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All the Wrong Places - Part 24
Wesley smiled at Doyle as he got into the car. "How are you?"
Doyle smiled, but it seemed rather forced. "I'm hanging in there," he said, and Wesley was once again struck that
despite it being Cordelia's face and voice, the expression and words were so much Doyle that there was no mistaking
the identity.
"Have you eaten anything at all? They say that low blood sugar accounts for most mood swings." Wesley
closed his eyes briefly as he realized how this sounded. "Er, not that I'm saying you're experiencing mood
swings, or that you don't have the right to be upset under the circumstances." He waited for Doyle to buckle
his seat-belt, then put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb.
Doyle's smile became more genuine. "Maybe that's a solution to Angel's mood swings -- whenever he starts
with the freaking, I can just shove a mug of blood under his nose."
Glad that his comment hadn't been taken the wrong way, Wesley nodded. "I can't imagine it would hurt."
"Might derail him before he can get up a whole head of steam at least. And to answer your question, no I haven't
had anything to eat yet."
"Then that's the first order of business." Wesley glanced over at him. "You need to take care of yourself. Think
how angry Cordelia would be if you didn't."
"Wouldn't want that, now, would we? She was bad enough when she was just human; it's a shiver-inducing
thought to think what she could do now that she's a higher being."
Wesley agreed. "What I was saying before... about mood swings?"
Doyle sighed, the sound a bit exasperated. "You've got the staying power of a pit-bull, ya know that?"
"I know." Wesley tried not to apologize, although the temptation was definitely there. "I just wanted to make
sure you were... prepared. Women... women's *bodies*... experience hormonal shifts throughout the month,
and... well. Of course you know all this."
"You think I'm suffering from PMS?"
"No," Wesley said. "I think that you probably will at some point, and I just want you to be aware of it. That's all."
He was finding this hard to put into words.
He wasn't sure if the fact Doyle seemed amused at the conversation made it better or worse.
"You're trying to give me the birds and the bees talk," Doyle said, chuckling.
Wesley pulled into the small parking lot of the local sandwich shop he favored and turned off the car. "It just
strikes me that you've had enough surprises lately. I'd like to spare you any more, if I can."
"I appreciate the concern." Doyle laid a hand on Wesley's arm. "Really."
He patted Doyle's hand. "Let's get some food into you, and then we'll see what we can do about altering your
appearance slightly. If you still think that might help."
Doyle shrugged as he opened the car door. "Figure it can't hurt."
Wesley found that there was a certain urge to do things for Doyle that even Cordelia would have rolled her
eyes over -- holding doors, offering his arm as they walked across a particularly rough patch of
pavement -- and that he had to fight the impulse to do them. It bothered him slightly, but he wasn't sure why.
When they got settled at a table, Doyle turned to Wesley and asked, "How are you doing? I'm not the only
one who's had to deal with a lot of surprises lately."
All he could do was shake his head. "I'm fine. More worried about you and Angel than anything else really."
But it was Doyle's turn not to be taken off the topic. "You dealing with... everything?"
"I wouldn't say dealing," Wesley answered, surprised yet again by the way Doyle seemed to open him up.
"Avoiding, maybe. Dealing will come later."
"Before or after the breakdown?" Doyle asked dryly.
"Preferably in place of."
Doyle grinned. "That would be the option I'd choose, yeah."
The shop's one waitress came over to take their order, putting the conversation on hold for a few minutes.
Once she'd left again, Wesley said, "Angel emailed me earlier."
He saw the concern flash through Doyle's eyes. "Is he... How was he?"
"Worried about you." Wesley sat quietly, trying to exude calm.
"It would be more convincing if he wasn't the one who ran out this morning like I was throwing crosses
at him," Doyle said bitterly, then waved a hand with a sigh. "Sorry. Didn't mean that. It's just..."
"You expect better from him." It wasn't as if Wesley didn't know what that felt like. "If it helps, he's very
disappointed in his own behaviour."
"I'm sure he is; it gives him something new to brood about."
Wesley wasn't sure if he should try to jolly Doyle out of his funk or let him wallow. Lord knew he was
entitled to be upset at the way Angel had acted, and yet... "He's trying," he said gently.
"I know." Doyle sighed, and leaned back in his chair. "God knows, it's not like I didn't know what I was
getting into."
Uncomfortably, Wesley asked, "Are you... are you regretting it?"
Startled, Doyle shook his head emphatically. "No. Not even a- No."
Wesley sighed in what might have been relief. "Well... good. I mean... you should do what's right for you,
regardless of how it might affect him, but... I'm glad."
Doyle smiled a bit. "You really care a lot about him, don't you?"
