All the Wrong Places - Part 25 Angel sat down and crossed his legs, then wondered if that was too casual. If it made him look... like he didn't care. And that was so far from the truth that he got up again and started pacing. When he heard the sound of the elevator starting up, he had a moment when he wasn't sure what to do with his hands. Jesus, he'd fucked things up so badly that morning. Every part of him was tense at the thought that he might mess them up more. That he wouldn't be able to find the right words. Luckily the elevator was fast and arrived before he could work himself up into any more of a lather. The doors opened and Doyle stepped out. Angel stared. Doyle had obviously not been idle during the day; he seemed to have gone out of his way to lessen any resemblance to Cordelia as much as he could. He was dressed in jeans and a baggy shirt that went a long way toward disguising the feminine curves of his new body. His hair had been cut short and styled into a much more androgynous style, and the color darkened slightly to more closely resemble Doyle's original color. Spotting Angel, Doyle smiled nervously, seeming as jumpy as Angel himself was feeling. "Surprise?" he said uncertainly, holding his arms out a little as if showing off his new look. "Um... yeah." Angel realized he was still staring, and forced himself to blink. "Wow. You look... different." "That was the idea." Doyle looked down at himself, self-consciously raising a hand to touch his hair. "I may still not be me, but it's a damned sight closer. And at least it's not so obviously Cordelia, y'know?" He paused. "Is it okay?" "Yeah! Yeah, it's great!" Angel hastened to reassure him, then wondered if he was going overboard. He didn't know where to put his hands, and finally settled for sticking them in his pants pockets. "It's good. You look really... good." "Yeah?" Doyle grinned, and that made him look even more like himself. "Really?" "Really." Angel took a deep breath, trying to get out the words that he needed to say. "I'm sorry. About this morning. I'm really, really sorry." "So am I," Doyle said, crossing over to where Angel was standing and sliding his arms around Angel's waist. "I was -- Well, I'm not at my best that early." Angel sighed in relief and put his own arms around Doyle, pulling him close. "Hell of a way to wake up," he agreed. "Maybe it's been too long since I tried to do something like this. You know, the relationship thing." "Bout time you tried again then, don't you think?" Doyle asked looking up at him. He put his hands on either side of Doyle's face and just held it, their eyes meeting. It was such a relief every time, seeing eyes that were undoubtedly Doyle's in Cordy's face. "I'll do better," he promised, hoping against hope that he wasn't making a promise he couldn't keep. "Just keep trying," Doyle murmured, not looking away from Angel's gaze. "We'll get it right eventually as long as we keep at it." "I... um..." Unable to resist the temptation, Angel bent and brushed his lips over Doyle's, then let go. "I got you some things." "Yeah?" Doyle grinned. "Other than the new apartment?" Angel nodded. "That was yours anyway. But yeah." He moved over to the side table, where he'd pushed a collection of decorative vases over to one edge to make room for the selection of wrapped gifts, and picked up the heaviest one, then brought it over and offered it to Doyle. Doyle took the bottle-shaped wrapped gift with a crooked grin. "Single malt?" he asked even as he started unwrapping it. Trying to suppress the tiny surge of disappointment, Angel shrugged and grinned. Not like he was any expert at wrapping presents. "Thought it might, you know... still suit your taste buds?" "It better or me and the higher powers are going to be having a discussion. Some pleasures you just don't give up, no matter what body you're in." The smile he shot Angel made him think that Doyle wasn't just talking about the whiskey. "I could get a glass. You want a glass?" "Why don't you get two and join me?" Part of Angel thought maybe him and any kind of substances wasn't such a good idea, considering how he'd managed to screw things up when he'd been perfectly sober, but he nodded and went to get two glasses. When he turned back from the bar with the glasses, he found Doyle settled on the couch, carefully opening the bottle. He went over and stood there awkwardly, not knowing if their earlier hug meant things were okay again or not. Should he apologize again? Doyle looked up and rolled his eyes. "Sit down already; I'm going to get a crick in my neck looking up at you." Still awkward, Angel sat, leaving a good few inches of space between them and trying not to get too distracted by how really luscious the curve of Doyle's thigh looked in the jeans, androgynous or no. When Doyle had opened the bottle, Angel helpfully held out one glass and then the other as the whiskey was poured. Putting the bottle down, Doyle took one of the glasses and held it up for a toast. "To being in it for the long haul?" he asked softly. Angel was spellbound again, staring into Doyle's eyes. "Yeah," he said finally, his voice rough. "For the long haul." Doyle smiled and clinked their glasses together before taking a drink. "Oh yeah," he murmured, obviously savoring it. "That's the good stuff." Tearing his eyes away, Angel took a hurried sip, but the taste of it slowed him down. "Wow." He took another sip, smaller this time, rolling it around in his mouth. "I think we need to buy stock in this stuff." "Won't get any arguments from me." Angel's gaze was on Doyle's lips now. "So it's good? Um... as a present, I mean?" "It's very good," Doyle assured him, taking another drink, then leaning over and kissing him. Oh God, the taste of the whiskey, and those lips... Angel kept waiting for it to seem less amazing, and every time it was just the same. The lust... the love... totally overpowering. Like he'd been in a frozen wasteland for the past months, and had come home to his hearth to get warm. "I love you," he said, reaching for Doyle's free hand and entwining their fingers together. Doyle smiled and looked down at their clasped hands. "That's always good to hear," he said softly. "That's not all, you know." "There's more than you love me?" "What?" Angel frowned, then realized he hadn't said it right. "Um, no. I meant, there's other presents." Doyle paused. "I'm torn between telling you ya didn't have to do that and asking what you got me." Angel felt a grin spread across his face. "You'll have to open them and find out." He gestured over at the side table where the other gifts were still sitting. "Okay, you *really* didn't have to do this," Doyle said, as he reached over and picked up the first package. "But thanks." "Better not say that until you see what they are," Angel said warningly, but without losing the grin. He was pretty sure Doyle was going to like everything. He hoped. "I'm a big proponent of it being the thought that counts, especially if the thought comes with single malt whiskey," Doyle quipped as he unwrapped the small box. "Well yeah, but... I wanted to get you stuff you'd like." Angel leaned back against the back of the couch with one arm hanging over, trying to look more casual than he felt. "I liked the whiskey so you're off to a good start." The paper was off and Doyle opened the box. Angel nervously waited for some kind of reaction. Doyle gave a bark of laughter. "I thought I was supposed to be getting you a watch," he teased, lifting the one Angel had bought him out of the box. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction that was. "Oh. Yeah. I forgot about that. I just thought... you know. It's *almost* jewelry. And it's practical. I didn't think you'd want me to get you, I don't know, earrings or something." "Not the kind Cordelia used to wear at least," Doyle agreed with a grin, sliding the watch onto his wrist. "Thanks." It looked good on his wrist, Angel thought. Kind of chunky, somewhere between masculine and feminine. "So... you like it?" Doyle leaned over and kissed him. "I like it," he said, when he pulled back. "Good." He hesitated, then offered, "If you didn't, it'd be okay to say so. I mean, I'm not saying you *don't* like it, just... I won't figure out what kind of stuff to get you unless I know." "I like it," Doyle repeated, smiling at him. "You really need to learn to take me at my word." "I'm not- " Angel started to protest, then cut himself off. "Okay, yeah, maybe I am. Sorry." He gestured at the other two gifts that were waiting on the table. "Besides," Doyle added, reaching for the next gift, "if you're ever in doubt what to get me, you can't go wrong with the single malt." "You kidding? Cordy'd kill me if I let you destroy her liver." Angel hoped that his wry expression made it clear that he was only partially joking. "You planning on getting me presents often enough that that would be a problem?" "Maybe." Angel watched as Doyle unwrapped the third gift, hoping that this one wasn't going to flop either. Although come to think of it, if Doyle liked this one he'd be three for three, which was pretty good. Doyle pulled out the leather bag that was somewhere between a purse and a satchel. "Fitting me out with all the accessories are ya?" he asked grinning. "I figured you wouldn't want to go around with a wallet in your back pocket," Angel pointed out. "But then I couldn't really picture you with a purse either, so..." Standing up, Doyle slip the strap over his head and settled it on his shoulder. "This is good, I can work with this." It looked familiar, kind of like going back in time to seeing Cordy. Other than the whole long hair/short hair thing. "Helps to be able to carry stuff around. You know... driver's license... credit cards... books... whatever." "Weapons, chains, possibly sex toys," Doyle teased, taking it back off and sitting down beside Angel again, closer than he had been before. Angel made a mental note to have Doyle open the bag later on and wrapped an arm around Doyle's waist, pulling him even closer. With the other hand, he reached up and touched Doyle's hair, letting the shorter strands ruffle through his fingers. "It's nice," he said, as he breathed in the scent of an unfamiliar shampoo. "I like it." "I hoped it would make things easier," Doyle said softly, leaning his head on Angel's shoulder. He sighed and kissed the top of Doyle's head. "I don't know if anything's really gonna make things easier," he admitted. "Other than time, maybe." "It helps me, at least a little, to look into the mirror and see... well, not the face I remember, but at least not so blatantly Cordelia's face." "I know this is hard on you, too," Angel told him. "Heck, it's harder on you than anybody. And I don't... I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to me about it. But sometimes I might just have to... get away. Doesn't mean I don't love you." It made him feel stupid to say it, having admitted that Doyle had the hardest time of all and *couldn't* get away from it, but he was struggling to be honest about how he felt. "I know," Doyle acknowledged, sliding a hand into Angel's shirt to rest against his bare skin. "Can't say I'll ever be happy when you do it, but I understand." The acceptance almost made him feel worse, but Doyle's touch was enough of a distraction to keep Angel from getting bogged down. Instead of answering with words, he tilted Doyle's head and kissed him deeply, his lips encouraging Doyle's to part. Doyle immediately acquiesced and the kiss deepened and lengthened until Doyle finally had to pull away breathless. "Apologizing like that will get you outta a whole lotta trouble." "Be nice if it was that easy," Angel said. He knew if it was up to him they'd just end up fucking right there on the couch, and there were other things he wanted to get settled first, so he gave Doyle another quick kiss and then got up and went to get the last wrapped gift from the side table. "It can be that easy, sometimes," Doyle said, accepting the last package with a smile. "With me at least." Which was more than Angel figured he deserved, but at least he'd learned enough not to say that out loud. He watched nervously as Doyle tore the wrapping paper off the large box. "If you don't like it, we can take it back," he said. Doyle opened the box, pushed the tissue paper aside and froze. Glancing up at Angel he said, "I thought you didn't want me to wear..." "Yeah, well... I was wrong." Angel shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Sort of. I guess... I thought this would really say 'Sorry.' Better than anything else could." Setting the box aside, Doyle got up and wrapped his arms around Angel's neck and kissed him lingeringly. Angel held Doyle tightly, letting his warmth seep in, tasting the faint hint of whiskey still in Doyle's mouth as they kissed. "You sure you want me to put it on?" Doyle asked, when his mouth was released. The lilt in Doyle's voice made it easier to say yes. "Yeah. Long as you don't mind if I take it off you again." Doyle grinned. "I wouldn't have it any other way." He moved away and picked up the box. He gave Angel a teasing smile and started heading for the doorway to the bedroom. "I'll be right back." "Okay." While Angel waited for Doyle to change, he went over and poured himself another drink. It wasn't that he didn't want to see what Doyle looked like in the dress he'd bought -- he did. It was more that he was having such a hard time looking at the curves that had belonged to Cordelia for so long and remembering that it was Doyle in there. When they were talking, when he could look into Doyle's eyes, it was easy. Other times... He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear his lover come back in until Doyle cleared his throat. Though Angel had imagined when he bought the dress what it would look like on Doyle, his imagination had fallen far short of the reality. The dress fit Doyle like a second skin, its short skirt flaring out around his hips in a soft fall of material hinting at the mysteries beneath. Angel had been right; it was the exact same green as Doyle's eyes, a color that seemed to set off the considerable amount of bare skin on display. His eyes kept being drawn to Doyle's legs which seemed longer than ever, framed as they were by the skirt on one end and the matching high heeled shoes on the other. "Hi," he said, in a voice that sounded breathless and awed. "It seems to fit," Doyle said, then smiled wryly and looked down at his chest and the dress' plunging neckline. "More or less." "Less is... good." Angel swallowed, his eyes taking in the outward curve of breast and inward curve of waist. Doyle's smile turned into something heated when he looked back up again. "So you like how it looks?" "Yeah." He was aware of sounding like an idiot, but wasn't sure how to stop. He found himself walking over toward his lover, not stopping until he was just far enough away to still be able to see everything he wanted to look at. "Good." Doyle took a careful step towards Angel, obviously still getting the feel of the heels. Angel moved forward to meet him, catching Doyle around the waist and offering a steadying grip if it was needed, automatically bending his head in toward Doyle's neck and sucking on the skin there very gently. "Mmm," he said. "Perfect." Doyle chuckled, though the sound had a bit of a breathy quality to it. "Guess what they say is true - if ya got it, flaunt it." "You can flaunt it in my direction any time." Angel licked a line from the base of Doyle's throat all the way up to his ear, feeling the delicate thrum of heartbeat just under the skin. "Oh, I can definitely foresee lots of flaunting in my future," Doyle murmured, tilting his head to give Angel better access. Temptation was strong, almost like it was running through his own veins. Angel could smell the blood through the thin layers of skin, could just about taste it. "Don't... flaunt something that's not an option," he forced out, bringing his mouth to Doyle's in a move intended to distract him from his other desire. Doyle kissed him back wholeheartedly, wrapping his arms around Angel's neck and pressing up against his body. All of which helped with the distracting -- Angel felt himself respond instantly to the sweet pressure of Doyle's body against his. He slid his hands down over the small of Doyle's back and then lower, cupping his ass. "Mm," Doyle murmured against his lips, "I can feel how much you like it." Angel kissed him harder, ground his lower body against Doyle's, loving the way they fit together like this. "Love it," he managed to say. "Love *you.