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The lobby was quiet, so Angel took advantage of Doyle's absence there to make a detour into the office and grab some blood out of the fridge. It was pig -- he kept meaning to bring some of the good stuff to the hotel, but never quite got around to it. He slugged it down cold, then did his best to rinse his mouth out with a couple of swallows of bottled water.
He went up to the suite, gradually able to hear the small sounds of Doyle moving around inside as he got closer.
Angel paused, then knocked on the door and swung it open. "Honey, I'm home."
Doyle was in the kitchen area doing something with some kind of food. "Bet you've been waiting all day to say..." He trailed off as he looked up and saw the state Angel was in. "Okay, we're going to have to work on the 'when hitting something, don't let them hit you back' thing."
Angel stuck his hands into his jacket pockets and slouched a little bit more. "There were more of them than we thought," he said. Then, going for distraction: "What are you making?"
"Nothing too complicated. Just some bacon for a BLT. I ordered some groceries to cut back on the pizza delivery boy interruptions tonight." Doyle took the pan off the heat and walked over to Angel with a smile. And it was definitely Doyle's smile, even if Angel's brain kept insisting it was Cordy's face. "Hi."
"Hi." Angel felt spellbound, aware that he was staring but totally unable to do anything about it. "Remember that thing we talked about?"
"Yeah." Doyle started forward, then stopped, looking at Angel with a frown. "I'm not going to hurt you am I?"
"I don't care," Angel said honestly, reaching out to grab Doyle's hand and pull him closer.
Doyle came willingly, and wrapped his arms around Angel, but he was very careful not to press very hard. "I care."
Angel buried his face in Doyle's hair, inhaling and smelling shampoo that was definitely not Cordy's. He let Doyle's warmth slowly soak in, trying not to think about anything at all.
"I borrowed your shampoo. I hope you don't mind."
He shook his head slightly. "No. It's good." Better, having Doyle smell less like Cordy. Less confusing.
"I wasn't stupid enough to touch your hair gel though." The tone of Doyle's voice let him know he was being teased now.
Angel slid a hand up Doyle's back and into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Looks nice anyway," he said.
"Thanks." Doyle leaned back a little into his touch. "Mm, missed you."
"Me too." Angel would have been perfectly happy to stand there for the rest of the night, just listening to the sound of Doyle's heartbeat.
"Rough day?"
Angel sighed and tightened his grip a little bit, even though it made his ribs ache. "Not really. Not more than usual."
"So it sounds like they're all rough days then." Doyle's hands slid over Angel's back in soothing circles. "Guess I'll just have to see what I can do to help the nights make up for it."
Despite his desire to stay right where he was, Angel pulled back a little and looked into Doyle's eyes in Cordy's face. "Actually, that vacation we were talking about before is starting to sound better and better."
"If that's what you need, that's what we'll do." Doyle leaned in and kissed him. "But think we can figure something to do that would distract you from your problems tonight?"
Angel kissed back anxiously, one hand still tangled in the hair at the back of Doyle's neck, then stopped and stepped backward, releasing Doyle. "Have your dinner and tell me what you did today?" he suggested.
"Not much," Doyle said, reluctantly pulling back from Angel and heading back to the kitchen to make his sandwich. "Talked to you and Wesley via email, explored the hotel some." He glanced over his shoulder at Angel. "Fantasized."
Trying to look casual -- he didn't have a hard time looking interested -- Angel leaned against the doorway and watched as Doyle took out some bread. "Oh yeah? What about?"
"Strangely enough, about being caught by a vampire who ripped my clothes off and chained me to his bed, and had his wicked way with me. Over and over until I was begging for mercy." He grinned at Angel.
"Where'd you come up with something kinky like that?" Angel asked, lifting his eyebrows. "Sounds pretty sick to me."
"So call me a sick bastard then." He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously, which looked decidedly disturbing on Cordelia's face. "But think you could oblige?"
Angel heaved a very fake sigh, feeling the heavy weight that'd be hanging over him all day lifting. "Yeah, I *guess* so. If it'd make you happy. But I hope you're appreciative of me catering to your twisted fantasies."
"Yes, because we all know your twisted fantasies involve purple hair."
