Home / Fan Fiction / Angel / Epiphany / Shake Me

Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe of the rights of Joss Whedon, the WB, Mutant Enemy or any other copyright holders of Angel.

Shake Me
by The Brat Queen

Spoilers: Up to Epiphany, after which Joss and I go separate ways.

Rated: PG

Summary: Cordy throws a party. Angel provides fashion tips. Cordy and Gunn show Angel there's more to human relationships than he thinks. And Angel touches Wesley.

"I'm just saying that dead guys don't have to worry about landing themselves in the hospital. So why can't they kick in some extra manpower now and then?"

They were gathered in Cordy's kitchen, having just completed the third of what looked to be at least five trips from Angel's car to Cordy's apartment. Gunn had deposited his latest load - an armful of soda cases - on the kitchen floor and was now looking at Angel expectantly.

Angel spread the pile of party supplies he'd been carrying on the countertop, then shrugged at Gunn. "Because we don't use any of it? I mean it's not like I'm going to be enjoying -" Angel read the label of the first thing in front of him, "Pepperoni flavored cheese spread?"

"It tastes great on crackers," Cordy said, pulling it out of the bag and setting it on the table that she'd put out for chips and other dry foods.

"Sure," Angel said. He turned his attention back to Gunn. "And I am helping."

"I'm not saying you're not," Gunn said. He helped Wesley move one of the folding tables closer to the living room. "I'm just saying you and Dennis could save the rest of us a few years of back pain. And don't give me that 'I don't eat' shit. You may not eat but I seen you drink no problem. Or is somebody else finishing off the coffee before the rest of us get to the office?"

"I refill that," Angel said. "And you're the one who keeps throwing my blood out."

It was Gunn's turn to look offended. "Not my fault that stuff looks like decaf so early in the morning."

"Decaf looks red in your world?"

"Never said I was a morning person."

"Guys," Cordy interrupted, "Ice cream? In the trunk? In Los Angeles? I know the sun's down but it's still warm enough to melt. I don't care if it's Dennis, Angel, or the tooth fairy - could someone please rescue it before it becomes mushy and the guests arrive?"

"I've got it," Angel said, putting down the cans of beer he'd been stacking.

"I'll help," Wesley said. "There's still some supplies left." He gave Gunn a look of mock-puzzlement. "Although does that make one of us the tooth fairy?"

"I ain't touching that with a ten foot pole," Gunn replied. "Not for all the stars in Hollywood. But thanks for the mental image."

"I think Gunn'd look great with wings," Angel pointed out, "Maybe some tights. Little tutu…"

"I am so in a scary mental place right now," Cordy said, holding her hand to her head as though she'd just gotten a vision. "Wes - get your boyfriend out of here."

Gunn looked hurt. "What? You don't think I've got the legs for tights?"

"Actually -" Angel began to speak, but Wesley grabbed him by the arm and dragged him back into the hallway.

"I don't want to hear your answer to that question," Wes said, "and neither does the rest of the free world."

Angel could tell Wes was joking, so he took this in stride. "Hey," he said, nudging Wesley with his elbow. "Cordy said 'boyfriend'. Think she's getting used to this?"

"She does seem to be more accepting," Wes said. He moved over so that he and Angel could walk down the stairs side by side. "I wouldn't want to push it, but I don't think we'd be remiss to take it as a positive sign."

"Good," Angel said. He paused, then added. "Am I really not carrying enough?"

"You're doing fine, Angel," Wes replied. "In fact, I'm rather proud of you."

This threw him. "Proud?"

"Yes," Wes stopped, standing in front of him. "Look at you! You're laughing and making jokes. You're interacting with others. You're allowing yourself to enjoy the day to day things in life. These are all positive steps. You're doing brilliantly."

Angel considered this. "Do you think I should offer to get more ice?"

"I think you should relax," Wesley said, resuming the walk to the car. "You've been more than helpful, and Cordelia and Gunn are both aware of it. Besides you nearly broke the freezer with the bags you bought earlier. What possessed you to buy so much?"

"The beer," Angel answered. Off Wes's look he explained. "Gotta keep it cold."

Wes shook his head in disbelief. "And you're supposed to be Irish."

"I am Irish," Angel said. "At least I was…"

"Yet you drink beer straight from the refrigerator."

