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Cordelia Chase takes crap from no one. (thisismyofframp) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2012-01-15 20:05:00

Entry tags:

cordelia chase, owen harper

WHO: Cordelia Chase and Owen Harper
WHAT: These two are roommates. Be afraid. Be very afraid.
WHEN: Sunday late morning.
WHERE: Apartment 110A.
RATING: TBD
STATUS: In Progress

Having spent the better part of the night before - also known as her birthday - in a drunken stupor thanks to the liquor that Spike had given her, Cordelia had not risen bright and early as she typically did. In fact, it was closer to eleven than ten in the morning when she finally rolled over and peered out blearily at her alarm clock beside her bed. Snuggling down deeper under her covers, she probably would have slept until eleven had passed by entirely and noon was close to doing the same if not for one thing that finally registered in her sluggish, hungover mind.

She was in her bed.

Sitting up straight, an action she regretted a split second later when the world tilted violently at the sudden motion, she slowly drank in the welcomed sight of her bedroom. Despite feeling as though her brain was currently doing a protest march against her temples, Cordelia smiled. "Finally," she exclaimed. Almost giddily, she quickly grabbed a bottle of pain killers that she kept beside her bed, mostly in case her visions ever turned into giant balls of agonizing slow death again but also handy for when she'd hit the bottle a little too hard the night before. After swallowing a couple of the pills, she tossed the blanket aside and padded out of her room with every intention of making a beeline for the coffee pot in order to continue her hangover cure ritual.

It wasn't until she had actually reached the kitchen that she realized another very important fact. Yes, she was back in her own apartment... but she wasn't alone. In fact, there was someone sitting at her counter, looking for all the world as though they belonged there. Someone masculine, or at least pretty butch if the haircut was anything to go by. Someone that definitely was not Daryl, or Constantine, or Spike, or any other guy she recognized who might, for some reason, be there.

"Uh, excuse me," she heard herself saying before she'd even really given any thought to what she was doing. "But what in the hell do you think you're doing?"

Smart, Cordy. Real smart, she thought to herself as soon as the words had left her mouth. Nothing like pissing off a potential robber while unarmed and in your pajamas, no less. If you get yourself killed before you've even brushed your hair, you are never living this down. Of course, the thought was all well and good, but she wasn't paying that much attention to her common sense at the moment. She was too busy standing in the doorway, hands on her hips and a ticked off expression on her face, waiting for Mr. Made-Himself-At-Home to answer her.

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imatwat
2012-01-17 02:03 pm UTC (link)

Moving to the fridge, Owen shifted a few things aside before succeeding in finding the things that he needed. Pulling out a bowl, Owen dumped the soup and the lemon juice into the bowl, shaking in a few drops of the Tabasco sauce before popping all of it into the microwave and heating it up. He knew how disgusting it probably sounded as well as how horrible it might taste to someone who wasn't used to it, but it worked. And it was far better than just having a stomach full of nothing but coffee until you actually felt recovered enough to eat solid food.

"What we work with tend to be more aggressive than E.T.," Owen said with a laugh before pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Think more like a horror movie where everybody that isn't smart enough not to get themselves killed has to have their death faked in a much more realistic way," He said with a grin as he moved back over to the counter, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Not that I'm alien myself, mind you," He said, "if you were thinking that." He wouldn't have put it past some people to make that mistake. "Just plan old brilliant human doctor recruited by a covert agency."

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thisismyofframp
2012-01-17 02:08 pm UTC (link)

Cordelia stared at him as he put together his little concoction, somehow knowing it was for her yet really, really hoping it wasn't. Or that the power would go out before it finished heating up. Or that the world would explode. She could handle that, too, over the thought of-

Suddenly her attention was torn from the microwave slowly counting down to what she was absolutely certain was going to be her last meal, to the man responsible for fixing it. "A covert agency that deals with aggressive alien threats," she repeated flatly. "That's..." She paused, then shook her head. "Nope. No words. I actually do not have words to describe that. And I always have words to describe things, typically in a colorful, amusing way, in fact."