It didn't take much energy to put on a burst of speed that let Angel pin Doyle's curvaceous new body against the countertop. "We're not talking about my fantasies," Angel said, in a voice that was almost a purr. "This is all... about... you."
"Is it now?" A smile hovered at the corners of Doyle's lips.
Angel traced a vein in Doyle's throat with his tongue. "It is. So if you want a chance to eat that sandwich before I tie you up, you'd better stop getting me so worked up."
Doyle obligingly tilted his head to give Angel better access. "Maybe I want you worked up."
Uncertain, Angel paused. "You don't want to eat?"
"I can wait. I want you more."
Angel groaned softly, Doyle's words seeming to go straight to his cock. "By the time I'm done with you, you're gonna want me so bad you can't think straight," he whispered, letting his thumb brush gently over one of Doyle's nipples.
Doyle gave just the slightest of gasps. "I'm all for thinking crooked."
With a small growl, Angel swept Doyle up into his arms and carried him easily into the bedroom. Then, grinning, he tossed Doyle onto the bed without warning.
Doyle let out an involuntary yelp as he bounced, which morphed into laughter. "You don't take much convincing, do you?"
Instead of answering, Angel reached down casually with both hands and tore the thin fabric of Doyle's shirt open from neck to waistband. "This oughta do," he said, yanking the remnants of the shirt from underneath Doyle and testing the strength, then deliberately meeting Doyle's eyes.
Doyle met his gaze fearlessly, then glanced up at the top of the bed where a bunch of silk scarves had been laid. "I've been preparing," Doyle said with a little grin.
Angel let the shirt drop to the floor and picked up one of the scarves, running the silk through his fingers. He took one of Doyle's slender wrists and tied it to the bed frame, giving it a careful tug to make sure it was secure. "Not too tight?" Angel asked, in a voice that said he might not have changed anything if it was.
"S'fine," Doyle said, after giving it a tug of his own.
The other wrist quickly followed, then Angel picked up a third scarf and
leaned down to kiss Doyle, firmly but teasingly, his tongue sliding between soft lips.
He thought briefly about gagging Doyle too, but decided he'd rather be able to
listen
Angel ran a hand over warm skin and down to cup the swell of one breast, letting it fill his palm.
Doyle remained perfectly still, but Angel could hear his heartbeat speeding up and smell his growing arousal.
"I can smell it on you, you know," Angel said, moving his hands down to the waistband of the soft jeans Doyle was wearing, sliding his thumbs in underneath the cloth. "How much you want me."
"Can you?" Doyle was obviously trying to stay still, but Angel could feel the tremors in his muscles at the effort.
With one quick movement, Angel tore open the front of Doyle's jeans, splitting them down the center. It was a moment's work to shred the rest of the material and throw them onto the floor. "You want me to touch you?" he asked.
"Yeah." The word was breathed low and soft, dark with arousal and need, as dark as Doyle's eyes following his every move.
Angel smiled with half his mouth, stepping away from the bed. "You're gonna have to wait. I need to take care of something first." And he started, very slowly, to unbutton his shirt.
He wanted to lose himself in this so badly that it wasn't hard to. One button at a time, easing each little circle through its hole, while Doyle watched him with an expression that wasn't anything he'd ever seen Cordy wear.
Shirt sliding off his fingers onto the floor in a flutter of Egyptian cotton, and then his hands moved to his belt, undoing it, pulling it free.
Angel dragged the leather strap over Doyle's bare stomach, smiling seductively.
Doyle jumped a little at the feel, then wriggled sensuously in an effort to entice. "That all you got?"
"Oh, trust me, we're just getting started," Angel said, before dropping the belt onto the floor too and starting to undo his pants.
When he'd slid the zipper down, he reached inside and pulled out his cock, stroked it lazily to full hardness while watching Doyle through heavily-lidded eyes. Angel was well aware that Doyle's gaze was now fastened on his cock, and the smell of Doyle's arousal grew stronger, a heady aroma filling the room.
"Thought I remembered you saying something about wanting me naked this time around," Angel said as he carelessly removed the rest of his clothes at something like half speed.