"I want you both to be happy." Wesley just sat there for a long moment, thinking, shredding the edge of his
paper napkin as he did so.
"And what about you?"
Wesley looked up. "What about me?"
"You want Angel and me to be happy -- what about you?" Doyle cocked his head to the side as he studied
Wesley. "Do you want to be happy?"
"Of course," Wesley said automatically.
"Do you?"
Stung by what he heard as an accusation of sorts, Wesley leaned back in his chair. "No, of course I don't. I'd
much prefer to be miserable."
"If I was going strictly by your actions, that would be the conclusion I'd be forced to draw."
Wesley blinked, resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest like a petulant child. "All right then --
tell me what I'm doing wrong."
"You don't value yourself," Doyle told him bluntly.
"I can't imagine why," Wesley said. "What with everyone thinking that I'm incapable of doing anything right."
"I don't think that," Doyle pointed out. "Angel doesn't think that."
"You just *told* me," Wesley said, frowning, "that I'm not doing a proper job of being happy."
"I just told you that from where I'm sitting it looks like you don't think you deserve to be happy."
Wesley didn't want to talk about this -- actually, to be perfectly truthful, he didn't even want to think
about it. "I'm not sure it's that simple to calculate."
Doyle gave a half shrug. "Never said it was simple. It's damned complicated if you ask me. But that doesn't
make it any less true."
"No, I meant..." As much as he didn't want to talk about it, there was something in Wesley that didn't like to
let a misunderstanding slide. "Determining whether someone deserves something."
"Do I deserve to be happy?"
"Well *obviously,*" Wesley said, since as far as he was concerned that *was* simple.
"Does Angel?"
"Doyle, have you any idea how many lives he's saved? How hard he's worked for his redemption?" He knew
Doyle was trying to prove a point, and felt frustrated that he had to dance in the conversation like a puppet
on strings.
Doyle placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Seems to me that you don't have any problem with
determining who deserves happiness as long as it's not you."
Tension was making Wesley irritable. "Well if I'm not qualified, I can't imagine who is. You? You barely know me."
"Sometimes that can make for clearer vision," Doyle replied easily, completely unruffled.
"And sometimes it can mean that someone's being willfully blind."
"So are you looking at me and saying you do think you deserve happiness?"
"I'm saying... I'm..." Wesley sighed. "I don't know."
Reaching across the table, Doyle patted Wesley's hand. "How about we work on making sure Angel, you
and me are all happy and then we can come back to that question?"
Wesley felt a smile tugging at his lips. "It really doesn't seem fair, you know."
"Of course not," Doyle replied, then paused and asked, "Er, what exactly?"
"That you're capable of being so bloody cheerful all the time." Wesley hoped that his tone took any potential
sting out of the words.
"I'm not really." Doyle seemed to stop and think about that for a moment. "Okay, maybe I have been since I...
came back. But that's not necessarily... It must be the first flush of a new relationship, as well as the, y'know,
breathin' thing."
"So you're not expecting a... breakdown?"
"I haven't penciled it into my schedule."
"You're a better man than I am," Wesley said ruefully, just as the waitress appeared with their
sandwiches. She gave Wesley a look of such horror that he started to laugh, and couldn't stop.
"I beat him at darts," Doyle told the woman, with a wink and a grin, which mollified her somewhat. After
she left, Doyle shook his head, still smiling. "We're going to have to leave her a big tip for serving what I'm
sure she thinks are a couple of lunatics. Well... one lunatic and his very sympathetic lady companion."
"I'll never be able to eat here again." Wesley tried to stop laughing and didn't quite succeed.
Doyle watched him fondly. "You should do that more often."
"That's..." He chuckled again, but it was more sober now. "Cordelia used to say that too."
"She was right."
Wesley looked over at Doyle. "Thank you."
Doyle gave him a bright, wide, smile. "Any time."
"In any case, I'm supposed to be feeding you," Wesley said, pointing to the sandwich on Doyle's plate,
"and cheering *you* up."
Obediently Doyle picked up the sandwich, though he rolled his eyes a little. "You got a plan to do that?"
"Not really," Wesley admitted.
"Well seeing you laugh isn't a terrible way to start."
Wesley smiled self-consciously. "I was hoping for something simpler," he said. "Although I suppose
expecting you to be as pleased with new clothes and cosmetics as Cordelia would have been might
be too much to expect."
And that caused Doyle to laugh. "I don't think anyone could be as pleased as Cordelia about new clothes
and cosmetics."
"True. Although there's something to be said for being predictable."
"Don't think I've ever been accused of being that," Doyle said around a mouthful of sandwich. "Least
not in any good ways."
