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Guess she'd got the message.
Doyle was up in their apartment, supposedly taking it easy on doctor's orders. As soon as they'd gotten back from their vacation, he'd been ceremoniously delivered to the medical department of Wolfram and Hart, where a bunch of tests had been run. It hadn't taken long, and once it was taken care of, Angel had insisted that he go back upstairs and spend the day doing anything that wouldn't tire him out.
Doyle had, of course, continued to insist that he was fine, but he'd eventually agreed to spend the day relaxing. When Angel had snuck up there just after lunch time, he'd found Doyle curled up asleep on the bed, looking pale but peaceful. He hadn't had the heart to wake him.
He sighed again as he looked at the mountain of paperwork on his desk. Maybe this was one of the bad things about vacations -- they were nice, but when you got back to work, you had to spend days, maybe weeks, catching up again.
Or maybe that was only the case when you were the boss.
A blue envelope in the new pile caught his attention -- he wasn't used to seeing that color -- and he snagged it, leaning against the edge of the desk as he noted that it was from the medical department and opened it up.
There were a number of pieces of paper with Doyle's test results inside. Cholesterol normal, white cells count normal, TSH -- whatever the hell that was -- normal. Iron count was on the low side, which Angel felt more than a twinge of guilt over, even though he hadn't so much as tasted Doyle's blood since he'd gotten sick, and there should have been plenty of time for it to build itself up by now.
Then his eyes came to rest on the bottom line, and he had to grope for his chair, falling down onto it so heavily that it creaked.
Angel felt numb for one long, almost blissful moment, and then sheer terror, icy cold and constricting, swept through him.
No.
"Angel?" Wesley's voice shook Angel out of staring at Doyle's file and he looked up to see his friend hovering in the doorway. "Am I interrupting? I did knock but..."
Swallowing hard, Angel slid the papers back into the envelope quickly, trying to act casual as he did so. "Wes. Yeah, sorry. What?"
Wes stepped further into the office. "I just wanted to brief you on what happened when you were gone, but it can wait." He looked at Angel and frowned. "Are you all right?"
He had to pull himself together -- it was obvious that Wesley could tell something was wrong, and he didn't want that. "Yeah, I'm fine." He attempted a smile, trying to concentrate on convincing Wesley that everything was okay. "And actually, I've got some stuff to do. Maybe we can do the briefing thing tomorrow?"
"Of course." But Wes was still frowning at him. "Are you sure there's nothing wrong? You look..."
Angel grinned sheepishly, hoping to cover up the shock he felt by admitting to a lesser crime. "I'm fine, just... well, maybe I'm finding it a little bit harder to be back than I thought I would. After all that rest and relaxation, being here's... kind of stressful."
Wes relaxed a little at that and nodded in agreement. "It certainly is no day -- or night -- at the beach. It can be difficult to get back into the routine."
"Yeah, exactly. The routine." Relieved that he seemed to be on the right track, Angel tried desperately to think of what would work to get him out of the office as soon as possible. This was all just... too much. He wanted to think that it couldn't really be happening, but he knew that it was. "Look, I've got this thing. This, um... meeting. That I have to go to."
"Anything I can help with?"
Trying to keep his voice calm, Angel said, "Nah, it's fine. Just, you know, like you said... getting back into the routine." He stood up, looking at Wesley. "But I should really get going. I'll be back later... maybe we can talk then?"
"Of course," Wes said again, his expression beginning to turn concerned. "Are... How is Doyle doing?"
Angel couldn't help but smile more genuinely just at the mention of Doyle's name, even under the circumstances. "He's okay. I went up and checked on him a little while ago and he was sleeping." He hesitated, then said, "Wes? You know that I really appreciate everything you've done for me and Doyle, right?"
"I really haven't done that much," Wes demurred, but Angel could see the pleasure in Wesley's eyes at being acknowledged.
"You have," he insisted. "And... well, I just want you to know that it means a lot to me. And if I ever... if anything ever happened to me -- not that I'm saying it will -- I'd hope you'd, you know... keep an eye on him for me. Make sure he was okay."
"The best way to do that is to make sure nothing happens to you in the first place."
