|
It was difficult not to think of it as Cordelia's apartment, what with Doyle looking like he did and the fact that, for Wesley, it had *always* been Cordelia's apartment. But Doyle had moved into the apartment a few days before, having reacquainted himself with Dennis, and seemed to be settling in.
Wesley reached the front door and knocked.
The door opened on its own - Dennis letting him in.
Hesitantly, Wesley stepped inside, swinging the door shut behind him but not entering any further. "Thank you, Dennis," he said to the air around him, then he called, "Doyle? It's me."
"Wes?" Doyle's voice came from the direction of the bathroom and a moment later he appeared, moisture glistening on his skin -- of which there was much visible as he was wearing only a large fluffy white towel.
"Sorry," Wesley said immediately, looking to Doyle's right rather than continue to stare. He hadn't exactly forgotten how curvaceous Cordelia had been, even with the more androgynous clothing that Doyle had been wearing, but still... "I didn't realize you were... undressed. I mean... sorry."
Doyle chuckled, the sound rich and low. "It's all right. I was just... discovering my inner girl and taking a bath. There possibly were bubbles."
Doing his best to keep his eyes averted, Wesley walked in the general direction of the kitchen. "I brought a few things -- I'll just put them away."
"I'll be right with you. Just let me put on something a bit less... tentative." Doyle headed into the bedroom.
Wesley listened to the sounds of Doyle moving around as he went into the kitchen and put away the food that he'd brought, leaving a bottle of multivitamins on the countertop next to the refrigerator. He and Doyle had had dinner together more nights than not since Angel had taken off, the last several at the new -- old -- apartment, and it only seemed right to bring a share of supplies. "I thought I'd cook dinner," he called. "If you're willing to chance my cooking, that is."
"Why not?" Doyle replied, voice moving toward Wesley. He looked up to see Doyle in the kitchen doorway, now wearing a just as fuzzy but much more secure looking robe. "Gotta live dangerously every now and then."
"Yes, thank you so much for your confidence," Wesley said dryly. Getting out a large skillet, he admitted, "It's not much more than a frozen meal, to be honest. But I think you'll like it."
"I'm sure I will. The company's good at least."
Wesley added a small amount of oil to the pan and began to heat it up, then he picked up the bottle of vitamins and offered it over his shoulder to Doyle. "I brought you these."
"You shouldn't have," Doyle said wryly, taking the bottle with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.
"You ought to be taking them," Wesley said. "It's very important at this stage of fetal development." He glanced at Doyle a bit sheepishly. "Or so I've read."
Making a face, Doyle opened the bottle and took out a pill, putting it in his mouth then going to the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water to take it with. "Least I haven't started craving blood or anything."
"Connor wasn't -- isn't -- a vampire, and both of his parents are. Were," Wesley said. "There's no reason to think this baby will require blood. It seems to be completely normal." The limited tests that Doyle had had so far didn't show anything even slightly abnormal.
"There's enough that's abnormal about this situation, I guess the actual focus of this deserves to be completely normal." Doyle put the bottle of vitamins on the counter by the sink. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Sit down and let me see if I can handle this on my own?" Wesley suggested. He waited until Doyle had done so, when his back was turned toward Doyle, to say, "I should tell you that I managed to locate where Angel had been when he was corresponding with us, and that he's no longer there. At this point, I'm afraid the trail is rather cold."
There was silence from Doyle.
"I'm sorry," Wesley said, turning around to face him. "I know it's not the news you wanted to hear. I won't stop looking."
"Maybe," Doyle began in a barely audible voice, looking down at his hands, "maybe you should."
Wesley only waited for the briefest moment before going over to where Doyle was sitting. He pulled another chair around and sat in it, his knees nearly touching Doyle's, and reached for his hands. "Is that what you want me to do?" he asked gently.
Doyle gave a half shrug. "That's obviously what Angel wants us to do."
"I'm not concerned with what Angel wants right now," Wesley said. "I'm concerned with what *you* want."
"I want Angel to want to be here. But that doesn't look like it's going to happen."
Wesley squeezed Doyle's hands, which felt cool in his own. He thought that it would just make things harder on Doyle if he continued to insist that he thought the vampire would change his mind and come back, so instead he said, "No, it doesn't look like it is. And even if we found him, that doesn't mean we'd be able to make him come back."
