a.connor  a.doyle  a.lindsey  a.oz  a.spike  a.wesley  a.xander  a.other  three.somes  het.fic  character.study           
Title: Morning Warm
Author: Te
Rating: PG




And it's an unfocused sort of desire that strikes.

The truth is that Angel sees almost as many days as nights at this point
in his life, one way or another. Sleep is caught rarely, and on the fly, but
that's all right. Because the days are... nice.

He gets things done, he fights evil below ground, and moves through the
thinner shadows.

And there are people.

That fall into neither the avoid nor eat category, and at first it's only
practical. A balm to his conscience to give Cordelia a job, followed by the
pleased shock that she was intensely good at it -- and willing to be
better. And Doyle... Doyle was a seer, and Doyle was *necessary*. Angel
had to be around him, had to learn.

And when Doyle died there was still Cordelia, and then suddenly Wesley,
all grown up. At least in the sense of being utterly stripped of illusions
about the world. Which is always sad to see, if grimly satisfying.

And Wesley was necessary, too, because there's nothing quite like a
trained Watcher, and he was better with weapons than anyone had any
right to expect, and he had something to prove but was old enough not to
strike out foolishly on his own and then there were no more excuses.

Because there were mornings, with eggs, and bacon, and sometimes
pancakes. He likes the way pancakes smell, he hates the bacon aftersmell.
And, for the most part, there are no visions in the mornings, but there is
a Cordelia.

And while there was always another ancient text to decipher, Wesley
rarely brought them to the breakfast table, and while the two of them
were always armed now, no one's ever showed a weapon between taking a
bite and passing the juice.

Angel likes the smell of juice, too.

And often finds himself sitting there while they talk, marveling at the
amount of food Cordelia can and will consume these days -- and the
thought comes that too many brushes with death make everything
important, and yes, that is true. And Wesley smiles, mouth shut. Probably
in case he has food caught in his teeth. And Angel knows he's just sitting
there, with the world's most foolish grin on his face.

And a wanting on the inside, just for more of *this*.

Just this.

-End

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