"Of course." A thought occurred to Angel. "Hey, Wes - does that bother you?"

Wes looked confused. "That you drink cold beer?"

"No, that I'm Irish."

Angel could tell that in no way had he ended Wes's confusion. "That you're - I'm sorry, could you run that by me again?"

They'd reached the end of the stairs. Angel fished in his pocket for his car keys as they walked down the street to the only parking spot they'd been able to find. "You're British."

"I am," Wes said slowly. "At least last time I checked. But what does that have to do -"

"I'm Irish," Angel said. Again he could see that Wes wasn't following him. "You know? The whole conflict? I was reading about it in the paper the other day and it just occurred to me that maybe - maybe that was a thing. For you."

Wes stopped in his tracks. "A… thing?"

Angel turned to look at him, nodding. "Yeah. I mean - pretty intense. Far as I can tell. Didn't know if maybe that - that bugged you, or something."

Angel could see the wheels turning in Wesley's mind as he tried to think of a response. "You're asking me -"

"Yeah."

"- if the fact that you're Irish -"

"Yeah."

"- and I'm British -"

"Yeah."

"- bothers me?"

Angel reviewed the statement in his head to make sure it said the right thing. Realizing that it did, he nodded. "Yeah."

"Angel," Wes said, tilting his head and squinting at him, "did it ever occur to you that perhaps the greater obstacle for me was the fact that you are a vampire? Having gotten beyond the idea that you were once an evil creature of death, I found it surprisingly easy to come to terms with the possibility that your last name might have been McDougal, Hynes, or O'Connor."

"Ah," Angel said. He nodded. "Good to know. Wanna get that ice cream now?"

"Yes," Wes replied. They started off again, this time with Wes staring at him. "Angel, what on earth -"

"Told you," Angel said, "I read about it in the paper the other day. Reminded me."

"Did you read it for content?" Wes asked. "If anything you should have a - what did you call it?"

"Thing."

"Yes. Thing with me."

Angel flashed Wes a quick look. "Thought I did."

"You know what I mean," Wes said, but Angel could tell he'd liked the comment. "So?"

"What?"

"Does it bother you that I'm British?" Wes asked. He attempted to look severe. "I mean since we're bringing up these ghosts of the past."

"Nah," Angel said. He put the key into the lock of his trunk and popped it open. "I mean there's the whole accent thing, but I've gotten used to it."

Wes blinked. "My accent?"

"Yeah," Angel ducked his head inside of the trunk and pulled forward the remaining groceries and supplies. "It's nothing, really."

"What on earth is wrong with my accent?"

Angel waited a few beats too long before answering. "Nothing. Really." He handed Wes some of the bags. "Don't worry about it."

Wes was about one hair away from being miserable. "Is - is there -"

Angel finally took pity on him, and shut him up with a kiss. "Wes?" he asked, not caring if any of the soon to arrive party goers saw them together like this.

"What?"

"Your accent's adorable."

There was another blink, this time as Wes tried to focus and hear what Angel was saying. "Really?"

Angel grinned, glad Wes had survived the teasing for as long as he did. "Yeah. It's just stronger when you're pissed."

With that Wes finally got it, and rewarded him by smacking him in the chest.

"…so then I had this epiphany and I realized that the only thing that matters is what we do every day." Angel took a swig of his beer, then turned to his companion. "What's death been like for you these days, Dennis?"

A bowl of corn chips moved back and forth on the counter in a so-so motion.

"Yeah, I can see how that would be interesting for you," Angel replied. He looked over the countertop in the direction of the rest of the party-goers. His eye was drawn towards Wes, who was dancing up a storm in the middle of the living room. "Good thing we've got stuff like this to keep us busy."

"Who are you talking to?" Gunn asked, coming into the kitchen and helping himself to a can of beer.

"Dennis," Angel said. He motioned in the direction of the chips.

"Oh," Gunn said. He cracked open his beer, took a sip, then nodded at the chips. "Hey, Dennis. Cool party, huh?"

Again the chips made a so-so motion.

Gunn glanced at Angel. "Yeah, I'd be bored too."

Angel rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair and taking another drink of beer. "Thanks."

"You know," Gunn came over and leaned against the counter, making himself comfortable as he spoke, "just 'cause you're dead doesn't mean you have to be - well, dead. It's a party. Mingle! Talk to people! Smile, once in a while!"