Wesley watched him thoughtfully. "I wouldn't say that. You're very good-natured -- almost
predictably so. That's a rare quality."
Doyle seemed to think that over as he ate. "Maybe I've tried being bad-natured and didn't like the
results," he finally said.
Wesley nodded slightly to show that he understood. "It's certainly easier on one's relationships to
be... more positive."
"Ya might want to remember that yourself there."
He moved his own sandwich around on the plate idly, glancing up at Doyle. "I'm trying," he said.
"It's... difficult."
"Not to sound like a book of clichés, but most worthwhile things are." Doyle smiled slightly and nodded
at Wesley's plate. "I don't like to eat alone by the way."
Wesley blinked, then picked up half his sandwich and took a bite. When he'd finished chewing, he
asked, "Have you made a decision about your hair?"
One of Doyle's hands crept up to finger the strands. "I.... Yes," he said, suddenly sounding decisive. "Going
to cut it. And... see about maybe dying it darker. See if I can get it my old shade."
Trying to picture it, Wesley tilted his head to one side slightly. "I think that would look nice. And... I'm sure
Angel will appreciate the change."
"I hope so," Doyle said looking suddenly pensive.
"What happened this morning really bothers you," Wesley said.
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry," Wesley told him. "More importantly, I know Angel is as well. I'm sure it's all going to work out."
"Not if every time he looks at me sets him off again." Doyle shook his head with a frown. "Sorry, I'm just..."
"You're upset... it's completely understandable." Impulsively, Wesley reached across the table and set his
hand over Doyle's. "Angel obviously cares for you a great deal. He'll adjust."
"Yeah, because we all know how good he is at adjusting and letting go of things."
"I know it's frustrating," Wesley said, not knowing what else to suggest and starting to become
convinced that he was just making things worse. "But in this case I really do think he'll come around.
Cordelia was part of his life here in L.A. from the beginning... it's not easy for him to just forget that."
"I don't want him to -- that's the hard part. Cordelia was important to both of us -- all of us," Doyle
quickly corrected, including Wesley.
"Speaking of which, Gunn and Fred have both expressed an interest in meeting you," Wesley said, hoping
this was a good time to change the subject slightly. "Whenever you feel up to it, of course."
That drew the ghost of another smile out of Doyle. "Kinda fun, being the mysterious guy from Angel's
past. I'd like to meet them too."
"They're both very nice. I'm sure you'll get along well."
"How are you getting along with them?" Doyle asked turning the subject back to Wesley. "What with what
you know now?"
"Oh." Wesley looked down at his half-eaten sandwich, any appetite he'd had vanishing. "Well, I can't tell
them, obviously."
Doyle tilted his head as he watched him. "Do you want to?"
He had to think for a moment before he could answer. "No. I think it's better if they don't know. They're
happy the way things are, and it could put Connor in danger if too many people knew, and..." He sighed.
"I don't know. Maybe I'm just trying to convince myself."
"Maybe you're still trying to adjust," Doyle suggested.
"I don't want to act hastily and do the wrong thing," Wesley said. "So yes, I suppose I am."
"You've got time. No one says you have to make any decisions right away." Doyle grinned. "Well other
than if I'm doing or buying anything really insane today -- those decisions you have to make right away."
"I'm more than willing to offer my opinion, but I certainly don't claim to know much about fashion," Wesley
protested. "Men's or women's."
Doyle grinned. "Considering the comments Cordelia used to make about my clothes, I'm feel fairly safe in
saying she at least was certain I had no taste."
"Perhaps we can ask random strangers for their assistance?"
"I think we may be in trouble," Doyle said, laughing.
Wesley could feel his answering smile reach his eyes. "I think you may be right."
* * *
Doyle stepped out of the hair salon, one hand raised to his now short and darker hair. It certainly was
something he'd never seen on Cordelia, but he wasn't completely sure about it. "It looks okay?" he asked
Wesley, not for the first time.
"It looks fine," Wesley repeated. "Very nice. Would it be helpful if I wrote it on a name tag and wore it on
my shirt?"
"Sorry," Doyle said, chastened, forcing himself to stop fiddling with it. "I guess I'm not as secure in
changing what was Cordelia's look as I thought."
Wesley sighed. "No, I'm sorry. I was trying to be funny. But honestly, despite the fact that I can't imagine
her choosing to get it cut so short herself, I think even Cordelia would approve."
"I hope so." He managed a smile as he admitted, only half-joking, "I have this vision of Higher Power-Cordelia
coming down and smiting me because I ruined her hair."
"I don't think you need to worry." Wesley hesitated, then reached out and touched Doyle's hair, brushing
gentle fingertips over his cheek. "You look wonderful."
Doyle smiled more easily. "When you say it like that I believe you."