Angel frowned -- that hadn't sounded like a yes. But he knew he couldn't chance going into any more detail, not if he wanted to avoid suspicion. The cold pit of fear in his stomach made him want to put as much distance between himself and here as possible.
He knew what he was going to do. He just didn't want to admit it to himself, not yet.
"Don't worry," Angel said. "Nothing's going to happen to me." He came around the desk and patted Wesley on the shoulder on his way toward the door. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"
Wes looked like he was going to protest, but in the end he merely nodded. "I look forward to it."
"Okay." Angel felt like he needed to say something else. "Thanks. For everything." Then, before Wesley could reply, he turned and walked out of the office, heading for the elevator and the decision he hadn't even acknowledged he'd made.
When Doyle arrived in the doorway to Wesley's office, the other man was working studiously, his head bent over the notes that he was scribbling onto a legal-sized pad of paper. He must have made enough noise to get Wesley's attention, though, because Wesley looked up at him, then smiled. "Doyle. How are you?"
"I'm good," Doyle said, returning the smile. He meant it too; spending the afternoon sleeping seemed to have finally had him shaking the tiredness that had been dogging him the last week. "Figured I'd find you nose-deep in books."
"Yes, well... part of the job, I'm afraid." Wesley stood up and gestured at one of the other chairs. "Would you like to sit down?"
"Actually I seemed to have misplaced a vampire and was wondering if you'd seen him - tall, dark, tendency to go all broody?"
Wesley looked thoughtful. "I haven't seen him since early this afternoon. I take it you checked his office?"
"Yeah. No joy." He'd taken the elevator down that let out in Angel's office actually, hoping to surprise him and maybe talk him into taking a bit more vacation time back upstairs only to find an empty office. "His secretary wasn't much help either. I think I confused her; she kept calling me Cordy and trying to hug me and asking when I got the colored contacts."
"Harmony," Wesley said, sounding mildly exasperated. "That's about par for the course where she's concerned, I'm afraid. I'll have a word with her." He reached for the phone, leaving Doyle to wonder if he'd meant 'right now,' but when she answered, Wesley just said, "Harmony. I'm trying to locate Angel. Yes, I know. But he had a meeting earlier today -- just after lunchtime. Can you tell me where and with whom?" There was a pause. "I see. Are you sure? All right." He hung up the phone, his expression slightly troubled.
"That's not a good expression," Doyle observed, starting to get worried by proxy. "What's wrong?"
"I'm sure it's nothing," Wesley said.
"Well good. Then there's no reason for you not to tell me what that nothing is."
"It's just... when I saw Angel earlier, he told me that he had a meeting this afternoon," Wesley said. "But Harmony says there weren't any meetings on his schedule for today."
Which meant that whatever Angel was doing, it was probably dangerous. Doyle wondered if he could get some kind of homing device to plant on the vampire so he could track him the next time this happened. But for now, he was going to have to do it the old fashioned way. "Right," Doyle said, nodding decisively. "So it's rifle his office looking for a clue to what kind of trouble Angel's got himself in this time. You want to tag along?"
"Of course," Wesley said, joining him as he headed for the door. "You think he's off doing something he didn't want to tell anyone about?"
"Why else would he go off without telling anybody or leaving a message?" Doyle asked as they headed down the corridor towards Angel's office.
"I don't know." Wesley sounded frustrated again. "I should have known he was up to something. He seemed... upset. He tried to tell me it was because he was adjusting to being back at work, but..."
"Yeah. He's off looking for trouble."
"Whatever it is, he must have known it was the wrong thing to do. That we'd have tried to talk him out of it." They reached the door to Angel's office, which Doyle had left open when he'd gone through, and Wesley hung back to let Doyle enter the room first.
Doyle did so, looking closer at things than he had before, trying to see if there was something that was doing the inanimate object equivalent of jumping up and down and yelling "Here! I'm a clue!"
The desk seemed the most obvious place to start, but it was so cluttered with piles of papers and folders and various colored envelopes that the task seemed daunting. Still, Doyle moved over to it and began to shuffle through one pile, figuring that at the very least any clues to where Angel had gone would be close to the top if they'd been left behind at all.
"He didn't say anything to you the last time you saw him?" Wesley asked. "Anything suspicious?"
