion, encircling her tongue across the back of his teeth, arousing him even more. Oh yes, they were going to have some explaining to do, he thought as she pulled him closer and started to pull him back on the bed. Suddenly breaking away wasn’t what he expected though.

“Just tell me that we weren’t married by Elvis?”

* * *

The announcement came over the loud speaker, nearly blasting out their ear drums to the arrival of one of their best friends who not only was one of the best singers in the world but also one of the happiest, especially tonight.

“And now ladies and gentleman, The Flamingo is proud to present….Lorne!”

The claps came even louder as Angel, Cordelia, Fred, Wesley and Gunn clapped along with them. With a bright flashy blue suit, Lorne came out on stage and unlike every other time, didn’t burst into song. No, instead he was talking. Angel let Cordelia sit back down first, pushing in the chair as a good husband-boyfriend-gentleman would do and sat down next to her, raising his arm and placing it upon the back of her chair, wanting everyone to know that she was his.

“Thank you, thank you.” Lorne said as the clapping hands died down. “No, keep clapping. I have to keep up appearances in this town ya know.”

The audience laughed and clapped again as Lorne signaled the conductor of his miniature orchestra to start an introduction to a ballad.

“Now this…this is one of my favorite tunes and tonight it’s special because, well, let me tell you a funny story…you see there were these two people, who were so stubborn that four little mice had to drug them to spend anytime together. But even that didn’t work, so the four mice brought them to Vegas, where they were forced to spend time together and…well as we all find out: what happens in Vegas doesn’t always stay in Vegas. So,” Lorne reached for a glass of champagne that was lying on the edge of the stage and raised it up towards their darkly lit corner and the spotlight blinded them.

“Mr. Liam and Mrs. Cordelia Angel, this is for you. Congratulations.” Lorne took a swig of the champagne and set it down, pulling the microphone back up to his lips again.

“Unforgettable…” His melody ran throughout the auditorium, the audience with their full attention spans directed towards the man with green paint on his face, or so they thought. Angel looked over at Cordelia, smiling and loving the face that someone else said it aloud for him to fully take in. Mr. Liam and Mrs. Cordelia Angel. Lorne was right: What happens in Vegas downs’ always stay in Vegas; well at least not this time.

 


…THE END…


 

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