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anythingdrabbleTitle: Once Again
Fandom: Angel
Characters/Pairings: Lorne, Angel/Cordy, Groo/Cordy
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: They never come for the drinks.
He'd sworn it many times. He knew this wasn't wise, but what was he to do? These people -- Angelcakes especially, and Brown Eyes too to a certain extent -- had been to his home world, still stood beside him, and made sure he'd came back home safely. Pylea was not his home. It had never been a home, not even when he'd been born there and certainly not while he'd been growing up there. But this place, especially his little bar in his little nook and cranny of this insane (but still not as bad as Pylea) world, with its color, laughter, and most of all, its music, in all its wonderful genres, was his home.
They had risked everything to bring him home. Cordelia had even claimed to be risking her heart. The poor dear truly thought she loved the Groosalugg. Lorne knew better. He'd seen the way she watched Angel when no one was looking. He'd heard and felt the way she worried about him, the way she loved him. No matter what the Princess said, he knew she was head over heels for "Dead Boy" as she insisted on calling him when trying so hard not to reveal her true feelings. That, or dumb ass, he thought, with a laughing though silent smirk and a twinkle in his red eyes. The girl had a mouth on her, but her heart was even bigger and had been completely captivated for at least as long as he'd known her by Angelcakes.
Poor Groo was running behind Cordy every day now, trying to act ever more like Angel, but both he and Lorne, and Brown Eyes too if she'd only actually be honest with anyone, knew he would never be able to amount to their hero. Angel himself was oblivious as ever, even with his formidable, and hunky enough themselves, sidekicks becoming wise. Those two's feelings were so obvious to everyone but themselves, but Lorne had promised himself so many times that he would never again play matchmaker to any couple so bloody determined to ignore the facts.
Still, he'd never had friends like these. He brightened as Angel approached and made a sweeping, elegant bow as though all was normal. If they wanted to pretend, he could too -- at least for a while longer. "Welcome, my friends! Mi casa su casa."
"Lorne," Angel was straight to the point, "we need your help."
"Of course, you do, sugar. Nobody ever comes here just for the drinks." He scowled at the red liquid sloshing in his own glass. One day, that help was going to mean calling them both out on their feelings, he knew, but in the meantime, he'd buy as much time as he could. After all, why should he always be the one to have to piss off his friends, and risk losing them, because he had to state what they, in all truth, already knew? They loved each other -- let them figure out deets for a change!
The End
Fandom: Angel
Characters/Pairings: Lorne, Angel/Cordy, Groo/Cordy
Word Count: 500
Rating: PG/K+
Summary: They never come for the drinks.
He'd sworn it many times. He knew this wasn't wise, but what was he to do? These people -- Angelcakes especially, and Brown Eyes too to a certain extent -- had been to his home world, still stood beside him, and made sure he'd came back home safely. Pylea was not his home. It had never been a home, not even when he'd been born there and certainly not while he'd been growing up there. But this place, especially his little bar in his little nook and cranny of this insane (but still not as bad as Pylea) world, with its color, laughter, and most of all, its music, in all its wonderful genres, was his home.
They had risked everything to bring him home. Cordelia had even claimed to be risking her heart. The poor dear truly thought she loved the Groosalugg. Lorne knew better. He'd seen the way she watched Angel when no one was looking. He'd heard and felt the way she worried about him, the way she loved him. No matter what the Princess said, he knew she was head over heels for "Dead Boy" as she insisted on calling him when trying so hard not to reveal her true feelings. That, or dumb ass, he thought, with a laughing though silent smirk and a twinkle in his red eyes. The girl had a mouth on her, but her heart was even bigger and had been completely captivated for at least as long as he'd known her by Angelcakes.
Poor Groo was running behind Cordy every day now, trying to act ever more like Angel, but both he and Lorne, and Brown Eyes too if she'd only actually be honest with anyone, knew he would never be able to amount to their hero. Angel himself was oblivious as ever, even with his formidable, and hunky enough themselves, sidekicks becoming wise. Those two's feelings were so obvious to everyone but themselves, but Lorne had promised himself so many times that he would never again play matchmaker to any couple so bloody determined to ignore the facts.
Still, he'd never had friends like these. He brightened as Angel approached and made a sweeping, elegant bow as though all was normal. If they wanted to pretend, he could too -- at least for a while longer. "Welcome, my friends! Mi casa su casa."
"Lorne," Angel was straight to the point, "we need your help."
"Of course, you do, sugar. Nobody ever comes here just for the drinks." He scowled at the red liquid sloshing in his own glass. One day, that help was going to mean calling them both out on their feelings, he knew, but in the meantime, he'd buy as much time as he could. After all, why should he always be the one to have to piss off his friends, and risk losing them, because he had to state what they, in all truth, already knew? They loved each other -- let them figure out deets for a change!
The End