Doyle shook his head. "Nope. Just telling me repeatedly to take it easy and relax. Like I hadn't heard him the first couple dozen of times."
"I'm sorry," Wesley said, coming over to the desk and looking down at all the paperwork. "I should have called him on it when I noticed his behavior was off."
Doyle waved that off. "I don't know if I would've either. Sometimes you have to give the people you care about the benefit of a doubt."
Hesitantly, as if he was uncomfortable going through Angel's things even despite the situation, Wesley began to flip through the pages at the top of one pile. "I wonder if anyone saw him leave," he said. "Maybe, if we knew which direction he was headed..."
"Could check with building security. They'd be keeping track of all the exits, wouldn't they?" Not seeing anything else to look through, Doyle moved over to the desk as well and started looking through another pile of files.
"Yes," Wesley agreed. He paused, then he picked up a blue envelope that was sitting on the desk. "Angel was looking through this when I interrupted him earlier."
"Yeah?" Doyle looked up from a rather boring report about demonic accounting. "What is it?"
"Different colored envelopes are from different departments," Wesley explained, opening the envelope and removing the papers that were inside. A moment later, he said, "They're your medical reports," and offered the printed sheets to Doyle.
"What could they possibly say to send Angel haring off like that?" Doyle asked, trying to ignore the sudden unease that struck him. He took the papers and joked, "What, am I dying or something?" Then looked down and read them.
And blinked.
And read it again.
"Doyle?" he heard Wesley saying. "Doyle. What is it?" Wesley's hand was under his elbow, supporting him.
"This can't be right," Doyle finally said, finding his voice. "Someone else's results must've got mixed up."
"What does it say?" Wesley sounded worried now.
"It says that I'm pregnant." A laugh escaped Doyle which he quickly clamped down on because it sounded far too close to hysterical for his liking.
"But you couldn't possibly... that is, *Angel* couldn't possibly..." He could hear the shock in Wesley's voice too. "Here, sit down."
Yes, sitting might be a good thing, Doyle thought as he settled numbly in the chair behind Angel's desk. "It's got to be wrong."
"Vampires can't have children," Wesley said. "But you... there wasn't... anyone else?" He asked it hesitantly as if aware that the question might be met with outrage.
"Yeah, I came back in Cordy's body and decided I wanted to sleep around," Doyle replied sarcastically.
"I'm sorry," Wesley said, his voice gentle now. "It was important for me to know, if we're going to find out what's happening. Here, let me see the test results." He took the papers back from Doyle's hand and looked at them. "You do have detectable levels of HCG in your blood. I take it you haven't... menstruated since you've been back?"
"Uh, no," Doyle replied, feeling his face heat at the awkwardness of the subject. "But male half demon put into a female body that had also been made half demon... Maybe those readings are just normal for this body?"
"I wouldn't think so. Human chorionic gonadotropin -- HCG -- is a hormone made only during pregnancy. It would, for example, be present in the blood for some time after a miscarriage, but unless that were the case, it really wouldn't be detectable other than when a woman," Wesley hesitated, then went on, "is pregnant."
"But-"
"And you've been feeling ill," Wesley pointed out. "I suppose there's a small chance that Cordelia was already pregnant somehow when you entered... er, when she gave her body over to..." He cleared his throat. "When you came back."
"Ya think she would've mentioned that at the time," Doyle said weakly, the possibility this could be real starting to sink in.
"I do think she would have, yes," Wesley agreed, crouching down beside Doyle's chair and looking at him. "And I think she would have known, if it were the case then. The levels of hormone in your blood... they're consistent with a pregnancy that would have started in the time you've been back."
Doyle took a deep breath, trying to just think about this rationally and save the freaking out for later. "Y'know, you said vampires can't have children, but that's not entirely true. We both know one vampire who's fathered a child before..."
"I know." Wesley said it so quietly that it was hard to hear.
Doyle laughed again, the sound of it still not quite right. "Nobody told me it wasn't a one time thing."
"I'm sorry," Wesley said. "If I'd even suspected that it might have been possible..."
"What?" Doyle stared at the other man in disbelief. "I don't think there's any interpretation of events that could even remotely make this your fault."