*" "Love you too," Doyle replied, his hips moving with Angel's in encouragement. It was amazing how Doyle knew how to move -- as if he'd always been in a woman's body, his instincts were perfect. Angel groaned and lifted Doyle right up off the floor, both hands under the curve of his ass in support, holding him up as they kissed frantically. Doyle laughed into Angel's mouth as he wrapped his legs around Angel's waist for better support. "That vampire strength comes in handy, doesn't it?" "For more things than one," Angel agreed, turning slightly and taking a few steps in the general direction of the bedroom's doorway. "I think this rates as my favorite form of transportation," Doyle said, laughing again and leaning in for another kiss. Angel let Doyle's tongue flicker over his own. "I could offer to carry you around like this all the time," he said, abandoning the journey in favor of pressing Doyle up against the nearest wall. "Ya don't think that might cause talk at all those meetings you go to?" He shrugged. "Maybe people wouldn't notice?" "I think it might be a little hard to miss," Doyle pointed out, squirming against him. "Just like you are right now." Angel used more of his weight to pin Doyle more firmly to the wall, putting a halt to the majority of the squirming. Not that he didn't like it, but... "You think I'm hard to miss?" he asked. "Well, you're hard right now," Doyle pushed his hips more firmly against him to illustrate the point, "and I'm miss you like this. So..." "You keep doing that," Angel said, growling slightly as Doyle flexed his hips again, "and we're not gonna make it to the bedroom." "And that's supposed to deter me?" Doyle asked, doing it again. "So you're saying it'd be okay with you if I fucked you up against the wall?" A full body shiver went through Doyle at that. "I think I could live with that, yeah." Angel slid a hand further down Doyle's thigh, then back up under the edge of the short skirt, finding -- not to his great surprise -- that Doyle wasn't wearing any underwear. "I dunno," he said, mock thoughtfully. "Maybe we shouldn't fuck here until we've decided." "Decided?" Doyle asked, breath catching at the caress of Angel's fingers. "If we're gonna stay." Doyle laughed. "You want me to make real estate decisions right now?" he asked disbelievingly. Before Angel could answer, Doyle kissed him again and then asked, "Do you like it?" "The place?" Angel nibbled his way over to Doyle's ear, then whispered, "As long as you're here, I like it just fine." "Good answer." "What do you think? Could you see us here?" He moved his mouth back to Doyle's, temporarily postponing his reply. Doyle kissed him back whole heartedly, his tongue darting into Angel's mouth and making a thorough exploration." When he pulled back, he asked, "These windows, they're that vampire flame proof glass?" Angel blinked, then nodded. "Whole building's supposed to be fitted with it." "So I could fuck you in sunlight if we stay here." "Hypothetically." Doyle gave him a look that was two parts exasperation and one part affection. "We're gonna work on the stubbornness of yours. But yeah, I can see us here." "You're just saying that because of the sun thing, aren't you." In that moment Angel could barely summon up the energy to care, what with a warm, slightly squirming Doyle pressed between himself and the wall. "Yeah, because living in an apartment that has every possibly conceivable luxury is going to be such a hardship." "There you go using that word 'hard' again," Angel said, punctuating the word with a thrust of his hips. "I'm gonna end up thinking you only want me for my body. Well, and my apartment. *Our* apartment." "Our apartment." Doyle grinned. "I like the sound of that." "Me too." Angel leaned in and rested his forehead against Doyle's, looking into his eyes. "Don't let me screw this up, okay? I don't want to screw this up." One of Doyle's hands came up and rested against Angel's cheek. "You're not going to screw this up. I promise." Angel wanted to say something else, but he didn't know what. Didn't know how to put what he was feeling into words. He just... wanted Doyle to put his arms around him and not let go. Ever. He wanted to lose himself in Doyle. Doyle leaned in and pressed a light, almost chaste kiss to Angel's lips. "I love you." He closed his eyes, gentling his hold on Doyle. "Love you too." "As long as we both keep that in mind, we won't screw this up," Doyle told him. Angel almost laughed. "I think you're underestimating my ability to screw things up." "I think you're underestimating my stubbornness in keeping you now that I have you." "Well... good. I mean, I like you being stubborn about that." Doyle grinned. "Like it or hate it, just as long as you learn to accept it. I'm not letting you go, so you're just going to have to live with me lovin' you." He couldn't think of any actual word response to that, so he just kissed Doyle again, harder this time, letting himself crush Doyle against the wall the way he wanted to, not quite able to make himself hold back. Doyle didn't protest or complain; in fact he tightened his arms around Angel, pulling him even closer and kissing Angel back with just as much enthusiasm. Angel thought, just briefly, that this was like playing with fire. A little too self-destructive, but somehow, something that you couldn't quite resist. He slid two fingers under and around Doyle's thigh to the juncture of his legs and teased him roughly, loving the way it felt and wanting nothing more than to fuck him right here, hard and fast and careless. Doyle moaned against his lips, then dropped his head back against the wall, mouth slightly open to gasp for air. "Oh yeah," he muttered, squirming against Angel's fingers. "Feel so good..." That was all the encouragement Angel needed -- he pinned Doyle to the wall with one hip while his other hand fumbled desperately with the front of his own pants, then shoved the short skirt up further. "Jesus," he muttered, as he got his hand around his cock. "Want you." "You got me," Doyle replied, still squirming against him in a way that was driving Angel even crazier. "Forever." Control completely eroded, Angel kissed Doyle so hard he could feel his lip split, could taste the blood on his tongue. He grabbed Doyle's other thigh and pushed inside him, growling when he felt the heat surround him. He swallowed the noises that Doyle made, feeling the tiny, almost imperceptible tremors that went through Doyle's body as Angel sank deeper into him. There wasn't any thought to spare for gentleness -- Angel was in a place where pretty much all he cared about was how things felt. How it felt to fuck Doyle, how it felt to have Doyle move against him, how it felt to scrape his fangs -- and he hadn't realized he was in game face until right then -- over the thin soft skin of Doyle's throat. Doyle whimpered and arched his neck in response, a mute invitation. Angel rubbed his mouth across the vein he wanted so desperately to bite, thrust again into Doyle, even harder, and then sank his teeth deep into fragile flesh, the hot rush of blood into his mouth heady, intoxicating. A sound half yell, half moan, came from Doyle's mouth, coming the second Angel's fangs had slid into his throat. Angel's own body was on auto-pilot. He pounded into Doyle at the same time he drank from him, swallowing mouthfuls of blood, then tore the front of the dress Doyle was wearing open and licked an escaped trail of blood down across fine skin. "Angel..." Doyle gasped, shudders of pleasure going through his body under