Unreasonable Circumstances

~ OMG this is keelywolfe's fault.

"Am I dreaming?"

Wesley and Angel turned their heads slowly towards her. Cordelia blinked again, tilted her head slightly -- because sometimes reality *would* just shift enough that that would make it all right again.

But the image before her didn't change one iota. Well, maybe one iota; maybe a hundred iotas. She didn't know how big an iota was, and it was possible they were too small to see change.

Wesley was blinking at her in a very Britishly-ruffled manner which said that in two more seconds he would start stammering out a perfectly reasonable explanation. She held up her hand to stop him. It made him sound way more like Giles than she cared to think about, because she never had figured out which of them she had had a secret crush on, even if Wesley had been the one she'd gone after. He'd been the available one, at the time.

Right now she was hoping it had been Giles.

Angel lowered the twinkie from his mouth and made a face.

"Thank god!" Cordelia walked the rest of the way into Angel's basement-cum-living room. "For a second there I thought you were going to say you *liked* those things." She wrinkled her nose at him. "If you're going to start eating junk food, you have to eat donuts. Do not *ever* tell anyone from Sunnydale I said so."

"Cordelia, so nice to see you," Wesley said, sounding proper and formal and just exactly like he wasn't sitting on the arm of Angel's couch, dressed like a pirate. Complete with pegleg.

"You two are coming to a play with me this Friday," she told them, getting back to the reason she'd come down here in the first place. She looked from Wesley to Angel. "But I have to approve your outfits, first."

"I think I'm capable of dressing for the theater," Wesley objected. His hand went to the red satin sash hanging over his shoulder. "Current appearances notwithstanding."

She shook her head. "Nope. You'll dress up in a tuxedo and look excellent, then stop here on your way to my place and Angel's fashion vibes will soak into you and you'll both show up wearing velour lounge suits. No. On Thursday I will come by your place and pick out your suit and take it home with me. Same for you," she told Angel, who was trying to act like he wasn't wondering if he could suck the creamy filling from the twinkie with his fangs.

"Cordelia, I think--"

"I'll keep your clothes safe," she continued, knowing Angel couldn't possibly be saying anything other than a totally useless assertion that he could dress himself. For the theater -- she did admit he had a great thing going for club-hopping. Or evil-fighting, but there was none of that on her agenda for Friday. "You two will arrive at my apartment on Friday at exactly three o'clock to get dressed."

"When is the play?" Wesley was frowning, slightly.

"It starts at eight -- no, don't even. Three o'clock. There will be dinner involved, and parking."

"I shudder to think which will take the bulk of our time." Wesley was smiling, now, which meant she'd won them over.

"Why are we going to see a play? What play is it, anyway?"

Cordelia looked at Angel with utter disbelief. "What do *either* of those questions have to do with anything?"

"Um... in case we don't want to go?" Angel glanced at Wesley, then back at Cordelia. She just waited. Angel looked at Wesley again, obviously crying out for help.

They both just waited.

Finally, Angel's eyes widened and he said, "Which doesn't matter because of course we're going to the theater with you, Cordelia."

She walked over and patted his knee. "Good answer. Now, I have shopping to do, because I do *not* have any shoes for Friday. I'm going to leave now, and you two are required to wait until I am *out* of the building before that sash goes back around Angel's wrists."

Cordelia actually made it all the way to the stairs before Angel asked, "How did she know?"

Cordelia knew Wesley was rolling his eyes; she was doing the same thing, herself. "Because, Angel, the only time you *ever* eat twinkies is when you've been a bad boy."

She could imagine Wesley giving Angel that stern headmaster -- well, pirate captain -- look, and Angel was probably gulping down the twinkie. She was well out of hearing range before they could get to the part where Wesley found a reason to bring out that whip he'd tried to hide behind the couch.

She smiled, and wondered if she should go find a play that was showing this Friday, and actually make them dress up in tuxedos, and escort her.