"I should have realized it was a possibility, no matter how remote," Wesley insisted. "But in any case, we should focus on the situation, not on what led us here." His eyes met Doyle's. "Angel saw this report."
Angel's absence suddenly made complete sense. "Man, he must be totally freaked."
"I'd think that would be putting it mildly." Wesley was still looking at him carefully. "Are you all right? I know this must be a terrible shock."
Was he all right? Doyle tried to take inner stock and finally had to admit, "I don't know. I don't think it's really sunk in yet."
"Don't worry -- everything will be fine." Wesley frowned as if aware that this particular platitude was relatively useless. "Once Angel has had a chance to calm down a bit, you and he can... discuss the situation and decide what course of action you'd like to take."
"Yeah." Maybe by the time Angel got back Doyle would have got through this total disbelief.
Wesley put a hand on his arm. "Can I get you anything? A glass of water?"
Doyle laughed, not unkindly. "I'm pregnant, not dehydrated." Hearing himself say that made it more real somehow and he shook his head, feeling for the first time more wonder than disbelief. "I'm pregnant," he repeated, the wonder making it into his voice.
"Sit here as long as you need to, and then tell me what you want to do next." Wesley's presence was soothing, at least. Better than if he'd been alone, not that he should have to be.
What did he want to do next? The only thing that came to mind, the single overpowering thought was, "Angel. I need to talk to Angel. He's got to be so..."
"I'm sure he's just as surprised as you are, and quite possibly more upset. But it's all right. We'll find him. He won't have gone far -- I'm sure he just needed some time to think."
"Yeah." He laughed weakly again. "Just as I almost had him convinced that nothing was going to happen."
"This doesn't have to be something bad," Wesley said. "You have a variety of options open to you."
"Yeah, I know. I just... I need to talk to Angel before I consider any of them."
"Oh, I know. I apologize. I wasn't trying to imply that you needed to make any decisions now... I just..." Wesley swallowed back the rest of his words and patted Doyle's arm again. "I'm trying to help. I suppose I'm not doing a very good job of it."
"Would you stop that?" Doyle asked exasperated. "It's not your fault, and you are helping just be being here? Ya think there's anyone else 'sides Angel I want to talking about this to just yet?"
"No, of course not. I'm sorry." Wesley stood up, but he seemed less apologetic and more straightforward again. He leaned against the desk and appeared to wait for Doyle to decide that he was ready to do something other than sit there.
Which Doyle decided he really should work on doing. If he could just come up with something to do...
After a few more moments, Wesley suggested, "Perhaps you could stay here while I look for Angel?"
"I'll go with-" Doyle began standing up, but broke off, thinking of what Angel's reaction would be if he came back and Doyle wasn't there. "I'll wait upstairs," he said instead. "In case you miss him and he comes back on his own."
"Good idea." Wesley rubbed at the back of his neck and appeared to think. "I'll see what I can do -- check some local places, talk to some people who might have other suggestions. I'll phone you if I find out anything. Will you be all right on your own?"
Doyle nodded. "Yeah. I'll be fine. Just... find Angel, okay? Before he gets himself into trouble."
"I will." Wesley headed for the door without further hesitation, leaving Doyle alone in Angel's office.
Wesley was tired as he stepped into the elevator in Angel's office and pushed the up button. He'd spent the entire day as well as the previous one doing everything he could to locate Angel, with no success, and he wasn't looking forward to telling Doyle. He leaned against the wall wearily as the elevator began its ascent, trying to feel something other than hopeless and a failure.
He'd done everything he could think of -- spoken to everyone he knew, and found out everything *they* knew. Gone to every conceivable place that Angel might have been. Called every contact he had. And all for nothing.
The elevator came to a gentle halt, the doors opened smoothly, and Wesley stepped out into the apartment. "Doyle?"
Doyle appeared from the direction of the kitchen holding a bottle of water. "Any luck?" he asked and the hope in his eyes just made Wesley feel even worse.
"No. I'm sorry."
The way Doyle's expression fell would have been comical if the situation wasn't so serious. He continued on into the living room, past Wesley, not saying anything as he stood at the windows and gazed out at the city.