The sight of Doyle, in Cordy's perfect, lush body, restrained on the bed, wanting him... it would have taken his breath away, if he'd had any.
"Naked is good," Doyle confirmed, still staring.
Angel stepped closer to the head of the bed. "See something you like?"
"Yeah." A ghost of a smile touched Doyle's lips. "Even without the purple hair."
Fighting a grin at the way Doyle was trying to throw him out of step, Angel leaned down until his mouth was millimeters from Doyle's. "You," he said, "are incorrigible. You know what I do to people who are incorrigible?"
"Kiss them?"
"I make them beg," Angel said, straightening up and moving to the end of the bed. He took hold of Doyle's ankles and spread his legs wide, kneeling in the space between. "Want me to touch you?"
"I thought we'd already established that." Doyle was doing his best to keep his tone casual but wasn't succeeding very well.
"Hm," Angel said thoughtfully, fondling his erection with one hand. "Doesn't sound like begging to me."
"Yeah, like you're going to use your hand when you've got a perfectly good lover here to use instead." But Doyle's eyes were fastened on what Angel's hand was doing.
"I don't need to come at all," Angel said. "You think I haven't gone a lot longer than this?" He let go of himself and ghosted a fingertip along the inside edge of Doyle's knee. "I can go weeks. Months, if I have to. Think you can go that long?"
Doyle's leg twitched. "Dunno. I've only had this body a day."
His fingertip moved a tiny bit higher -- to the spot just between knee and thigh -- and drew little circles there, still barely touching the skin. "Want to find out?"
"Within reason. I have a lunch date with Wesley tomorrow."
Angel chuckled darkly, then leaned in, one hand on either side of Doyle's waist, and blew air across Doyle's left nipple, watching as it tightened to a hard peak. "Darn," he said. "'Cause I was really looking forward to tasting you."
This time Doyle's shiver would be visible to anybody. "Tasting me?" he asked, licking his lips.
"You know," Angel said, putting some extra force behind the words so that air would move across Doyle's other nipple this time. "Licking you. In all those sensitive spots down between your legs where you taste... so... good." He sat upright again, regretfully. "But if you don't want to beg..."
"Maybe you should give me a sample of what I'm begging for," was Doyle's quick answer.
"What do you think this, a perfume counter?' Angel smirked. "I don't give free samples."
"You think you're that good I should just take your word for it?"
"You didn't seem to mind too much last night," Angel pointed out. He pushed back onto his knees again and played idly with his foreskin, drawing it over the head of his cock and then pulling it back again. The slick sound was audible even to a human's ears.
Doyle's tongue darted out and licked at his lips as he stared. "So... uh... for discussion sake, what kind of begging were you looking for?"
Angel shrugged. "You look... creative. I'm sure you could come up with something."
Doyle considered, then offered, "Please?"
Slowly, Angel traced a fingertip over the head of his swollen cock, then lifted it to his own lips and sucked it clean. "Mmm," he said. "You can do better than that."
"Please touch me?"
Letting vampiric instinct take partial control, Angel growled slightly. "Touch you *where?*"
Doyle swallowed. "There. Between my legs. Where you touched me last night."
"You forgot to say please this time," Angel said, but he was hovering on the edge of giving in, at least partially because he didn't think he could expect Doyle to use more specific language.
"Please," Doyle said obediently, shifting his legs, spreading them a bit wider in invitation.
Angel slid down Doyle's body, pressing his own eager cock against the sheets, and licked along Doyle's inner thigh, leaving a damp trail.
Doyle twitched again.
Angel licked higher, teasing the crease where Doyle's thigh met his body.
"Well, you're getting closer," Doyle murmured breathlessly, chuckling a little.
"Wouldn't mind hearing that word again," Angel said, spreading Doyle's thighs even wider and flicking his tongue over the spot he knew would make Doyle tense with pleasure.
Doyle's breath caught. "You mean please?"
Giving a reward for good behavior, Angel repeated the motion with his tongue, more lingeringly this time.
Another gasp, this time with a bit of a moan in it. "God..."
Doyle tasted a little bit like Angel had imagined Cordy would, but not completely, and that helped. Angel licked again, flickering his tongue over the sensitive wetness, then worked two fingers into Doyle's tight opening, pushing in deep.