"Now you sound like Wes," Angel said.

"Wes knows what he's talking about," Gunn replied. "Where is he, anyway?"

Before Angel could answer, Cordy appeared. "Hey guys! How's it going?" She went to the refrigerator and got herself a diet soda. "Having fun?"

"Couldn't be better," Gunn said. He toasted her with his beer. "Great party, Cordy."

"Yeah, well," Cordy shrugged. "Two paying clients in a row - seemed like a good time to celebrate." She frowned, noticing Angel. "Angel, what are you doing here?"

Angel raised his eyebrows. "I carried the beer?"

Gunn snorted. "No, you carried the napkins. I carried the beer."

Cordy gave their jokes an obligatory laugh. "Yeah, yeah. No, what I meant was what are you doing here? Wes is in the living room."

Angel nodded. "I know."

"He is?" Gunn asked. He turned to look in that direction. "No wonder I didn't see him out on the patio." Gunn paused, watching Wes for a moment. "Man sure puts his heart into it, don't he?"

"Wes is a real man of many talents," Cordy said. She turned her attention back to Angel. "Why aren't you with him?"

"He's dancing," Angel said. He finished off his beer and tossed the empty can into Cordy's recycling bin.

"So?" Cordy asked. She stepped away from the fridge so someone else could look into it. "Angel - Wes is your date."

"I know that," Angel replied. As though he could have forgotten, in two hours, the fact that he was sleeping with someone. Wasn't sure he'd call Wes a date as such, though…

"So go out there and be date-y!" Cordy said. She gestured with her hands as though she could get him out of his chair and push him into the living room. "Dance with him!"

Angel gave a small laugh. "Cordy - I don't dance."

"You don't?" Gunn asked.

Angel shook his head.

"No, no, no," Cordy spoke up. "You don't sing. Dancing you can do."

"I don't dance," Angel repeated, deciding that the easiest way out of this conversation was to stick with the basics.

"Anyone can dance!" Cordy said. "People in wheelchairs can dance."

"I don't dance."

Cordy put a hand to her forehead. "Lemme try this another way. Angel - you dance now."

Angel smirked. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Cordy said. She pointed towards the living room. "Because Wesley does. Or he likes to think so."

"It's true, man," Gunn said, helping himself to some popcorn.

Angel looked back and forth between them. "I'm not following you."

"People in relationships dance," Gunn said. "Universal fact."

"Thank you!" Cordy said, clearly glad that someone in the room was agreeing with her.

"Guys," Angel said, "I don't dance."

"Doesn't matter," Gunn said. He popped another kernel of corn into his mouth. "Your man wants you out there on the dance floor."

"Wes said he didn't mind."

Given Cordy's look, he might as well have confessed to sleeping with Darla again.

"What?"

"He asked you?"

"Yeah," Angel said. He debated getting himself another beer. "Start of the party. But I told him - "

"You told him no. Oh my God, Angel," Cordy said, incredulous. "Why didn't you have sex with his sister while you were at it?"

The conversation had definitely lapped him somehow. "I - I don't think he has one."

"Not the point," Gunn said. "Wes wanted you to dance with him. You were supposed to say yes."

"But I don't dance."

"Wes doesn't care," Cordy said. "I mean look at him, Angel - great dance technique is obviously not a big priority for him."

"But I -"

"Angel," Cordy interrupted him. "Think about it. Think about it from Wes's point of view."

Angel tried, but still couldn't see what she was getting at. "Wes said it was ok."

"Of course he did," Cordy said, not disputing this in the slightest. "But, Angel - this is Wesley we're talking about. I know we all think he's cute, but let's be honest - how many parties do you think he's gone to?"

"Well he and Virginia went to a few," Angel said, glancing at Gunn for confirmation. "Didn't they?"

"He ain't dating her now," Gunn replied.

"And those were Virginia's parties," Cordy said. "Her turf. All he had to do was wear clean clothes, mind his manners and not look like a big doofus. It's a whole 'nother ball of wax when he's at a party that's supposed to be in honor of the company he runs."

Angel considered this. "Well, yeah, but…"

"Plus it's not like Wesley is a dating machine," Cordy continued. "How many times do you think he's even had the option to bring a someone to a party?"