the onslaught. The sound of his own name brought Angel up short -- he didn't stop moving, but he managed to wrench himself back to reality. He shifted Doyle's weight against the wall slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, and shook off game face. He couldn't get a hand between them in the position they were in, so instead he started circling his hips as he thrust, trying to give Doyle as much stimulation as he could. He could feel Doyle's excitement ratcheting upwards, in the way Doyle's breath was catching more, on how the tremors were getting longer and more apparent. Even his scent seemed heavy with his pleasure. "So good," Angel told him, moving faster, feeling his own orgasm gathering low in his balls. "Angel," Doyle gasped again, seemingly unable to think any more beyond that. And if hearing his own name had grounded Angel before, it did the opposite now, shattering him completely as he came, shuddering and gasping Doyle's name. Doyle's soft wordless cry signaled that Angel wasn't alone in that. He had to stop moving eventually though, and when he did, he brought his mouth to the wound on Doyle's throat and nuzzled it carefully, licking the torn flesh. The blood flow had slowed to a sluggish trickle, and it still tasted... amazing. Like Doyle and Cordy rolled into one. "You okay?" he murmured softly. "Okay?" Doyle laughed, the sound a caress on Angel's hearing. "That might be a tad bit of an understatement." "I could show you the bed?" Angel offered, kissing the corner of Doyle's mouth and leaving a tiny smear of blood there, which he quickly licked off. "I mean, I guess you already *saw* it, but..." "Bed would be good," Doyle said, saving him from babbling more. Of course, that left the problem of how exactly they were going to get there, what with Angel's pants around his hips and, well... Angel took a step backward away from the wall and heaved Doyle up and over his shoulder, then yanked his pants up with the other hand and strode, on legs that were only a little bit shaky, into the bedroom. "We really need to work on your idea of romantic transportation," Doyle complained good-naturedly from his upside down position. "Weren't you the one saying you'd like me to carry you around all the time?" Angel stopped at the edge of the large bed and then tossed Doyle down onto it with a grin. Doyle bounced up a good couple of inches when he landed before settling on the mattress. "Good springs," he commented. "New sheets too," Angel pointed out unnecessarily, then felt his grin falter slightly. "It's okay? I mean... you really want to stay?" "Of course I want to stay. Stop being an idiot and get down here," Doyle told him. Angel pulled the sheets down -- he hadn't turned them down earlier, had thought maybe it would have looked like he was a little too sure of himself -- and waited for Doyle to climb between them before getting comfortable. He put an arm around Doyle's waist and licked very gently at his throat again. "Does it hurt a lot?" "It doesn't hurt at all." Doyle raised his chin, giving Angel better access. "Though I can say it does if it means you keep doing that." There was a gnawing guilt in his chest, because he damn well shouldn't have just let himself do that -- not to Doyle -- but he concentrated on the last lingering taste of the blood on his tongue, and on continuing to lick the spot as carefully as he could, since Doyle did seem to be enjoying it. "Don't want to hurt you," he said softly. "I don't want to be hurt," Doyle replied, bringing a hand up to stroke at the short hairs at the nape of Angel's neck. "I'm not a masochist, Angel. If you do something I don't like, I'm going to speak up." Angel closed his eyes as a little sound escaped him at the touch. "Yeah. I know." He relaxed a little bit, resting his chin gently on Doyle's shoulder. "Have you heard me complaining so far?" "No." But then, until today he'd managed to keep from biting Doyle. Angel sort of figured they'd entered a whole new territory. "So, let's review. I haven't complained, and I'd speak up if you did something that I didn't like. What conclusion can we draw from these two facts?" Angel swallowed and thought. "That... at some point I'll find out that I did something you don't like, but not until after I've already done it?" "Okay, that would be the wrong answer." Doyle sighed. "Angel, two and two do not equal five. Stop extrapolating and take what I tell you at face value." "Wait. Two and two isn't five? Since when?" Angel tried to grin apologetically. "Angel, do you trust me?" He blinked, then hitched himself backward a few inches so that he could really look at Doyle's face. "You think I don't trust you?" Doyle shook his head. "It's not about what I think -- it's about what you think." "I trust you." It was an automatic answer, but there wasn't any doubt in Angel's mind that it was true. A small smile touched Doyle's lips and he raised a hand to lay against Angel's cheek. "Then trust me not to let you hurt me." It wasn't that simple, and never would be. But there was no point in getting into it. "I trust you," he repeated, and pulled Doyle in close. "Not to mention that whole love thing." "The whole love thing is a pretty big thing not to mention," Doyle commented, letting Angel fit them together. "Yeah." Angel reached up and touched Doyle's new shorter hair again, liking the way the short spiky bits felt against his palm. "Mm," Doyle murmured, smiling. "Feels good." Angel kept doing it. "It's different," he said, then added quickly, "I like it. It's... you." Then he slid his hand down to finger the torn dress. "Guess I liked this a little *too* much." Doyle chuckled. "You can buy me a new one. And rip that one off me too." He couldn't say that the idea didn't appeal to him. "Sounds like you're gonna spend an awful lot of time without wearable clothes." "Leave me a few pairs of jeans and a couple of shirts and I'll be fine," Doyle said with a shrug. Angel kissed him, sliding one hand down to cup Doyle's ass. "What if I said I liked you naked?" "Here in the apartment? I'd say I could live with that." "I just... can't stop thinking about you," Angel said honestly, feeling a little bit embarrassed about it. "All the time. It's like you're everything." A slow delighted smile spread across Doyle's face. "I don't think I've ever been anyone's everything before." "Yeah. It's... kind of scary, actually." Since he seemed to have slipped into this mood of actually saying some of the stuff he thought about but didn't say, might as well run with it. "I'm scared I'm gonna fuck this up. And... I know you said you won't let me. But..." "But you think you're going to be more talented at fucking it up than I am at preventing you." Angel hesitated, then admitted, "Well... yeah." Doyle nodded. "I'll just have to work harder to convince you." "It might just take time," Angel said. "And, you know... stuff like today. Me screwing up and you forgiving me." "Gotta tell ya, man. You're awfully good at apologizing." That dragged a little smile from Angel, no matter how reluctant. "I try." "You had me at the single malt, Angel. Really." "So are you telling me the dress wasn't necessary?" Angel slid his hand down Doyle's thigh and then back up under the fabric, caressing bare skin. Doyle shifted, making it easier for Angel to touch all he wanted. "I didn't say that. Considering the response it got..." "You can get a response like that from me any time you want," Angel said. "Doesn't matter what you're wearing -- or, you know, not wearing." He pushed the dress up higher, pressing his own thigh in between Doyle's legs. "I'm getting that impression," Doyle all but purred. "Let's stay here tonight." Angel licked Doyle's lower lip. "Like... a fresh start. Can we?" "I'd like that." Doyle smiled shyly. "Today's been all about making fresh starts for me, this just finishes the picture." Angel kissed him, long and slow, at the same time reaching behind Doyle and undoing the zipper down the back of the dress. "This is all ripped," he explained between kisses. "What a