"I'm sure he's all right," Wesley said, going over to stand behind Doyle. He thought about touching his shoulder reassuringly -- Cordelia's rounded, soft shoulder -- but didn't.
"No he's not," Doyle argued, not turning around. "He's in trouble. Or, or worse. He'd be here otherwise."
Wesley was torn. Part of him felt as if Doyle was right, but he didn't see any point to admitting it -- it would just upset Doyle further, after all. "You know what Angel's like better than anyone. He was upset -- I'm sure he just needed some space, some time to think. He'll be back."
Doyle shook his head. "He wouldn't just... take off like that. Not without at least letting me know."
"Under the circumstances? I think he might." Wesley took a chance and moved in closer, resting his hand on Doyle's shoulder and squeezing reassuringly. "I'm sure wherever he is he's thinking about you."
"Y'know this is the first I've actually hoped to have a vision. Just something to let me know where he is, what's kept him from coming back..." Doyle shook his head. "Nothing. Not even a hint of a headache."
"I'm sorry. I promise I won't stop looking." Wesley moved to the side a bit so that he could see Doyle's face. "Have you been sleeping at all?"
"Surprisingly, yeah. I don't think I'm going to be able to, then I lay down and close my eyes..." Doyle shrugged. "Next thing I know, it's hours later."
"Well, that's good. It's probably good for the..." Realizing that he still wasn't sure if Doyle was ready to have the baby referred to specifically, Wesley changed what he'd been about to say to, "Good for you emotionally. To be getting enough rest, I mean."
"Yeah, good for me to be off in dreamland when who knows what is happening to Angel."
Doyle sounded so upset that Wesley was at a loss. "I wish there was something I could say to make this easier."
That finally got Doyle to look at him. "You are," he said earnestly. "Least I'm not worrying alone, y'know?"
There was an urge to tuck Doyle's hair back behind his ear, even though it was too short for that to be necessary. "It's going to be all right," Wesley said.
Doyle gave him a tiny smile. "You say that and I almost believe it."
"It's true," Wesley said. He thought it was at the very least possible that Angel was off somewhere trying to come to terms with what had happened, and, disappointed though he was in Angel's behavior, he also understood it, probably better than Doyle did. "We'll find him. You can't allow yourself to think that we won't."
"Oh, I know we will," Doyle said instantly. "I can't believe the Powers would send me back just to let him..."
Wesley let the sentence hang unfinished for a moment, then he offered, "He's fine. He's brooding somewhere, trying to accept what's happened, and any moment he'll realize that he's been a prat and come back to apologize."
"If that's all it is, I'm going to kick his arse down to the lobby and back up here for putting me through this."
"I think he must be terrified," Wesley said. "Which isn't to say that he doesn't deserve a good arse kicking."
Doyle moved away from the window, and sitting down on the couch. "I wish I'd seen the results first. Then I could've taken off and let Angel spend all his time looking for me. Would keep him from running himself."
"Is that what you'd have done?" Wesley asked, doubting it.
"If it would have kept Angel occupied..." Doyle shrugged.
Wesley could tell, in that moment, that Doyle was more deeply hurt by the thought of Angel having left without a word than he'd been letting on. Perhaps that was why he was so determined that something must have happened to Angel -- it was easier to accept that than to admit that he might have gone voluntarily.
He moved to sit on the far arm of the couch. "How are you otherwise? Are you still feeling ill?"
Doyle shook his head. "Not so much since medical gave me that potion to take. Might be an evil law firm but the doctors know their stuff."
"Well, at least they were able to do something helpful." Wesley looked at Doyle thoughtfully. "And you're all right staying here alone? Not that you wouldn't be, but... well, if you need anything, I suppose you know where to find me."
"I know," Doyle said, giving Wesley a wide grin. "That means a lot, really."
"So try to get some sleep, and we'll start fresh in the morning. All right?" Wesley stood up again. "I'm going to stop in to my office and take care of a few things, then I'll head home. If you need me."
"You can stay here if you want," Doyle blurted, then blinked and explained, "It's getting real late and I know you've been burning the candle not only at both ends but in the middle since Angel did his Houdini impression. You could save that drive time and use the guest room. If you want."
"Are you sure?" The thought was tempting for more reasons than one. "I wouldn't disturb you?"