Doyle moaned again, louder, pushing his hips up into the touch. "Please," he murmured, this time sounding more heartfelt.
The night before, Angel had just wanted to make Doyle feel good, to make him come. Tonight, he wanted to drive him crazy with need.
He watched as Doyle writhed under his touch, struck by how... abandoned and open Doyle was with him.
Repeatedly, Angel brought Doyle to the edge, then backed off, leaving him quivering and panting. Again and again, until Angel's cock hurt from holding back.
Doyle by this point was panting, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He was writhing desperately, tugging on his bound arms, trying to get more. Words had deserted him, little whimpers and moans all that was left behind.
"You taste so fucking good," Angel murmured against Doyle's flushed skin, trying to distract himself from his throbbing cock. He moved up to devour Doyle's mouth, his fingers still thrusting in and out between Doyle's legs.
Doyle kissed him back, wildly, desperately, arching his body up to get as much skin contact as he could.
Angel could feel the heat radiating from Doyle everywhere, warming him. He could see the red marks on the pale skin of Doyle's wrists where the silk scarves rubbed, bringing the blood nearer the surface. "God, the way you move," Angel said in a low voice. "You like this? Like me making you crazy?"
Words still seemed beyond Doyle -- which, when he thought of it was pretty amazing for Doyle -- because he just nodded.
Doyle's lips were parted slightly, so Angel kissed him again, sliding his tongue in between them and finding Doyle's own tongue, which met his eagerly. At the same time, Angel shifted his position, letting his cock push against the softness of Doyle's inner thigh. He had to close his eyes at the feel of it, at the thought of being able to slide into that hot willing body.
"Please." The word was moaned and Angel wasn't sure if Doyle remembered its meaning right then. But the way he squirmed underneath him was eloquent enough.
Angel would have liked to draw it out, but his cock was so hard it was killing him. He stopped fucking Doyle with his hand, barely registering the whimper that accompanied the loss, then lined himself up and snapped his hips, finally, finally plunging his cock into Doyle's tightness.
Doyle's entire body arched like a bow, crying out sharply at Angel's entrance.
It had been less than twenty-four hours since he'd been inside Doyle like this, and it was even more incredible than Angel had remembered. He moved strongly, thrusting deep, while his hands went up and wrapped themselves around Doyle's wrists, adding his own personal form of restraint to the scarves that kept Doyle's arms over his head.
Beneath him, Doyle's movements took on the rhythm of Angel's thrusts, urging him on.
"Look at me," Angel said, without slowing down. He needed to see Doyle's eyes... needed the reminder that this was *Doyle.*
Green eyes glazed with lust opened and met his own; Angel could see the love sparkling in their depths.
Angel groaned and leaned in closer, not kissing Doyle because he needed to keep looking into his eyes, but getting so close that he could feel Doyle's panted breaths on his own lips.
It was almost like breathing.
Doyle couldn't wrap his arms around him, but he did lift his head, trying to get closer, get even more contact. "Angel," he whispered, voice more breath than sound.
"Yeah," Angel said, thrusting harder. "Say it again."
He could see Doyle's throat muscles working as he swallowed, another moan bubbling up from his chest. "Angel."
Angel tightened his grip on those slender wrists, careful to take it only to the line of bruising and no further. His rhythm was starting to fall apart, and he knew he couldn't hold back much longer.
Doyle was panting harder and Angel could hear, smell, feel how close he was as well. He was trembling on the knife's edge and would need only one small push to throw him over.
Crushing his mouth to Doyle's, Angel kissed him ferociously. He shifted one of Doyle's wrists into the grip of his other hand so that he was holding both together, then reached down to roughly pinch a nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
That did it. Doyle screamed, his body convulsing in orgasm.
Angel rode it out, continuing to thrust as Doyle came. It wasn't until it was over, when Doyle gave a final shudder and relaxed, that he let himself begin to move in the way that would take him over the edge too.
"That's it," Doyle murmured encouragingly, still breathless as Angel continued to move within him. "Wanna feel you come in me."
Cordy's voice, Doyle's words... the combination of the two was more than enough. Angel gasped, "Oh God... *Doyle*..." and then it felt like he was flying apart, coming so hard that it almost hurt.