"I'm here," Angel said, indignant. "I came. With him."

"Wouldn't know it," Gunn said. "You sit in here and Wes looks pretty available to me."

That hit too close to the bone. "You - you don't think -"

Gunn held his hands up innocently. "All I'm saying is it don't look good if you don't dance together."

"Rules of modern dating," Cordy said. "You sleep with someone, ya gotta dance with them."

"Yeah, but…" Angel trailed off, considering. "Look - I know how to sleep with someone."

Thankfully, Gunn understood what he was saying. "Dancing's no different, man. Just do it standing and keep at least half your clothes on."

"Didn't you dance in the old days?" Cordy asked. She gave him an encouraging punch on the shoulder. "You know - pretty, buxom wenches just waiting for you to fill their dance card?"

Angel averted his eyes. "Yeah. Um - see the thing with wenches is - isn't dancing as such -"

"Again," Gunn said, "standing. Half your clothes on."

Angel risked a glance in Wes's direction.

"You can slow dance, right?" Cordy asked. "Do that. Just, you know, faster."

"Why do you care anyway?" Angel asked, looking back at Cordy. "I thought you didn't like me and Wes together in the first place."

"I don't like you becoming the nicest guy to hit town since they arrested Charles Manson," Cordy replied. "But since there's small risk of you getting an ultimate happy while in the middle of a dance floor, my next priority is making sure Wes has a good time."

"Couldn't I just kill a demon in his honor?"

"I'll change the music," Cordy said, ignoring him. "Put in something with a beat even you can follow."

Angel watched as Cordy vanished in the direction of the stereo. "I - I'm not sure about this," he said to Gunn.

Gunn shrugged it off. "You enjoy getting your hands on him. Show him you don't mind doing it in public."

Angel stood, trying to think of anything else he could be doing that would be less painful. Downing a pitcher of Holy Water came pretty high on the list.

"Relax," Gunn said. "If you like him, it'll be fun."

"I do like him," Angel admitted. He heard the music stop, then change as Cordy switched CDs. He shot a warning look at Gunn. "No laughing."

Gunn replied honestly. "I wouldn't. Not about you standing by him."

"Ok," Angel said. He gave himself a once-over. "Do I look all right?"

Gunn considered. "Lose the jacket," he replied. "You're not going to a funeral."

"Could've fooled me," Angel muttered. He stripped his jacket off, revealing the black tank top he wore underneath.

"Lemme hang that up," Gunn said, taking the coat from him. He gave Angel a slap on the back. "You go have fun with your boy."

"Fun. Right." Angel said. Wishing he'd had time to down at least ten more beers, he forced himself to enter the living room.

Wes was dancing as wildly as ever. Oblivious to anything around him, he actually bumped into Angel before seeing him.

"Angel!" Wes said, fixing his now-askew glasses. He looked surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Do you - " Angel started, stopped, caught Cordy giving him an approving look from across the room, and plunged ahead. "Do you want to dance?"

Wes looked puzzled. "I thought I was."

Again Angel looked towards Cordy for fortitude. "I mean with me."

"I - you don't have to," Wes said, quickly covering the first expression that came to his face. "I know you don't care for it."

"Doesn't matter," Angel said, then realized that probably wasn't the best response. "Teach me."

Now Wes looked uncomfortable. Self-consciously, he said "I - I don't know that I could, Angel. I mean one sort of - moves. To music."

Angel listened to the song that Cordy put on. Across the room, Cordy silently tapped her hands together, showing him the beat.

"Really, you don't have to," Wes said. "Why don't we just -"

Angel considered Gunn's advice. "Is this really sex while standing?"

Wes's eyes bugged a little. "Er - I -"

"Slow dancing, but faster?"

"I - I suppose that it could be. But -"

"Ok, I can do that," Angel said. "Follow my lead."

"Angel -"

Ignoring Wes's final protest, Angel stepped forward and put his hands in a classic waltz position. Then, again remembering Gunn's advice, decided the Hell with it and put his hands behind Wes's hips. Reminding himself that the only goal was to touch Wesley, he started to move. He didn't know if he'd gotten the beat, or if they were doing it the correct way, but he decided he didn't care. He knew Wes's body, and he knew how to move it against his own.

Hours later, Wes's arms still around him, Angel figured he must have gotten something right.

-Fin-