shame. It'll have to come off." "Yeah, that's a real pity." Doyle's grin had turned wicked. "Think ya can help me with that?" "Guess I'll have to," Angel said, heaving a fake sigh. He pulled the dress over Doyle's shoulder and then wriggled the material down over curved hips, bending to press a gentle kiss onto Doyle's stomach. "You can be my personal dresser if you want. Y'know, if you have any time left over from running a formerly evil law-firm, and brooding." Angel tossed the dress to the floor and trailed his tongue up Doyle's inner thigh. "I can think of things I'd rather do than dress you." "Personal undresser then?" "Won't leave me much time for brooding," Angel said thoughtfully. "From where I'm sitting, that is just a bonus, y'know." He flicked his tongue over the spot he knew would bring Doyle the most pleasure. "You're not sitting, you're lying down," he said. "Not that I'm complaining." Doyle caught his breath at the touch. "Metaphorically sitting," he explained. Angel did the exact same thing with his tongue again, then lifted his head. "Uh huh." "You can keep doing that," Doyle told him. "I won't stop ya." "Oh," Angel said innocently. "I thought you wanted to talk about, you know. Metaphors." "Angel," Doyle growled. Just as innocently, Angel blinked. "You don't want to talk?" "Don't make me spank you." Angel chuckled, unable to help himself, then slid his tongue over the same spot again. "Oh yeah, I'm worried," he said against Doyle's inner thigh. "What -- you don't think I can take you?" Doyle managed to sound breathless and outraged all at once. "Let's just say I don't want to find out tonight," Angel said, applying his tongue once more. "I... I love you. I feel like I need to keep saying that." "There's..." Doyle gasped, "...worse things to be repeating." Angel wasn't sure if it was so easy to focus on Doyle because he genuinely wanted him to feel amazing -- which was true, wasn't it? -- or because he was trying to hide from the stuff that was going on inside his own head. Either way, he decided Doyle deserved the best... or, at least, the best he was capable of giving, even though that would never be enough. But his focus now seemed to be enough to finally distract Doyle from his endless chatter, as he gave up talking in favor of gasps and whimpers and other sounds of pleasure. Sliding both hands underneath Doyle's ass and lifting him slightly, Angel took advantage of the new position to push his tongue deeper. It meant he couldn't talk either, but heck, he liked it that way. Doyle's hands came down and threaded into Angel's hair, holding him in place and mutely asking for more. Which he was perfectly happy to give. Everything he had, which okay, wasn't a hell of a lot at this point, but this, at least, he was good at. This he could do. Angel kneaded Doyle's ass and made a little growling sound of pleasure as he continued to fuck Doyle with his tongue. It didn't take long before Doyle was trembling beneath him, on the edge of coming. Angel thought about pulling back, teasing Doyle, making him wait -- for about three seconds. The temptation to continue, to hear the little sounds that Doyle made when he came, to feel all of those muscles tense up... it was too strong. Less than a minute more and he was getting his wish; Doyle was coming with Angel's name on his lips. Angel waited until the last of the shudders had died down, then moved up to kiss Doyle. "So what'd'ya think?" "About what?" Doyle asked lazily, still seeming dazed. "I thought that was my audition. For the undressing you position." Angel paused. "Um, well no, undressing you was the audition. I think this was the visit to the casting couch." "Oh." Doyle stretched and yawned. "I think we'd be bringing you back for a second interview." "What!?" Angel pushed himself farther up onto one elbow and looked at Doyle with mock outrage. "That wasn't enough to convince you?" "Maybe I just want you to be motivated for a repeat performance." Doyle paused. "Not necessarily right this second." "If you're not careful, I'll eliminate the need for you to have a personal undresser altogether," Angel warned him, leaning down and nipping at the soft skin of Doyle's shoulder. "Ow," Doyle said with absolutely no heat behind it. He wrapped his arms around Angel, wriggling around to get more comfortable. Angel let him move into whatever position was good, idly enjoying the faint lingering scent of blood in the air. "So... are you okay? I mean... other than having to deal with me and the stupid things I do?" "Yeah." Doyle smiled at him. "I'm okay. Really. Actually, better than okay, right now. Kinda tingling." "And things with Wes? They were okay too?" "Yeah. Wes is a good guy." Angel got another smile, this one combined with a knowing look. "You asked him to keep an eye on me, didn't you?" "No?" Doyle just continued to look at him knowingly. "Okay, yeah." Angel sighed and pulled Doyle closer. "Was that another wrong thing to do?" "Where Wes is concerned, it's probably the best thing you could have done." He had to think about that for a minute before he could figure out what Doyle was talking about. "Oh... you mean it showed I trust him." "Yeah. Not that he said anything, mind you, but you could see the difference." "Well... good." Angel relaxed a little bit more, his fingers giving Doyle's shoulder a quick squeeze. "So do you... you know... talk about me?" "What do you think?" Doyle asked with a teasing smile. "I think I shouldn't ask questions I don't want to know the answer to." But then, he kind of did want to know. Just, only if it was good stuff. "It was nothing bad," Doyle assured him, in that uncanny way he had of almost reading Angel's mind. "Uh huh. I'm sure you spent a lot of time talking about how I was such a good guy, walking out on you the way I did." Angel wasn't really upset -- he was more fishing for something that'd make him feel better, because God knew the last thing he wanted was to be imagining Doyle and Wes having some kind of conversation about how shitty he was. Doyle kissed him gently. "We spent a lot of time talking about how you take things so much to heart and still think you have to shoulder all that hurt alone." "You don't think I have the shoulders for it?" Angel asked, trying to keep his tone light. "I think," Doyle leaned up on his elbows and looked directly in Angel's eyes, "that you forget that you have people who are willing and able to share the burden." Angel's heart did something funny -- sank and lifted at the same time, maybe. "I'm just... I don't..." Jesus, this talking thing was gonna kill him. Um, again. Doyle kissed him again. "I know. That's something we gotta be working on." "Me being able to finish a sentence?" he asked ruefully. "Sharing." "Oh. Right." He found himself mesmerized by Doyle's eyes, reaching out to cup his face. "Don't suppose there's some kind of manual on that?" "Not that I know of." Doyle leant into Angel's touch. "Maybe we can write one some day." "I think that'd require knowing something about the subject," Angel pointed out. "That'd be more a 'you' kind of thing." Doyle grinned. "Not when I get done with you." "You have enough faith for both of us, don't you." The grin faded into a much more serious look. "I do my best." "Yeah -- you always do." Angel pulled him back down into an embrace. "One of the reasons I love you." "See? We've already got you admitting that." Doyle's grin was back. "It's a good start." Of course, none of it totally got rid of the vague feeling of terror that this was going to end badly, no matter how good the start was. But Angel figured he'd better keep his mouth shut about that. Time to change the subject. "So... did you go see the apartment?" "Yeah." More hesitant now, "What did you think?" "That we should've had someone go and explain to Dennis what had happened before I walked in." Doyle grimaced. "He thought I was Cordelia at first." "Shit," Angel said. "What happened?" "Oh not much. I just had to dash his hopes into little bitty pieces." "Poor guy. Um, can you call a ghost a 'guy'?" Belatedly, Angel