Author: Kat Lee
Character/Pairing: Angel/Cordelia, Gunn, Wes, mentions of Gunn/Fred, Wes/Cordy, and Wes/Fred
Challenge/Prompt: anythingdrabble 60: Costume and sunnydalescribe DC 7: Masquerade
Word Count: 523
Date Written: 4 November 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
She entered the room, and every man therein stopped what they were doing and looked up in gaping awe. She smirked as Wesley swiped his glasses off of his startled, wide-eyed face and swiftly started cleaning their lenses, a method she had seen Buffy’s Watcher use a thousand times growing up.
Gunn chuckled. “Easy there, Wes. You might break ‘em.” Looking back at Cordelia, he let out a long, low whistle. “Girl, you are every fanboy’s dream!”
“Let’s hope the producers think that,” she said, grinning. “I knew I could pull the Princess Leia look off after Pylea.”
“Yeah, that Princess outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination either,” Gunn agreed.
Angel, who had been staring wordlessly at Cordelia the whole time, finally found his voice. His first syllable came out as a squeak, so he coughed and tried again. “You’re going like that to the . . . to the masquerade ball?”
Cordelia gracefully lifted a bare shoulder in a shrug. “Why not? Not that you would know, Angel, but this is a classic costume bound to get their attention. Carrie Fisher was one of the first kickass leading ladies. She turned Hollywood on its ear. Now,” she smiled brilliantly up at him, “it’s my turn, and if they see me and connect me in their little minds to Fisher, well, all the better.” And all the easier to get the juicy roles she needed and deserved. No more commercials for her, thank you very much!
“Of course I do need an escort. No proper Princess is without one in today’s age, especially not when it’s so hard to tell which of these sleazy producers really are sleazy members of the undead.”
Angel and Wesley opened their mouths at the same time, but Gunn stomped quickly on Wes’ foot, silencing him just in time for Angel to say, “I’ll go, but I’m not wearing a costume.”
“You have to,” Cordelia told him. “It’s kind of in the rules.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got one.” He would not have thought it possible, but her beautiful grin became even wider. “I’ve got just the one,” she emphasized.
Gunn grinned as he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, “Shut up, English. Let them have this.”
“Okay,” Angel agreed, but as they walked out of the room together, leaving Gunn and Wesley behind them, the guys heard him mutter, “But it’s not Chewbacca, is it?”
“Who knew?” Cordy’s happy voice drifted back to them. “You do know something after all!”
“I bet she’s got a Solo costume tucked away somewhere,” Gunn murmured, still grinning. “That girl knows her stuff!”
Wesley huffed. “I would make a dashing Hans Solo.”
“No way, dude. You might be able to cut it as Luke, but I doubt that too.”
Wesley’s face colored indignantly. “I’ll have you know that when Cordelia was in high school, she chose me -- “
“To make Harris jealous. Yeah, I know. But that was kids’ games, Wes. Angel and Cordy, like they say, is end game.” Just as he, not his dear friend, was Fred’s end game, but that was a story for another time.