"I'm sure. Place is kind of huge for just one person." He gave Wesley another smile. "I'd appreciate the company."
Wesley smiled back. "At this point, I'd gratefully sleep on the couch in my office," he admitted. "For that matter, if I'll be able to make an early start in the morning, I should be able to take care of those things I wanted to do then." It was a relief not to have to think about going back downstairs *or* driving home, considering how exhausted he was.
"Good." Doyle patted his shoulder. "With Angel off god knows where in god knows what trouble, I really don't need to worry about you passing out from exhaustion. Or lack of food for that matter -- have you eaten today?"
"I had a sandwich for lunch," Wesley said. "Some time around 3, I think."
"And it's what now? Right. Sit down, I'll get you something to eat." Doyle started back towards the kitchen.
"You really don't have to," Wesley protested, following. "I could order some take-out."
"Sit," Doyle repeated again, this time pointing to the table in the middle of the kitchen. "I'm pregnant and hormonal. Shut up and let me practice my mothering skills. Since god knows that's not something I'd ever thought I'd have to learn how to be."
Obediently, Wesley sat. "Are you noticing the hormones then? Or had you not had enough of an opportunity to adjust in the first place?"
"Nah, not really. Though it makes a good line doesn't it?" Doyle took out a frying pan and then went to the fridge. "Omelet okay?"
"Wonderful. Can I help?"
Doyle paused and turned to look at him, two eggs in his hand. "You're not really good at just letting someone take care of you, are ya?"
Wesley shook his head. "I suppose not."
Doyle continued to stare at him for a long moment, then said, "We'll have to work on that." He moved away from the fridge to put the eggs down on the counter and tossed back over his shoulder. "You can grate some cheese while I chop up the onions and ham."
Glad to have something to do, Wesley went to retrieve the block of cheese, blinking at the kitchen as he wondered where the grater might be kept. Doyle pointed wordlessly to a cabinet before he could even ask, and handed him a small bowl into which he could grate the cheese. "You like to cook," he observed, noting the ease with which Doyle moved around the kitchen.
"Yeah," Doyle acknowledged as he deftly diced some ham. "Used to do it all the time back... before." He smiled slightly. "Several lifetimes ago now, back before demons and vampires and body switches, oh my."
Wesley washed his hands quickly and began to grate the cheese, trying not to grate off half the skin on his knuckles as he did so. "I've never been much of a cook. It didn't seem worth it, just for myself."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Doyle replied. "Cooking was another thing that went by the wayside when I gained a demon heritage and lost pretty much everything else."
"It must have been very difficult," Wesley said.
Doyle shrugged but was silent for a moment. "It was," he finally answered.
"You're very resilient. You made it through that, and you'll make it through this as well. Don't worry." Wesley was sure he sounded like an idiot, but he had to say *something*, didn't he?
That earned him another one of Doyle's quick grins. "Yeah, one thing I've learned about myself is that I'm a survivor. Even when I die."
It was fascinating how Doyle did different things with Cordelia's smile than she had herself -- now that Wesley was really paying attention, he could see all sorts of little mannerisms that were different. He finished grating what seemed like a reasonable amount of cheese and began to wrap up the remainder in the piece of cling film it had come from. "What else can I do?"
Doyle had moved onto chopping up some green onions and he looked at the preparations before offering, "Watch me put it all together?"
"I think I can manage that." Wesley moved back to give Doyle some more room and leaned against the countertop.
He watched as Doyle deftly combined the ingredients and cooked the omelet; the smell of it as it neared completion was enough to wake Wesley's stomach up and make him admit that maybe it had been too long since his last meal.
It only took him a few moments to locate two glasses and get them each some water from the dispenser at the front of the refrigerator. Then, assuming that Doyle would eat with him, he retrieved two plates and set them on the counter next to the stove. "It smells wonderful," he said, watching as Doyle flipped the omelet over onto itself.
"Been a while since you've had anything but take-out, hasn't it?" Doyle observed good naturedly, as he dished up the food.
"Yes, quite a while," Wesley admitted, carrying the glasses over to the table and setting them down. "Although at least the quality of the take-out has improved since we started working here."