"I'll have to say it like that more often," Wesley said. Then, trying to focus on the job at hand, "Now. Clothes?"
"Right. Clothes. Which I wear. And have to go now and buy."
"Would you like to try a department store? Or maybe somewhere smaller?" Wesley looked thoughtful. "What
do you think would be less overwhelming?"
"Good question."
Wesley seemed to consider their options. "Tell me what you have in mind, and perhaps we can narrow it down."
"Some stuff that's less... girly. Jeans, t-shirts, sweatshirts, that sorta thing. Maybe oversized so I don't
look so..." Doyle looked down at himself and all of Cordelia's curves, "y'know."
"But you still want women's clothes? They'd fit better, oversized or no."
"Yeah, s'pose that's the way to go." After all, like it or not, this was his body now and there was little
point in denying it that vehemently.
Wesley nodded and gestured toward their right. "Let's try down here then. I think under the circumstances
that a smaller store or two might be better than a large one. Less chaotic."
"Yeah, probably a good idea." He glanced at Wesley as they walked down the sidewalk. "I owe you a big
thank you for coming with me today. I'm sure that this is far from the top of your list of fun things to do."
"I don't mind," Wesley said, sticking his hands into his pockets and shooting a very brief look in Doyle's
direction. "The company's pleasant."
"Yeah, well after this stop why don't we find something less... girly to do with the pleasant company?"
Wesley's hesitation was so subtle that Doyle might just as easily have missed it. "All right," he said,
then pointed at the store they were nearing. "This one, I thought."
"Looks good." Watching Wesley closely, Doyle continued, "We don't have to do something after if you
don't want. You can just drop me back at the hotel if you've got other plans."
"No, not at all," Wesley said, stepping ahead of Doyle on longer legs and opening and holding the door
for him as if it was automatic.
"You sure?" Doyle stepped into the store, knowing he was going to have to get used to such gallant
gestures and not commenting on it as a result.
"Quite sure. I'd think you'd be the one arguing that it would do me good to spend some time away from
the office."
"Well, yeah, but you don't necessarily have to spend it with me."
"Why wouldn't I want to spend it with you?" Wesley sounded genuinely surprised as they started
moving between the racks of clothing.
"You hesitated when I asked," Doyle said, beginning to wonder if he had imagined it. "Didn't you?"
Wesley shifted some clothes on the nearest rack. "I was surprised," he admitted, although now
he sounded embarrassed.
"That I wanted to spend time with you?"
"I didn't try to claim it was a *rational* response," Wesley said, shrugging slightly.
Doyle clapped a hand to Wesley's shoulder. "Admitting it is the first step," he teased, trying to
lighten the conversation now that he was certain he wasn't forcing Wesley into anything.
"I think you're just trying to postpone the actual shopping." Wesley held out a pair of plain jeans in
what looked like a loose-fitting style.
"If I am, my nefarious plan doesn't seem to be working at all, does it?" He took the jeans from
Wesley and held them up to his body. "Suppose I have to go try 'em on now, huh?"
"I don't know if they're the right size," Wesley said absently, already moving on to another rack. "How do
you feel about khakis?"
"I don't really. But I s'pose I could wear them all right."
"But do you *want* to?" Wesley asked, looking up at him.
"I really don't have any strong feelings about it one way or the other. S'pose I would if it was between
that and walking around giving everyone a free show." Doyle really hoped every article of clothing
wasn't going to be accompanied by that same question, but tried to make the best of it. Grinning at
Wesley, he said, "Just because I've got Cordelia's body, doesn't mean I got her taste for clothes."
Wesley nodded. "I suppose all you can do is try some things on and see what you think."
"Yeah." He looked at the pants he was holding. "Do you have any idea how much I absolutely loathe
clothes shopping?"
"A great deal?" Wesley ventured.
"A very great deal."
"Then I take it your goal for the day isn't to replace your entire wardrobe?"
"Well it is, but..." Doyle sighed. "I'm gonna be spending a lot of time trying on things and fending off
salesladies telling me how great that colour looks on me, aren't I?"
Wesley looked at the tag on the pair of slacks he was holding, then handed them over to Doyle. "Not if I
run interference," he offered. "Let's go find you a changing room and I'll tell any of the shop girls who
come near that you're shy."
That surprised a laugh out of Doyle. "I've been known as many things, but shy's never been one of
them. All right. Let's get this over with."
They found a changing room, and before Doyle had even finished pulling on the pair of jeans he'd
brought in with him, he heard Wesley deflect a sales clerk with a perky American accent. "She's a bit
shy," Wesley said. "Doesn't get out much. Could you do me a favor and let the others know to just
leave us be?"