Doyle still hadn't looked at him. "I don't want him here if he doesn't want to be here."
"I understand." It was hurting Wesley more than he would have thought possible to see Doyle so withdrawn, and he had no idea what to do to make things better. "Doyle?" He waited until the green eyes met his before saying, "I know this is very difficult. But you're not alone."
That earned him a ghost of a smile. "I know." Then the smile faded again. "Angel's the one who's chosen to be alone."
"That's *his* choice, and *his* loss." Wesley reached a hand up to touch the side of Doyle's face almost automatically. "It's going to be all right. I know that must seem impossible just now, but it will be."
And the smile was back, just a bit stronger. "Look at you, turning into an optimist."
"I'd do -- " Wesley cut himself off as his thumb traced Doyle's cheekbone. "I don't like to see you so unhappy. I wish there were more I could do to help."
"You're doing a lot, Wes, really."
"Yes, well, what I *should* be doing is making you something to eat." Realizing that he was a bit too close for propriety, Wesley backed off a bit, getting up and going back to the stove. He cut the top off the bag of frozen chicken and vegetable stir fry and poured the contents into the pan.
Doyle sat in thoughtful silence, watching him.
"What?" Wesley asked after a moment.
"Nothing. Just... I'm glad you're here."
Wesley felt himself break out into a smile. "Thank you. I'm glad to be here. I have..." He turned quickly back to the food and began to stir it before he'd reveal something best kept hidden. "Your friendship is important to me," he said carefully.
"Likewise." Doyle paused then asked, "You have what?"
Damn. "A vested interest in your well-being," Wesley said, trying to make it sound as if that were a casual thing one might say to a friend.
Doyle smiled at him, seeming to accept that. "Likewise," he said again.
It didn't long for the food to cook, and Wesley moved about the kitchen retrieving plates and silverware as easily as if he lived there himself. He set a plate down in front of Doyle and sat down beside him. "I hope it's all right."
"It's food, it's cooked. Most days at this time that's pretty much all it takes."
Wesley almost laughed. "Well, I'm glad you've such high standards."
"Yeah, well," Doyle picked up his fork, "put it down to eating for two and all that." He took a bite. "Not bad."
Picking up his own fork, Wesley began to eat as well, watching Doyle closely when he thought he could manage to get away with it.
His watching didn't go unnoticed though. Doyle finally paused and asked, "What?"
"I'm worried about you," Wesley said, returning his gaze to his plate and stabbing another piece of chicken. He glanced up at Doyle apologetically. "But I'll try not to worry quite so obviously."
"I'm all right," Doyle insisted. "Really."
"It would be understandable if you weren't," Wesley said.
Doyle took a few more bites in silence then admitted, "I miss him. But he's made his decision and as much as I want to track him down and drag him back, I can't. I've got other things that have to take priority now."
"That's good. That's a good attitude," Wesley said with approval. "But... well, I just hope you know that if you *weren't* all right, I wouldn't want you to feel you had to hide that from me."
"I'll keep that in mind for whenever I feel like losing it," Doyle replied jokingly.
"*Are* there times like that?" Wesley asked, without looking up, in case that might make it easier for Doyle to admit to it.
"Since I came back? Not yet."
Wesley was impressed and a bit surprised. "You're really astonishingly resilient. It's remarkable." It was no wonder he felt about Doyle the way he did.
"You did notice the yet in that sentence, right?"
"I did," Wesley acknowledged. "I just... well, maybe I shouldn't..."
"You shouldn't what?" Doyle asked, leaning in, the self effacing joking tone fading.
"Shouldn't say what I'm thinking," Wesley said quietly. "I'm trying so hard to be supportive, to help. To *not* say something that will make things worse for you."
"I don't think I like the idea of you censoring yourself around me," Doyle said thoughtfully, picking up his fork and eating some more. "As you said, I bounce back pretty fast -- I'm not going to break apart if you say something that's not completely supportive or sanitized."
"I know." Wesley watched Doyle take another bite, then added, "But you've already been through so much. I don't want to add to it."
"You haven't and I don't think you could. Well, not unless you decided to suddenly try and disappear off the face of the Earth like -- never mind."