realized that technically he wasn't even sure he could call *Doyle* a guy anymore. "Was he really upset?" "He didn't throw dishes around or make the walls bleed, but yeah, he was upset." Doyle moved closer as he spoke. "To his credit, Dennis seemed happy to know I was back, but he really cared for Cordelia." "Yeah. We all did." Angel sighed. "Do. You know." "Yeah." He looked thoughtful. "Wonder if higher powers get days off. Maybe she could visit him." That sounded okay, as long as there weren't any surprise visits when Angel was around. Although on the other hand, the fact that he was going to be looking at Doyle, who looked like Cordy, every day made it seem kind of stupid to be worried about her *actually* showing up. "The apartment okay though? I mean, other than the Dennis thing?" "Pretty much. Looks just like it did when I was last there." "Is that okay? Because we can change it around however you want. Redecorate." "That would be pretty rude to Dennis, don't you think? It's his home, after all." Angel shrugged a little bit. "Well... I guess you could see what he thought. Maybe he'd like a change. Not like he can go to the hardware store and buy paint, right?" Doyle shrugged. "It's okay the way it is. Not like I'm going to be spending a lot of time there anyway." He paused and then looked up at Angel. "Am I?" "Hey, it's totally up to you. As long as you have a place to go that's safe, in case something happened, I'm happy. You can let it collect dust bunnies for the next six months if you want, far as I'm concerned." Angel could feel the tension drain out of Doyle. "Well, might have to stop by a bit more often than that, to visit Dennis," Doyle told him, "but I'm planning on sleeping here." "Good." Angel kissed him, then reached for his hand and got up, pulling Doyle along with him gently. "Come over here and see the view -- it's incredible." "I'd have to agree," Doyle said, but his eyes were focused solely on Angel. Angel frowned. "No, I meant..." He turned Doyle around to face the windows, where they could both see the night lights of LA in all their glory. Moving behind Doyle, Angel wrapped his arms around him. "There. See?" "That's nice too. But I think I like the one I was looking at before." "Plenty of time for that," Angel said gruffly, touched and uncomfortable at the same time. Doyle's hands ran lightly over Angel's arms where they encircled him. "Can we leave the blinds open?" "Sure." The response was so automatic that it took him a minute to realize what they were talking about. "Um, you mean for now, right?" "And for the morning." "But..." Angel tightened his grip on Doyle. "Yeah. Okay." Doyle turned in his arms to face him. "So what can I give you as positive reinforcement?" He hugged Doyle close, only partially because it was easier than looking him in the eye. "Distract me when the sun comes up?" "Can do that." He heard the grin in Doyle's voice. "Could do some distracting now too if you'd like." Angel slid a hand down to Doyle's ass and caressed it, unable to stop himself from grinning. "Were you always like this?" "Like what? Horny? Well... yeah." Angel's grin widened. "Damn. Just think of all the sex we missed out on." "Guess that means we have a lot to make up." "Guess it does." Jeez, he'd gone too long without this -- without the touching, the heat. "God you feel good." "You're not so bad yourself." Doyle's grin turned truly wicked as he dropped to his knees in front of Angel. Angel closed his eyes and let his head tilt back slightly, waiting for Doyle to touch him. But Doyle didn't touch him right away; instead he leaned in and breathed warm air over Angel's cock. *That* made him twitch. "Do that again." "What, breathing?" Doyle asked, the air formed around the words trailing over Angel again. He swallowed heavily. "Yeah. That." "I can keep doing that for a while then." "You'd better," Angel said, meaning breathing in general and not just the sex thing. Although that was good too. Doyle grinned up at him. "Going all forceful on me, are ya?" "Do I need to?" "Depends," Doyle said, cocking his head to the side as he regarded Angel thoughtfully, all the while making sure every exhalation of air brushed over Angel's skin. Angel shivered. "Depends on what?" he asked, trying to stay focused. "On what kind of games we're going to play. You going to go all broody on me later if I let you go all forceful now?" Oh, right. They really were talking about sex. "I would have thought that fucking you up against the wall and then, you know..." Angel reached out and brushed the tip of one finger gently over the mark on Doyle's throat. "Would have been enough forceful for you." Doyle grinned. "It's a good start." Angel was starting to wonder if Doyle was just teasing him. "Are you serious?" "That was one of the hottest things it's ever been my pleasure to experience," Doyle replied enthusiastically. "No, I'm not saying it wasn't good..." Jesus, should they really be having this conversation with Doyle still on his knees? "I just mean... it shouldn't go any further than that. Right?" Doyle considered. "Depends on what you mean by going any further. I don't mind a few power games; you want to get a little rough or a little demanding, I can get behind that." The grin was back. "Might just turn the tables on you some day too." "I'll bet you'd like to," Angel said, raising his eyebrows. "Wouldn't say no," Doyle agreed. "But, give me a bit more time to get used to the new model I'm driving." "Happy to help." Angel glanced from Doyle's mouth to his own erection meaningfully. "You want me to do something more than breathe on ya, now?" Angel traced Doyle's bottom lip with his thumb. "Wouldn't say no," he echoed. With another wicked grin, Doyle leaned forward and slowly slid Angel's cock all the way into his mouth. Angel groaned and let his head tip back again. The heat of Doyle's mouth... the way his tongue slid across already-sensitized skin... "Why did you think you needed more time to get used to this body?" he asked faintly. Doyle didn't answer, his mouth being full. Instead he slowly began to bob his head, sliding his lips up and down Angel's length. Almost unable to help himself, Angel curled one hand around the back of Doyle's head, not really holding him there, just... encouraging. The next time Doyle moved forward, Angel thrust, just a little bit. He felt hypnotized at the sight of Doyle sucking him off, drugged with the unreality of it. Little too much unreality. "Look at me," he said. Green eyes immediately flicked upwards to meet his own, though Doyle didn't stop moving. "Doyle," Angel said shakily, reassurance to both of them in one word, and thrust again to meet Doyle's movement, still a bit hesitant. Controlled. Doyle encouraged him with his gaze, and with his mouth. But he wanted to fuck Doyle hard -- harder than he could fuck his mouth without hurting him. Angel slid his fingers into Doyle's hair, stopping him, and then pulled back and dropped to his own knees. Kissed Doyle like a drowning man gasping for air, all lips and tongue and teeth. Doyle kissed him back with just as much abandon, bracing himself on Angel's shoulders as Angel ravished his mouth. Still kissing, Angel reached down and slid two fingers in between Doyle's legs, where everything was still slick and wet from before, then let one finger trail back even further, into territory he'd barely even thought about exploring yet. "Love you," he said against Doyle's lips. "Love you too," Doyle murmured, shifting so he was pushing into Angel's touch. "Want you." God, did he. Wanted to just get inside all that heat and never come out. "I'm right here," Doyle replied, kissing Angel again. "Think it's safe to say ya got me." Angel closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of Doyle's hands on his shoulders seeping in. "I love you," he repeated, then pushed Doyle back onto the floor and slid inside him. "Yeah," Doyle gasped, his grip tightening on Angel's shoulders. "I'm getting that impression." He pulled back and thrust in again slowly, drawing it