There was a pause, and then the girl murmured an agreement.
"She's gone," Wesley said in a stage whisper from the other side of the wooden door. "Although I may
have implied that you have mental problems."
"Great. She's probably gone to call the men in white coats for me then."
"No, she just looked a bit nervous," Wesley said. "I'd imagine most of the people who shop here are
grateful for the attention."
"Yeah, well the whole point of this outing is to get things that *don't* draw attention." As he spoke, Doyle
changed into the jeans and one of the t-shirts he'd picked up. Then stared at himself in the mirror.
Even with the short hair and baggier clothes that didn't show off his current body's curves so much, he
still looked unmistakably like a girl. Guess he was just going to have to give up the fight on shoving the
gender line back over to where he was more used to it being.
Still, he looked less like Cordelia and more like... some close female relative of hers with less
fashion sense.
He didn't realize how long he'd been silent until he heard Wesley ask, "Any luck?"
Opening the door, he stepped out so Wesley can see him. "What do you think?"
Wesley looked him over appraisingly, then nodded. "If you're trying to look a bit less feminine, I think
you're on the right track. Are you comfortable?"
"Yeah. Jeans and t-shirts -- not exactly torture devices."
"Good." Wesley presented him with a second pair of khakis -- the first ones were still inside on a
hook -- and a shirt with oddly cut sleeves. "Try these? I think they might work as well."
Doyle took the proffered clothes with a grin. "You're scarily good at this."
"Actually, Angel's the one who..." Wesley coughed slightly behind a closed fist. "Yes. Well. I suspect
he'd be aiming for the more feminine things, perhaps."
Remembering Angel's reaction to his trying on some of Cordelia's sexier clothes that morning,
Doyle shook his head. "I don't think so, not in my case."
Wesley stepped forward and touched Doyle's cheek slightly. It was a careful brush of fingertips that
gave the impression of being casual, but something about the look in Wesley's eyes made it clear to
Doyle that he was being anything but. "Angel's issues aren't about you," he said gravely. "They're
about Cordelia. Don't give them the power to make you doubt what he feels for you."
Doyle stared at Wesley for a long moment, the intensity in the man's blue eyes pulling him in. "You
really believe in Angel, don't you?"
"I..." Wesley dropped his gaze and his hand, and when he glanced up at Doyle again he looked
almost embarrassed. "I suppose so. But that's not really the point."
"Maybe not." Doyle grinned and patted Wesley's cheek in turn. "But it's nice to know I'm not the
only one."
Wesley's answering grin flashed across his face quickly. "You're supposed to be trying on clothes," he
pointed out.
"Yeah." Doyle turned to go back into the changing room.
An hour later he'd bought a small selection of clothes he thought made him look a little bit less...
Cordelia-like, and they walked back to Wesley's car. Upon reaching it, Wesley unlocked the passenger
side door and opened it for Doyle, then stood there holding it like he was waiting for him to get in.
"You've really got this gentleman thing pretty ingrained, huh?" Doyle observed,
grinning at Wesley as he said it to show it really wasn't a problem.
Wesley blinked like he hadn't even realized what he'd done until just then. "So it would seem," he said,
stepping back. "Feel free to remind me not to do this sort of thing, if you'd rather I didn't."
"Nah, it's okay." Doyle stepped into the car. "I s'pose it's just something I
need to get used to. Besides I wouldn't want to interfere with all that
chivalry."
Some nameless emotion crossed over Wesley's face, then he nodded and shut the door for Doyle
before going around the front of the car and getting in behind the wheel. "So. Any thoughts about
the rest of the afternoon?" He glanced at Doyle apologetically. "And... I told Angel I'd check in with
him at some point, let him know you're all right."
Doyle snorted. "Yeah, because contacting me directly would never occur to him."
"He knows he behaved badly," Wesley said. "I think he wanted to give you some space."
"More like he wanted some space for himself."
"You think he's being selfish."
"What?" Doyle asked surprised. The thought had never occurred to him. He shook
his head. "No. Selfish has never been a word that comes readily to the mind
where Angel's concerned. This isn't selfish so much as... terror."
Wesley put the keys in the ignition but didn't start the car. "You're angry because he's afraid?"
Was he? Doyle examined his feelings, trying to figure out exactly what they
were. "I'm angry because he ran," he finally decided. "I can understand being
scared -- this isn't exactly a picnic for me either -- but he ran. I can't."
"And you wouldn't even if you could," Wesley observed.
"Yeah, probably not." Doyle had learned the hard way that didn't work after all.
"Still, there'd be times when I was tempted," he admitted, shaking his head with
a smile.