With a soft groan, she brought her fingers up to her temples and began massaging them softly. "I am way too sober for this conversation," she complained quietly before drawing in a breath and forcing herself to face Owen once more. She could handle this. She could. The food he was making, not so much, but this conversation about aliens? That was doable.

Maybe.

"You do know this is pretty hard to believe, right? And this is coming from a girl who grew up on a Hellmouth and gets visions from higher powers."

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imatwat
2012-01-17 02:27 pm UTC (link)

"It was a little hard for me to swallow at first, too," Owen said with a grin and a shrug, not really enjoying thoughts of when he'd first found out. Months of watching his fiance slowly fade away from him because of what he'd thought was a brain tumor, what his years of medical knowledge and experience had told him was a brain tumor, only to discover that it was an alien parasite growing in her brain, an alien parasite that killed not only her but all of the doctors who had attempted to save her life by removing it. And the only thing that anyone had told him about what he'd seen, what he was certain he'd seen, was that he should take some time off, take some time until whatever his mind was inventing to cope with Katie's death subsided, to deal with his loss.

Shaking off the thoughts, Owen chuckled, "But once you've dealt with invasions, time rifts, and all the madness that we've got to cover up to keep the world from going into a panic, it becomes part of the every day. I imagine it's the same for...whatever it is you're dealing with," Owen said, not really sure what in the world a Hellmouth was, but he presumed it was probably exactly what it sounded like.

"So. Demons, huh?" Owen asked, chuckling at the way this conversation was evolving, grinning as the microwaved singled the soup being done. Taking it out and pouring part of it into a bowl, Owen placed it down in front of her with a slight smile. "I know you're probably nauseated by the idea of it, but it helps. It also keeps your stomach from trying to dissolve itself later today."

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thisismyofframp
2012-01-25 05:08 am UTC (link)

Personally, Cordelia was more willing to consider letting her stomach dissolve itself than she was even considering trying the concoction her roommate had placed in front of her. However, in the interest of keeping the peace, she didn't say as much. She simply offered him a somewhat dubious smile and fiddled with the edge of the bowl, hoping he wouldn't realize he'd forgotten to give her silverware until she had figured out how to make her escape. Hoping to keep his attention off of the fact that she wasn't touching the bowl of... whatever in the hell it was, she focused on responding to his question.

"Yep. Demons. The guy that was supposed to get the visions from back home was a vampire, actually. Only, one of the good kind. He was on this whole path to redemption kick." Cordelia went deliberately vague at that point, not wanting to give Owen a reason to mock Angel because she would have to kill him if he did and she was pretty sure murdering one's roommate, even when you were hungover, was frowned upon. Instead she offered him a quirk of a grin.

"And because I should probably warn you ahead of time lest I risk some kind of freakout later... I'm part demon too." She shrugged, glancing down at the soup that he'd made while doing so. Blanching, she quickly looked back up at him. "It was the only way to keep my visions without them killing me," she explained as though that was a perfectly normal reason for giving up one's humanity.

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imatwat
2012-01-25 07:47 am UTC (link)

Demons weren't a fond thought for Owen. Having accidentally released one on Cardiff only to have it kill hundreds within a matter of a few minutes was exactly something that he liked remembering, particularly since he took the majority of the blame for it having happened. Nobody else in the office would have shot Jack, and if he hadn't, they never would have opened the Rift. "Not the life force sucking type, I hope," Owen said, trying to play it off like it was nothing, but there was definitely a hint of concern behind his eyes, one that made it clear that he'd had some experience before, and it had left scars. "You hardly seem murderous, but there's been too many circumstances were not seeming murderous just turned out to be a cover for being able to get away with murder. So."

Owen let the last syllable hang in the air as he looked across the counter at her, waiting for some kind of confirmation as to whether he should be worried or not. Not that he expected her to come out and say 'No, I'm a horrible nasty demon who is going to murder you in your sleep,' but any sort of warning if he'd have to worry about more freaktastic stuff than levitation and glowing would be nice.

After a moment of staring in expectation, though, Owen noticed something rather important, "No wonder you're not eating. You don't have a spoon. Honestly, genius level IQ, some of the things I miss," He said with a laugh before crossing back into the kitchen and retrieving the utensil and setting it down next to the bowl. "There. Nothing stopping you now."

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