"First of all, I'm not Angel -- I think we can both agree on that easily enough. And secondly..." Wesley decided that he'd eaten what he was going to and pushed his plate away an inch or so. "Secondly, I'm not leaving. For what it's worth, you can count on me to be here for the long term." He lowered his voice. "I'm very angry with him. I try not to show it, but I am."
"Yeah, that makes two of us." Doyle grimaced. "I understand why -- god knows the kind of trauma's he's been through would mess up anyone -- but still... I'm right pissed at him."
"I don't care how upset he is -- he's being terribly irresponsible. He should know better. If it were me in his position, I'd -- " Wesley cut himself off again. "Well, it doesn't matter what I'd do."
"No, I want to hear it," Doyle said, leaning forward again, eye glinting with interest. "What would you do?"
Wesley looked at Doyle, who was very clearly Doyle despite the fact that he was wearing Cordelia's body. "I certainly wouldn't run off and leave you to deal with something like this on your own, no matter how upset I was. I'd stay and... well, take care of you. Not that you *need* taking care of per se, but I'd want to do as much of it as you could put up with."
Doyle gave him a knowing smile. "Kinda like you've been doing?"
Dropping his gaze, Wesley nodded. "Yes, I suppose so."
He could feel Doyle looking at him, but the light touch against his cheek still surprised him. Sitting back again after that brief kiss, Doyle smiled and said, "Looks like I got lucky then."
"That's... I..." Wesley felt flushed and confused, and didn't know what to say.
Doyle just grinned at him and went back to eating.
Uncertainly, Wesley picked up his own fork again and ate another bite, mostly because it was something to do. He tried to think of some topic of conversation that would be appropriately distracting and failed utterly.
"You look like someone snuck up behind you and walloped you with something large and heavy," Doyle observed after a moment.
"That's very observant of you," Wesley said. "That's exactly how I feel." He was trying to tell himself that it hadn't meant anything, and trying to convince himself that he didn't *want* it to have meant anything, and failing there as well.
"Y'know I never got that kind of reaction when I kissed anyone before I died. Though I can well imagine it being a regular occurrence for Cordelia."
"I'm not sure that I felt quite this... however it is I'm feeling... after Cordelia kissed me. Although granted it was only twice, and the first time was most certainly a disaster by all accounts." Wesley chanced a quick look at Doyle. "I'm sorry. I know it doesn't mean... anything in particular."
"I don't go around kissing random people, you might have noticed," Doyle pointed out.
That was true. "But... I don't understand."
"Maybe it's something that doesn't require a full dissertation of meaning," Doyle suggested. "Unless I make you... uncomfortable? What with what I am and all..."
"What you are -- *who* you are -- is precisely the problem," Wesley said, "although not because you make me uncomfortable." Damn it, it was uncanny how Doyle had the ability to worm these things out of him. He stood up abruptly, taking his plate to the sink.
It didn't provide the retreat he wanted because Doyle did the same, coming up beside him as he placed his own plate in the sink. "I think you're going to have to explain that comment to me."
"I'd really rather not," Wesley said helplessly, not turning his head to look at Doyle.
"Is it so terrible?" Doyle asked softly twisting in such a way as to catch Wesley's eye.
"That's more for you to say." Wesley turned the tap on and began to rinse the dishes, waiting until his hands were under the water before he said, "I may have feelings for you."
"Yeah, I kinda figured that out." Doyle touched Wesley's cheek with gentle fingers, until Wesley turned to look at him. "You're not alone in that."
"You... you knew?" That thought made Wesley feel so ashamed that for a moment he wasn't able to absorb the rest of what Doyle had said. Then, blinking and pulling his hands out of the sink, he said, "Wait. What?"
"I told you, I don't go around kissing random people. It's the kind of thing I need to there to be feelings to happen."
"But..." Wesley reached for a towel and began to dry his hands. "I don't know what to say." There was hope welling up inside him, as well as some guilt.
"It's an awkward situation to be sure," Doyle said easily. "What with my... history and all. And of course there's the whole Angel question..."
"The last thing I'd want would be to pressure you into anything," Wesley said, although he couldn't stop himself from taking Doyle's hand gently between his own damp ones. "Please, *please* don't feel that you have to make a decision any time soon. I'll still be here, still be your friend, no matter what."