"That's entirely understandable." Wesley reached out and patted his shoulder. "Well then. More shopping?
Or would you like to go have coffee somewhere and talk? I'm at your disposal. Whatever you'd like to do."
"I think I'm pretty much all shopped out," Doyle said ruefully. "Though coffee
sounds good?"
Wesley started up the car. "All right. There's a place not too far from here -- a locally owned business. We'll
relax there for a while and then see what strikes your fancy."
"It could be what strikes your fancy," Doyle offered, trying again to draw
Wesley out. "This doesn't have to be all about me."
The smile Wesley gave him was mild, distracted. "But you're the one who's upset. Or who *was* upset.
This *is* about you."
"I was upset. You came, took me out, now I'm just looking forward to spending
some time with a friend."
Pausing the car at the edge of the parking lot and waiting for a break in the traffic, Wesley turned and
looked at him. "Thank you," he said, his voice soft.
"You're welcome," Doyle replied automatically, without really understanding why
he was being thanked. Which was why a few second later he was asking, "For
what?"
"For saying that," Wesley said, pulling out onto the street. "For thinking it."
Ah. Doyle grinned. "Thanks for being it."
"I can say in all honesty that it's been no hardship whatsoever," Wesley told him.
"Even when I was a ghost on your computer?"
"Even then," Wesley agreed. "I won't deny that there was a certain amount of confusion at first, but since
then, well... it's been a pleasure getting to know you." Doyle thought he might be able to detect a tiny flush
on Wesley's cheeks.
"Likewise." He watched Wesley for a moment before observing, "Not easy for you
to admit to that, is it?"
Wesley kept his eyes focused straight ahead, but after a minute or so he said, "No."
Doyle nodded. "Means all the more that you did it then."
He could see Wesley's right hand tighten on the wheel. "I just want you to be happy. Both of you."
"We went over this earlier didn't we? I thought we decided to work on making
sure all three of us were happy, yeah?"
"Yes, you're right," Wesley said.
"Well then. Let's take that as a given and move on to coffee and figuring out
what we both want to do for the rest of the day, shall we?"
Wesley's quick smile, even if Doyle thought it wasn't totally genuine, was enough to make him smile in return.
"All right."
To: Wesley
From: Angel
Hi Wesley.
For all I know you're busy and you aren't going to look at your email, especially if you're
out shopping or whatever, but I wanted to check in. You know, see how things are going.
Is Doyle okay?
Let me know?
Thanks.
- Angel
__________
To: Angel
From: Wesley
Hello Angel,
> For all I know you're busy and you aren't going to look at your email,
especially if you're out shopping or whatever, but I wanted to check
in. You know, see how things are going. Is Doyle okay?
Let me know?
Doyle is fine. We went out for lunch and then did some shopping and now are
having coffee.
He's still not happy about your leaving but I don't think he's sharpening up any
stakes.
> Thanks.
None needed. Spending time with Doyle has been... nice.
Wesley
__________
To: Wesley
From: Angel
Hi Wesley.
> Doyle is fine. We went out for lunch and then did some shopping and now are
having coffee.
He's still not happy about your leaving but I don't think he's sharpening up any
stakes.
"Doyle is fine?" Not to be ungrateful, but I was kind of hoping for some more detail.
I mean... just because he's not planning to stake me doesn't mean he's not pissed off.
Which he has every right to be.
If you felt like reminding him I'm sorry, that would be good.
> > Thanks.
> None needed. Spending time with Doyle has been... nice.
Good. As long as the two of you aren't saying bad things about me behind my back.
Or okay, at least not things I don't deserve.
Thanks, Wesley. I know you just said I didn't need to thank you, but... it means a lot to
me, that you're willing to do this.
- Angel
__________
To: Angel
From: Wesley
Hello Angel:
> "Doyle is fine?" Not to be ungrateful, but I was kind of hoping for
some more detail. I mean... just because he's not planning to stake me
doesn't mean he's not pissed off. Which he has every right to be.
He does still seem to be upset about what happened, but not so much in an angry
way as disappointed.
> If you felt like reminding him I'm sorry, that would be good.
I think it would be best for you to tell him that yourself. It coming from me is
just going to make Doyle feel like you're still trying to avoid him.
> > > Thanks.
> > None needed. Spending time with Doyle has been... nice.
> Good. As long as the two of you aren't saying bad things about me
behind my back. Or okay, at least not things I don't deserve.
Don't worry. We've put off planning the coup until next week.
> Thanks, Wesley. I know you just said I didn't need to thank you, but...
it means a lot to me, that you're willing to do this.
It means a lot to me that you would ask for my help. Especially after...
everything.
Wesley
__________
To: Wesley
From: Angel
Hi Wesley.