Doyle murmured softly to him as he came down, words of love and caring.
It made him feel... safe. Like maybe underneath all the bad stuff, just maybe, it was okay to have something good.
"Love you," Doyle murmured, moving to kiss Angel's temple, the only part of his face Doyle could easily reach.
"Love you too." The words weren't as easy to say as they were to think, but he managed.
"Angel?"
"Yeah?" He pushed himself up onto his elbows, grinning down at Doyle just a little bit.
Doyle's mouth curved up in response. "Can you untie me now?"
Angel blinked. "Oh. Right." He fumbled with the scarves, worrying for a minute that maybe he'd done *too* good a job tying them, then got them undone.
Doyle groaned a little as he brought his arms down, rubbing at his wrists. "Thanks."
"You okay?" Angel reached for one wrist tentatively.
"Yeah." Doyle smiled at Angel as he took over massaging his wrist. "Just a bit of lost circulation. Definitely worth it."
Angel chafed at the reddened skin gently for another minute, then lay back, pulling Doyle down with him and holding him close. "I've been thinking," he started.
"If you were still able to think, then we weren't doing it right," Doyle teased, then got serious. "What have you been thinking?"
"I've been thinking," Angel said, "That maybe *I* don't want to go back to work either. I think we should just stay here. All the time." He paused, then added, "In bed."
Doyle chuckled and snuggled closer. "I could get behind that."
"Nah. See, sooner or later, you'd have to get up to eat."
"True. And use the bathroom."
Angel closed his eyes and sighed. "Guess people would notice if I didn't show up at the office though."
"You're the boss -- you can do whatever you want." Doyle's fingers came up and traced lightly over his features.
"Other than not show up," Angel said, keeping his eyes closed and letting Doyle touch him however he wanted. "Since that's kinda the point about the 'boss' thing."
"You could give orders via computer."
Angel shook his head slightly. "How would I do that if I wasn't going to get out of bed?"
"Laptop?" Doyle suggested. "Wireless connection?"
"I thought you were supposed to be a *good* influence on me," Angel complained.
"Getting you to take time for yourself *is* a good influence."
Angel thought about that for a minute. "Besides... it's not like they'd miss me?"
Doyle rolled over until he was straddling Angel, looking down into his face. "That isn't the lesson you're supposed to be learning here."
"Then I think you need to use smaller words." Angel consider this. "And shorter sentences."
"It's good that you're taking time for yourself, letting yourself have something outside of work and brooding. But that doesn't mean you don't have people who would miss you if you disappeared from their lives." Doyle raised an eyebrow. "Short enough for you?"
"Um... so was part of that a 'Yes, you should go to work?'"
Doyle sighed, then leaned over and kissed him. "Go to work, don't go to work, just don't push the people who care about you away."
Angel tangled his fingers in Doyle's hair before he could straighten up. "I don't want to push you away."
"Ah, well me you can't push away." Doyle grinned.
Slowly, not sure if he was liking the direction the conversation was taking, Angel said, "So you're talking about Wesley."
"Wesley, Lorne, all the people who care about you," Doyle clarified.
Angel rolled Doyle off of him -- gently, but firmly -- and shifted his weight, moving up to lean against the head of the bed. "Pretty much pushed them away for good already," he pointed out.
Doyle slid an arm around Angel's waist, and pressed himself up against his side again. "I doubt that. But we can take them one at a time if you want."
"No, I mean..." The urge to push Doyle away, to retreat, was strong, but Angel fought it. "I pushed them away when I agreed to the mind wipe. Took away all that history and replaced it with... well, other history I guess. But..."
"But it's not the history you remember," Doyle said softly, understanding.
"And I can't take it back." He met Doyle's eyes, hoping that would make it clear what he was saying.
"No one's asking you to take a memo out in the company newsletter."
"Good. Because I'm not going to." Frustrated, not liking how talking about this made him feel, Angel slid free from Doyle's embrace and went over to the dresser. He got out a pair of soft cotton work-out pants and pulled them on.
Sighing, Doyle got up as well, slipping on the robe he'd borrowed the night before. He crossed the room and slid his arms around Angel's waist from behind. "Told you ya can't push me away."