"Makes sense," Doyle said, bringing the plates over and handing one to Wesley. "Ya accidentally poison someone from some little detective agency, no big problem. You accidentally poison someone who is running an evil law firm, ya going to get sued at the very least."
Wesley smiled and went back for forks. "It's more the financial aspects, actually. To say that my salary is higher now would be a bit of an understatement."
"Yeah, that's a nice change from dodging loan sharks and bill collectors."
Something in Doyle's tone made Wesley look at him more closely as they sat down. "It sounds as if you've a bit more experience there than you'd have liked."
Doyle shrugged. "I used to live with this elaborate system of checks and balances. The problem was that sometimes my checks didn't balance."
The first bite of omelet was so delicious that Wesley closed his eyes. "It could be the fact that it's been hours since my last meal, but just now I might suggest that you could have made a living as a cook."
"Always good to have a fallback career," Doyle joked, but Wesley could see that he took real pleasure in the praise.
"Have you thought about..." Wesley toyed with his food, suddenly awkward again and wishing he'd thought before beginning to bring up the topic. "What you're going to do? About... well, the fact that you're pregnant."
Doyle didn't answer right away, looking down at his plate. "I've really been trying not to think about it too much," he finally admitted. "Not at least until Angel's here to throw his two cents in."
"That's perfectly understandable," Wesley said quickly. "I think that's wise. In fact, I shouldn't have brought it up. It's really not my place."
"Wesley," Doyle said. "It's fine." He gave a ghost of a grin. "We really need to work on this tendency you have to burst into spontaneous and unneeded apologies."
"In this case I think an apology was warranted. Of course you'd want time to discuss it with Angel before making any decisions." Wesley ate another bite of omelet and chewed slowly, grateful for the pause in conversation and hoping that the subject would change when they began to talk again.
"Still," Doyle began thoughtfully, after a few minutes of silence, "there was a time when I wanted nothing more than kids. 'Course that was before I found out about my demon side and I never thought I'd be having them myself but..."
Wesley thought that sounded as if maybe Doyle was in the process of making a decision, whether he was aware of it or not. "The circumstances are certainly unusual," he said.
"Ya think?" Doyle asked with a grin.
"One could even say unprecedented." Wesley reached out and touched Doyle's hand where it rested on the table. "Although we both know your life seems to be riddled with similarly unique situations."
"Yeah, surprised my middle name isn't 'weird'. But I eventually learned to take it in stride. Things could always be worse."
"Saying something like *that* is just asking for trouble." Wesley pulled his hand back and pointed his fork warningly at Doyle. "You should know better."
"Maybe I like tempting fate sometimes," Doyle replied with a bit of a challenging smile.
"I suppose if it gets you..." Wesley started almost wistfully, then shook his head and finished in a completely different tone, "Into trouble enough times, you'll learn."
"If dying hasn't taught me to avoid trouble, I'm pretty sure I'm incorrigible."
"I'm sure you're right." Eating the last bite of his omelet, Wesley sighed and set down his fork. "Thank you. For the food, and the place to sleep. The thought of driving home to my empty apartment isn't very appealing when I'm this tired."
"Probably not the safest of things to be doing either," Doyle pointed out. "And really, I'm glad for the company. Keeps me out of my own head, y'know?"
"So I should be talking about something distracting?" Wesley leaned back in his chair.
Doyle looked at him, a smile just hovering around his lips. "Ya got a subject in mind?"
"If sure if I did I'd have brought it up by now, instead of starting conversations and then abandoning them because I should have thought of something else." Wesley shrugged apologetically. "Is there anything *you'd* like to talk about?"
Doyle seemed to consider that with good humor, but when he finally spoke, what he said was, "You really think he's all right?"
"Yes, I really do," Wesley said, doing his best to sound soothing. "And I'm sure that he'll come back as soon as he's able to. You know that he cares for you a great deal?"
Doyle nodded. "I wouldn't be in this condition if he didn't," he said wryly.
Knowing it would be tactless to point out that that wasn't necessarily true, Wesley leaned forward, looking at Doyle's face intently. "He loves you. He'll be back."
Doyle nodded. "Course he will." But there was just a hint of doubt in those
green eyes that he couldn't quite hide.
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