> > "Doyle is fine?" Not to be ungrateful, but I was kind of hoping for
some more detail. I mean... just because he's not planning to stake me
doesn't mean he's not pissed off. Which he has every right to be.
> He does still seem to be upset about what happened, but not so much in an angry
way as disappointed.
Yeah, okay. I get that. He's got a right to be disappointed. I shouldn't have freaked out
like that.
> > If you felt like reminding him I'm sorry, that would be good.
> I think it would be best for you to tell him that yourself. It coming from me is
just going to make Doyle feel like you're still trying to avoid him.
He thinks I'm trying to avoid him? I just... it was too much, you know? I was losing it and
I wanted to get out of there before I'd say something else that hurt him. I've done enough
of that already.
But yeah, you're right. I'll tell him myself.
> > Good. As long as the two of you aren't saying bad things about me
behind my back. Or okay, at least not things I don't deserve.
> Don't worry. We've put off planning the coup until next week.
Ha ha. Very funny.
> > Thanks, Wesley. I know you just said I didn't need to thank you, but...
it means a lot to me, that you're willing to do this.
> It means a lot to me that you would ask for my help. Especially after...
everything.
Well since I've got you reading this and everything -- assuming that you are and it's not
lost in cyberspace somewhere -- can I ask for some advice?
Doyle and I were talking about moving into the executive apartment here at the office --
you know, somewhere new. So I've got a couple of people working on it -- just getting it
into shape. It's already furnished and everything, it just needed... well, the human touch,
I guess. I was thinking about asking Doyle to meet me over here later, once you guys
are done with the shopping and whatever. What do you think?
- Angel
__________
To: Angel
From: Wesley
Hello Angel,
> > He does still seem to be upset about what happened, but not so much in
an angry
way as disappointed.
> Yeah, okay. I get that. He's got a right to be disappointed. I
shouldn't have freaked out like that.
The disappointment seems to stem more from his being the cause of, ah, said
freak out, than you actually doing it.
> > I think it would be best for you to tell him that yourself. It coming
from me is
just going to make Doyle feel like you're still trying to avoid him.
> He thinks I'm trying to avoid him? I just... it was too much, you know?
I was losing it and I wanted to get out of there before I'd say
something else that hurt him. I've done enough of that already.
Well, you've been emailing me and not emailing or calling him. So that does seem
to Doyle like you're trying to avoid him.
> But yeah, you're right. I'll tell him myself.
That will help a great deal I believe.
> > Don't worry. We've put off planning the coup until next week.
> Ha ha. Very funny.
Did you realise that there's actually a place in Wolfram and Hart's year end
review papers for 'number of attempted coups'?
> Well since I've got you reading this and everything -- assuming that
you are and it's not lost in cyberspace somewhere -- can I ask for some
advice?
Doyle and I were talking about moving into the executive apartment here
at the office -- you know, somewhere new. So I've got a couple of
people working on it -- just getting it into shape. It's already
furnished and everything, it just needed... well, the human touch, I
guess. I was thinking about asking Doyle to meet me over here later,
once you guys are done with the shopping and whatever. What do you
think?
I think that is an excellent idea.
Wesley
__________
To: Wesley
From: Angel
Hi Wesley.
> > Yeah, okay. I get that. He's got a right to be disappointed. I
shouldn't have freaked out like that.
> The disappointment seems to stem more from his being the cause of, ah, said
freak out, than you actually doing it.
It's not his fault. Not any more than it's Cordy's, for giving him a way to come back.
No matter how much I might freak out, I'm grateful to have him, you know?
> > He thinks I'm trying to avoid him? I just... it was too much, you know?
I was losing it and I wanted to get out of there before I'd say
something else that hurt him. I've done enough of that already.
> Well, you've been emailing me and not emailing or calling
him. So that does seem
to Doyle like you're trying to avoid him. But he's out with you. How am I supposed to email him? Anyway... I was trying to give
him some space, not avoid him. Trust me to screw it up.
> > But yeah, you're right. I'll tell him myself.
> That will help a great deal I believe.
I hope so. Every time I think there's nothing I can do to make things worse, I find out
I'm wrong.
> > > Don't worry. We've put off planning the coup until next week.
> > Ha ha. Very funny.
> Did you realise that there's actually a place in Wolfram and Hart's year end
review papers for 'number of attempted coups'?
Don't tell me stuff like that, Wes.
Although I guess I should be glad that the word 'attempted' is in there.
> > Well since I've got you reading this and everything -- assuming that
you are and it's not lost in cyberspace somewhere -- can I ask for some
advice?