Angel turned around awkwardly without breaking Doyle's hold on him, and tilted Doyle's face up so that he could kiss him. "I'm not pushing you away," he lied, hoping it was convincing. "I just... don't want to talk about it."
Doyle shrugged. "I wasn't exactly keen about coming back as a woman, but ya do what ya have to, to get what you want -- and need."
"I think you need to have something to eat," Angel said, extricating himself from Doyle's arms *again* and going into the kitchen. There was a tomato sitting on the countertop, so he grabbed it and a knife and started cutting slices.
Well, *trying* to cut slices.
Doyle had followed him and was now leaning against the doorway, watching. It was such a Doyle-esque pose that it was a bit startling to see Cordelia's body doing it.
Made it easier to see Doyle as Doyle though.
"You want some help?"
"I can do it," Angel said irritably, glancing back at what he was doing just in time to watch as the unsliced half tomato in his hand turned into pulp in his grip.
Doyle came forward and grabbed a towel; taking Angel's hand in his, he gently cleaned off the tomato remains, all without saying a word.
Angel stood very still. "I can do this," he said.
"You don't have to do it alone." Doyle didn't let go of his hand.
It seemed like it had reached the point where Angel didn't know what to say, so he used his other hand to reach for another tomato. "Maybe you should cut this one," he said, offering it to Doyle.
Doyle smiled and took it from him. Turning back to the counter, he began slicing it neatly. "Can I ask you some questions, Angel?"
"Sure?" At least it was a little bit easier with part of Doyle's attention on the knife in his hands.
Green eyes glanced up to meet his own. "How do you feel about me?"
Angel blinked. "You know how I feel about you." Didn't he? "Um... don't you?"
Doyle's smile was quick and reassuring. "Tell me anyway."
"I'm glad you're back," Angel ventured after a long silence. "I... you're my friend." A longer pause, because it was so hard to say. "I love you."
He was rewarded with an even brighter smile. "I love you too. But don't you find this-" Doyle gestured at his body, "-to be a problem?"
Angel's gaze lingered on Doyle's new curves. "Um... no?"
Doyle raised an eyebrow.
"What kind of problem are you talking about?" Angel gestured back toward the bedroom. "I mean, you were there for that, right? Can't say I had a... problem with it."
"I'm not saying you're not doing fabulous at overcoming any problems," Doyle replied, grinning widely briefly, "but I know it's gotta be hard to look at me and see Cordelia."
Angel stared at Doyle for a minute, then swallowed and glanced down at the floor. "Well, yeah."
Doyle moved, and Angel felt his hand on his cheek in a gentle, comforting caress. "But you love me," Doyle said softly. "And that makes it worth it to work through the hard parts."
He looked up, and got caught in Doyle's gaze. "Yeah."
Doyle smiled and kissed him gently. "Can I ask something else?"
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Angel asked, with a wry grin.
"You're doing great so far."
He leaned in and wrapped his arms around Doyle, letting the infusing warmth soothe him as their bodies molded to each other. "Okay. I mean, yeah, ask me."
"How do you feel about Wesley?"
Angel stiffened slightly -- he couldn't help it -- but he tried to stay calm, tried to think rationally. "I... care about him?"
Doyle made an encouraging noise and kissed him. "Go on."
"Don't suppose you want that sandwich?" Angel asked, without much hope.
"I can eat and listen at the same time."
But now Angel wasn't so sure he wanted to let go of Doyle. "What am I supposed to do here? Make a list of things I like about him?"
"That could be a place to start." Doyle was obligingly not pulling away.
Okay, he could do that. "He's smart. He knows what's important." Angel thought for another minute. "He tries to do the right thing."
"Anything else?"
"He's got really good aim?" Angel sighed and pulled away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Heck, Doyle, I don't know."
"But you care for him."
"Yeah." There might have been times when he wished he hadn't, but he did.
Doyle smiled at him. "That's a pretty miserable yeah."
Angel sighed again. "Sometimes I get tired of getting burned."
"So you don't trust Wesley."
"Trust him with what?" Angel gave a half-hearted shrug. "I mean, I trust him to do what he thinks is the right thing. But stuff like that's kind of subjective."