out. The light from the table lamp near the bed fell across Doyle's face, highlighting the now-short wisps of hair and their new color. With his weight resting on his forearm, Angel moved back, not thrusting in, just waiting. Looking at Doyle. It felt like he'd never get enough of looking at him. Doyle looked back, green eyes serious, until he grinned suddenly. "Angel?" "Yeah?" Angel's other hand was holding onto Doyle's hip, just lightly, thumb tracing over the skin. "Your attention seems to be wandering." Angel grinned. "Guess I got distracted." "When you're in the middle of fucking me?" Doyle's eyes sparkled with humor. "I think I should be insulted." "You're all kinds of things that start with 'I', aren't you. Incorrigible... impatient..." Still, Angel pushed in again, slowly. "Incredible... irreplaceable..." Doyle added. "Now you're just showing off," Angel said, thrusting in harder. Doyle gasped a little. "Hey, when you got it, flaunt it, right?" Angel pushed deeper, rocking his hips. "You've definitely got it." "Yeah." Doyle's voice was getting a little breathless. "I do now. Got you." God, Doyle felt so *good* and the way his accent put a lilt to his words was just... familiar. Probably another reason why being with him felt right. Angel leaned down and licked one of Doyle's nipples, then scraped across it with his teeth. "Is it cheating if I use your own words back at you?" "Depends on the words." "Incredible?" Angel murmured, continuing to thrust. "Because you are." "Oh." Doyle pretended to think about it, the pretense marred by his obvious enjoyment of what Angel was doing. "That's okay then." "And irreplaceable... that's a good one too." "Does have ...a nice ring to it." "Yeah, but if we're going for *sounds,* I'd rather hear," Angel thrust at a slightly different angle and grinned as Doyle obligingly made a high pitched noise, "that one." "Those ya have to earn," Doyle gasped out as Angel thrust again, which caused his 'earn' to spiral up into that noise again. Angel could feel his balls tightening and tried to slow down his movements, wanting to prolong being inside Doyle as long as he could. "*God* you feel good." "Yeah, I do." Doyle grinned even as he gasped out again. "'Specially when ya do *that*." "Don't wanna stop," Angel said, mostly to himself. "Just... another minute..." Doyle arched up and gave a soft moan. "Love you..." Or maybe not even another minute, because feeling Doyle's body arch under his shot Angel's control all to hell. He thrust jerkily, at this point thinking he'd be lucky to hold off for another few seconds. "God... Doyle..." Sliding a hand up to touch Angel's face gently, Doyle bade, "Let go, Angel. I wanna feel you come." Angel did. It roared through him, vamp face and orgasm in one like a fist to his gut, leaving him panting and wrung out, though his hips continued to move throughout it. "Doyle," he heard himself say again. "God." "Not quite." Doyle grinned at him. "Though I do have friends in high places." He would have chuckled if he'd had more energy. "This can't be real." "Seems pretty real to me." Doyle gave the chuckle that Angel hadn't. "Although, I gotta admit, when looked at objectively it does sound like one of us is crazy and seein' things. Not that seeing things is anything new to me either..." Angel pushed himself up into a position where he could look at Doyle's face more easily. "Yeah. You worried about it?" Doyle seemed to take a moment to seriously consider the question. "No," he finally said, sounding half-surprised at his own answer. "The visions were never fun, but more good than bad came outta them. And... they're familiar." And they were one more thing that tied the two of them together, the same way they'd been before Doyle died. The same way he and Cordy'd been connected. Angel leaned in and kissed Doyle. "Familiar isn't always a good thing. Not that I'm saying the visions are bad, just... you know." Doyle was regarding him thoughtfully. "I'm not sure I do know." "They're... another... thing between us," Angel said, trying to explain what he meant without actually saying what he was thinking. "I'm not seeing where that's a bad thing." "I didn't say it was bad." Actually he'd already forgotten what he'd said, and had to hope for the best. "Just that it's, you know." "Another thing between us," Doyle repeated his own words back to him. "And I think that's solely of the good. But you don't." Angel sighed and moved off of Doyle, reaching over to pull a blanket down from the bed and offering it to Doyle. "I just mean... it's another place where you don't get a choice." Doyle took the blanket but also moved close to Angel again. "But I did get a choice." "Well, yeah, in taking them back." If nothing else, Angel was determined to make it through this conversation without getting up and walking away, so he leaned back against the box spring and made a sort of 'come here' gesture with his hand. "See?" Doyle willingly moved to curl up half against Angel, half in Angel's lap. "I was given a choice and I chose the visions." He nuzzled lazily at Angel's jaw. "I chose you." "I know," Angel said, tilting his head to catch Doyle's mouth in a slow kiss. "Don't think I'm not grateful." "Yeah," Doyle said with that slow grin of his, "I keep getting that impression." Angel tried to think of a way to say the next bit without getting himself into trouble. "Well... I just want you to know that some choices aren't ones you're stuck with." Okay, that wasn't any good. Quickly, he added, "I don't mean the visions, and I don't mean me. Just... you've still got options, you know?" "Angel." Doyle pulled back and sat up enough to meet Angel's eyes seriously. "I don't need other options. Not where you're concerned." Angel sighed. "See, that's not what I meant. I just want to make sure you know that there's more here than just me and the visions. This..." He waved around the room a little. "This isn't your life. You know?" "No, there's always fighting the good fight too." Doyle started to smile but it faded before it fully formed. "Unless... you're not telling me that you don't want me to be involved?" "No. I mean, sure I don't want you jumping into anything before you've had a chance to get used to the new you. But I don't want you thinking it's all there is. You can do... pretty much anything. Whatever will make you happy." "So if I said that being with you in the biblical sense and fighting alongside you made me happy...?" "Then that's what you do." Angel adjusted the blanket around Doyle's shoulders. Doyle snuggled closer and they sat that way for a while. "Angel?" Doyle finally asked. "Yeah?" "You got a real nice bed here. Ya think maybe we could use it?" Angel pressed a quick kiss to Doyle's temple, then scooped him up and set him on the bed, climbing in next to him and pulling up the sheets. And okay, the blanket was kind of tangled around them, but he didn't care. "Don't tell me I wore you out?" he teased. "Wouldn't go that far." Doyle snuggled closer with a contented sigh. "But there might be some basking going on right now." "I can do basking," Angel said, aware that maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. Doyle snorted. "Prove it." Angel thought about that one long and hard, and eventually had to admit, "Okay, you win." Chuckling, Doyle shifted enough to kiss him. "Basking is like brooding, only with less angst." Letting his lips trail over the soft skin of Doyle's neck, Angel asked, "Is there some operation where you can get that removed?" "It's more a behavioral modification treatment, I think." "Yeah but those take so much time," Angel complained good-naturedly. "What about a pill?" "Nope." Doyle put on a very unconvincing expression of commiseration. "Sorry." "I always thought those behavior modification things required, you know, shock treatment or something." Doyle pretended to consider. "I think sex treatment might be more effective in this case." "You're going to fuck the angst out of me?" The grin he got was positively wicked. "Thought I might try, yeah." "Hope you're