Doyle and I were talking about moving into the executive apartment here
at the office -- you know, somewhere new. So I've got a couple of
people working on it -- just getting it into shape. It's already
furnished and everything, it just needed... well, the human touch, I
guess. I was thinking about asking Doyle to meet me over here later,
once you guys are done with the shopping and whatever. What do you
think?
> I think that is an excellent idea.
Okay. Except how am I supposed to do that if he's out with you? Ask him, I mean.
- Angel
__________
To: Angel
From: Wesley
Hello Angel,
> > The disappointment seems to stem more from his being the cause of, ah,
said freak out, than you actually doing it.
> It's not his fault. Not any more than it's Cordy's, for giving him a
way to come back. No matter how much I might freak out, I'm grateful to
have him, you know?
I'm certain Doyle knows that, but it can't hurt for you to tell him that again.
It is never a bad thing for someone to tell you how much you are needed and
wanted.
> > Well, you've been emailing me and not emailing or calling him. So that
does seem to Doyle like you're trying to avoid him.
> But he's out with you. How am I supposed to email him? Anyway... I was
trying to give him some space, not avoid him. Trust me to screw it up.
You haven't given him a cell phone yet?
If you wish to email him, do so and let me know. Doyle can check his account
with my palm pilot. But I won't suggest it to him if there is going to be
nothing there for him to find.
> > > But yeah, you're right. I'll tell him myself.
> > That will help a great deal I believe.
> I hope so. Every time I think there's nothing I can do to make things
worse, I find out I'm wrong.
I am quite intimately acquainted with that particular feeling.
> > Did you realise that there's actually a place in Wolfram and Hart's
year end
review papers for 'number of attempted coups'?
> Don't tell me stuff like that, Wes.
Although I guess I should be glad that the word 'attempted' is in there.
I'm not entirely certain if our taking over falls under successful coup or just
change in management.
> > > Doyle and I were talking about moving into the executive apartment
here at the office -- you know, somewhere new. So I've got a couple of
people working on it -- just getting it into shape. It's already
furnished and everything, it just needed... well, the human touch, I
guess. I was thinking about asking Doyle to meet me over here later,
once you guys are done with the shopping and whatever. What do you
think?
> > I think that is an excellent idea.
> Okay. Except how am I supposed to do that if he's out with you? Ask
him, I mean.
Email him. I'll make sure he sees it.
Wesley
__________
To: Wesley
From: Angel
Hi Wesley.
> > It's not his fault. Not any more than it's Cordy's, for giving him a
way to come back. No matter how much I might freak out, I'm grateful to
have him, you know?
> I'm certain Doyle knows that, but it can't hurt for you to tell him that again.
It is never a bad thing for someone to tell you how much you are needed and
wanted.
You're right. Thanks for reminding me.
> > But he's out with you. How am I supposed to email him? Anyway... I was
trying to give him some space, not avoid him. Trust me to screw it up.
> You haven't given him a cell phone yet?
If you wish to email him, do so and let me know. Doyle can check his account
with my palm pilot. But I won't suggest it to him if there is going to be
nothing there for him to find.
No cell phone yet. It's not like he's been leaving the hotel. But you're right, he needs one.
And I'll send him an email as soon as I finish this one to you. Promise.
> > I hope so. Every time I think there's nothing I can
do to make things
worse, I find out I'm wrong.
> I am quite intimately acquainted with that particular feeling.
Wes, I... here's one of those places where I want to say something that will help, and I
have no idea what that might be. Everyone makes mistakes. God knows I have. That
doesn't mean you're not a good person. At the risk of getting mushy, I'm glad you're around.
I'm glad you're my friend.
> > Don't tell me stuff like that, Wes.
Although I guess I should be glad that the word 'attempted' is in there.
> I'm not entirely certain if our taking over falls under successful coup or just
change in management.
Change in management. There, I've said it, and I'm sticking to it.
> > Okay. Except how am I supposed to do that if he's out with you? Ask
him, I mean.
> Email him. I'll make sure he sees it.
Okay, I'm hitting send and then writing email to Doyle.
Thanks, Wes.
- Angel
__________
To: Doyle
From: Angel
Hi Doyle.
Wesley said he'd make sure you got this.
I'm sorry about this morning, but that's not what this is about. I mean, it *is*, but I don't
want to go back and forth where we keep trying to explain and misunderstand each other. It's
too hard like this.
So -- when you're done with your day... when you've done everything you wanted to do
and you think you can stand to look at me again, come to Wolfram and Hart. There's
an elevator to the executive apartment at the back of my office.
I'll be waiting for you.
I love you. Even when I fuck it up, I love you. I need you, and I'm going to do everything
in my power to make sure that you don't get hurt again. Not by me, not by anyone.
- Angel
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