Doyle seemed to consider before speaking again. "I'm going to say something, and I know your first reaction is going to be denial followed by running from the conversation."
"And you still think it's a good idea to say it?"
"Someone's got to bring the subject up, and I'm the only one here."
"Fine, go ahead," Angel said, with only slightly less reluctance than he felt.
Doyle took a deep breath before speaking. "I think you need to tell Wesley what really happened. Not just for him, but for you as well."
"I can't," Angel said flatly. The kitchen was too small for pacing, so he moved back into the bedroom, walking from one end of the floor to the other, running a hand through his hair as he did. "There's no way to know what might happen."
"You're scared," Doyle said bluntly, once again having moved to lean against the door jamb while he watched Angel move.
"I'm not," Angel said, realizing that his hands were clenched into fists.
"You're *terrified*." Doyle started walking across the room towards him. "And it's not about Connor. It's about the fact that if you tell, then you'll have to deal with it. With Wesley."
Angel made sure to keep some distance between them. "I don't want to go *back* to that," he blurted out.
"Because how things are now between you is so much better?" Doyle asked bluntly.
"I didn't know it was going to be like this," Angel protested, crossing the room again. "I didn't know what kind of... replacement memories I was agreeing to. Not," he added quickly, "that I would have said no to the deal. I didn't have a choice."
"You did what you had to do," Doyle agreed. "You did what was best for your son. No one's arguing with you there. But the way things stand now... You see the damage the false memories are doing in this instance. It's not just destroying whatever chance you have to regain the friendship with Wesley, it's destroying Wesley himself."
Angel's shoulders slumped, the tension draining away and taking the anger with it. "It's just... it seems like everything I touch goes wrong." His voice was quiet.
Doyle approached him again, wrapping his arms around him. "No it doesn't. I promise."
"I don't know what to do," Angel whispered into Doyle's hair.
"Do you... Would it be easier if I told him first?"
Angel let the offer sink in, feeling unbelievably lucky that Doyle would even suggest it. "You shouldn't have to do that," he said.
Doyle shrugged and pulled back enough to smile at him. "Have to doesn't have anything to do with it. I love you, and I like Wesley a great deal. I want to help."
"I don't know if... Let me think about it?" Angel kissed Doyle, trying to put his gratitude into the kiss. "I... you'd really do that?"
Doyle nodded. "Yeah."
The corner of Angel's mouth tilted up into a little smile. "You really do love me, don't you."
That got Angel a glare of mock-disbelief. "You're just figuring this out now? You've a harder head than I thought."
"Probably," Angel agreed. "So... are we done?"
"You mean am I done asking you the really hard questions?" Doyle asked, smiling back.
"Please?"
Doyle chuckled. "Promise me you'll give me an answer in the morning?"
Angel wasn't sure this was a decision he could make in one night, and he wasn't sure his answer was going to be what Doyle wanted it to be. Actually, he wasn't even sure *which* answer Doyle wanted. "Okay," he promised. "I mean... I'll try."
He was rewarded with a beaming Doyle smile and a long lingering kiss. "That's all I can ask."
"You really do, don't you?" Angel asked, with even more wonder this time. "Love me, I mean."
"Yeah," Doyle replied, still smiling. "I do. And not just because you can make me come so hard I feel like the top of my head is going to blow off."
Angel just pulled Doyle in closer. "Don't worry. I'll make sure the top of your head doesn't, you know, *really* blow off."
"Good. It would be hard to kiss you without a head."
"Be hard for you to do other things too," Angel told him, then realized how that could be taken. "Um, like talk me out of being stupid."
Doyle kissed him again. "Or eat a BLT."
"Or talk to Wesley," Angel said slowly, seeing how the words sounded out loud.
"Yeah." Doyle smiled at him. "Or that. Or tell you I love you."
"You can say that as many times as you want to. Don't think I'm gonna get tired of hearing it."
"Good." Tugging on his hands, Doyle pulled him toward the kitchen. "You can come watch me eat and I'll tell you between bites."
Angel went along willingly. More than willingly. It didn't matter who Doyle looked like; he was back. That was all that mattered.
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