prepared for it to be a long job," Angel said. "Could take years." Doyle sighed theatrically. "It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it." "Actually no... but if someone's going to, you're the one I want," Angel said, with complete honesty. He got a look from Doyle then that took his breath away with its honesty and love. "Good." "Yeah," Angel said. "Yeah, it is." Suddenly remembering, he slipped his arm from underneath Doyle and sat up. "Hang on a minute -- I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." Doyle gave him a puzzled look but let him go readily enough. Quickly, Angel returned to the living room, where he picked up the satchel that he'd given Doyle earlier. "Here," he said, going back into the bedroom and setting the leather bag down on Doyle's lap. "You forgot something." "Y'know, somehow Angel I don't think I'm going to be needing that for basking," Doyle teased, even as his fingers closed around the satchel, stroking the smooth leather it was made from. Angel climbed back onto the bed, sliding down beneath the sheets. "Open it." Giving Angel a curious look, Doyle obeyed. "If you don't like any of it, we can take it back," Angel said, unable to keep his mouth shut even though that probably would have been the better thing to do. "Well, most of it." Doyle pulled out the phone first. "They just keep making these things smaller and smaller, don't they?" he commented with a smile. "That's so, you know, I can call you," Angel said. "Or you can call me. Even if you're out." "You carry a cell now?" Doyle asked, his smile turning delighted and teasing. "We'll get you into the 21st century yet, man." "Sometimes I even remember to turn it on," Angel said, propping his head up on his hand. "It's probably too much to hope for that you know how to retrieve your voice mail." "That's what I have Harmony for. She screws it up just as often as I do, but I get to blame her. Everyone wins." Angel considered that. "Well, you know, everyone who's *me.*" "So what you're saying," Doyle began, "is that if I ever feel the need to leave you dirty messages on your phone, you won't hear them, but your secretary will?" "Maybe," Angel admitted. "And since she actually went to high school with Cordy, that could turn into a whole can of worms we don't even want to think about opening. I think you'd better stick to dirty email. Or just wait until you've actually got me on the phone." "Ya better remember to turn it on then," Doyle said leaning in close. "Or I just might be tempted to leave that message." Angel leaned in close too, until their noses were almost touching. "You," he said slowly, "are a troublemaker." And he kissed Doyle, one long slow kiss that ended with a smirk. "You're not done yet." "Causing trouble? You're right about that -- I'm never done." He leaned in to kiss Angel again. "I meant with your presents," Angel said. "More?" Doyle half laughed. "It's all stuff you need," Angel protested, watching as Doyle looked into the satchel again and brought out the Palm Pilot thing that everyone at Wolfram and Hart seemed to have. "Gunn calls it a BlackBerry," he said. "I'm kind of hoping that once you figure out how to use it, you can show me how to use mine." "So I can send you dirty email messages without having to go through Harmony." Doyle fiddled with it for a minute then looked up with a wide smile. "Thanks, man. You didn't have to go with all the presents to get me to forgive you, but I'm not giving them back." "It wasn't because I wanted you to forgive me. Well okay, maybe partially that, but... I want you to have stuff. You know?" Angel was starting to wonder if he should mention that there was still a thick manila envelope in there. Doyle chuckled. "So what you're saying is you want me to be your kept woman?" he asked with a big delighted smile. Angel smiled back uncertainly. "No?" "Relax, Angel. You're not offending me. Though I gotta say that for some reason that never made it onto any lists of possible jobs, even if you ignore the whole gender thing." Now he was definitely having second thoughts about the contents of that envelope. "Here," he said, reaching for the satchel. "Let me just get that out of your way..." Doyle pulled it out of his reach, looking at him hard for half a moment. Then he was digging inside it again and coming out with the envelope. "Change your mind about this?" he asked all too knowing. "Or did you just forget about it?" "If you don't want it... I mean, if it's not okay..." Angel was more worried about the credit card that was in there, in Doyle's name, than he was about the other stuff. "Relax." Doyle leaned over and kissed him, making a thorough job of it. "I've liked everything else so far, haven't I?" Angel stole another kiss, drawing it out even longer than the previous one and sliding a hand down to Doyle's waist. Not because he was trying to postpone the inevitable though. Nope, not at all. The credit card fell out first and Doyle picked it up and looked at it. "A. F. Doyle," he said, smiling as he traced the name on the card with a finger. "My first piece of ID." "It's on my account," Angel said apologetically, relieved that Doyle didn't seem to be taking it the wrong way. "But we can get you set up with your own if you want, once you have a driver's license and stuff." "Nah, I like the idea of having a joint account." He shot a wicked grin Angel's way. "And spending the formerly evil law firm's money." "Hey... once it's in my account, it's *my* money," Angel protested mildly. "Well, you know... *our* money." "Okay, helping you spend the formerly evil law firm's money if we're going to get all technical about it." Doyle ran his fingers over the name again. "I'll put my contribution into the pot as well, eventually." "I know." Angel cleared his throat. "So anyway, about this last thing..." "There's more?" Doyle asked, disbelieving laughter in his voice. "I gotta hand it to you Angel, when you put your mind to something, you go all out." "This one's kind of for me too," Angel said, pulling his hand back and fiddling with a fold of sheet. "Just... well, look at it and then tell me what you think. Okay?" Doyle turned back to the envelope and pulled out the brochure and itinerary. He got very still and quiet as he read it. Angel waited, but it was too hard not to say anything. "If you don't want to... that's okay. It's fine. I mean, it was just an idea." "You actually listened to me," Doyle said softly, a ghost of that same laughter hiding under his words. Angel kept his eyes on the twisted bit of sheet held in his hand. Doyle looked up then and there was something in his eyes, his expression, that Angel couldn't quite identify. He didn't think it was anything bad though. Especially when Doyle's next words were, "When can we leave?" "Whenever you want," Angel said. "I was actually thinking Monday night, maybe? I have some meetings and stuff on Monday that would be hard to reschedule on such short notice, and I... well, I don't want to dump it all in Wesley's lap." "Right. Good move, by the way. You leaving Wesley in charge can only help things between you." "You think? I mean, yeah, but I don't want to overwhelm him." Angel reached out and ran a hand along Doyle's sheet-covered thigh. "So... you really want to go?" "I've only been talking about us going on a vacation since before I got a body back. Of course I want to go." Angel felt a wide smile spread across his face -- couldn't help it, didn't want to. Even if the thought of taking off made him feel guilty, the idea of spending two weeks alone with Doyle -- no one to interrupt them, no stress, just taking a break from the real world -- was almost painfully wonderful. "If you want it, it's yours," he said. "Anything." Doyle turned onto his side facing him, reaching out to run the hand not holding onto the trip itinerary to touch Angel's cheek. "I want you," he said simply. "You've already got me," Angel said, turning his face and kissing Doyle's palm. "Good." And Doyle sealed that declaration with a kiss. Next Part Main Page Send Feedback