"You do realise that if anyone was looking at this from the outside, they'd peg me as the one doing the pressuring, don't you?" Doyle took a step towards him; they were now so close that Wesley could feel Doyle's body heat. "I'm the one who should be making that little speech. Consider it made, by the way."
Wesley felt as if someone had knocked his feet out from under him. "Are you sure?"
Doyle gave a little laugh. "About as sure as I am of anything."
Deciding to take that in the best way possible, Wesley still couldn't help but file it away as he tentatively wrapped his arms around Doyle, feeling the not-unfamiliar curves of Cordelia's body against his own. Breathing into the short dark hair, he said softly, "Tell me if I shouldn't do this."
Doyle just smiled and remained conspicuously silent.
After a moment, Wesley pulled back, cupping Doyle's face between his hands and looking into those startling green eyes. "I know you're in love with Angel," he said. "I don't want that to be a question between us. It's just a fact."
Doyle nodded. "A fact just like your being in love with Angel too," he said, green eyes looking into Wesley's all too knowingly.
Wesley drew a somewhat less than steady breath. "It's rather disturbing how you do that," he said. "Am I that obvious?"
"I'm good at reading between the lines," Doyle said with a tiny smile. "Besides, it's easier to recognise feelings you're feeling yourself."
"All right then," Wesley said. "Yes, I have feelings for him too." He brushed one thumb over Doyle's lower lip. "Which are entirely separate from my feelings for you."
"So you're okay with the whole... gender confusion thing I've got going on?"
"You don't seem confused," Wesley said.
"You know what I mean. The whole," Doyle gestured at himself, "male half-demon in a female mostly human but not quite body. It doesn't really confuse me -- although yeah, it probably should -- but what we're talking about, the package becomes a bit more important."
"It's not an issue for me," Wesley said, hoping to be reassuring. "Whether you're in a female body or a male body, I'm attracted to you. I won't deny that it's pleasant that you look like Cordelia -- I can't imagine anyone would. But it's not the reason why I care for you."
"Okay," Doyle said with a grin. "Just wanted to get that all out of the way now." He slid his arms around Wesley's neck. "Now, where were we?"
Happy to pull Doyle close again, Wesley did so, running a hand up and down along the curve of his spine. "I think that's up to you."
"I think," Doyle said thoughtfully, "that you should kiss me again. And then that we should move this out of the kitchen."
"Kiss *you* again?" Wesley asked. "I thought it was the other way around. In fact, I'm sure of it."
"So kiss me for the first time then." Doyle gave him an easy grin.
Wesley did. It was, surprisingly, nothing like kissing Cordelia had been, despite the fact that it should have been. Doyle kissed completely differently and, truth be told, more skillfully. His lips parted beneath Wesley's, but otherwise the kiss was rather chaste, and when it ended, Wesley found himself looking into Doyle's eyes with a sense of wonder.
Doyle smiled at him. "I'm going to take it from that look that you liked that."
"Of course I did," Wesley said huskily. "Would you still be interested in moving this somewhere other than the kitchen?"
Doyle's grin turned slightly wicked. "Oh yeah. Somewhere more horizontal maybe?"
As much as he hated that he needed to ask, Wesley said, "Are you sure this is something you want to do? With me, I mean? I don't... I'm not interested in just one night."
"That's good, 'cause neither am I." Holding Wesley's gaze steadily, Doyle said seriously, "I'm sure. About wanting to do this and do it with you."
Wesley couldn't hide the smile on his own face. "All right. As long as you're sure. What do you think? The couch?" He was hesitant to suggest the bedroom.
Doyle it seemed, had no such qualms. "Bed has more room," he counter-suggested.
"Well, I'm hardly about to say 'no,'" Wesley told him, pulling him in for another kiss that left them both breathless.
"Good. Saves me having to change your mind to a yes."
"And you'd do that too, wouldn't you." Wesley brushed his lips over Doyle's again. "Manage to change my mind. Come on." Without waiting for a response, he began to lead Doyle toward the bedroom.
"I'd've given it the old college try at least. Though I'm quite happy to put my energy into other things."
Once inside the bedroom doorway, Wesley was happy to put his own energy into kissing Doyle repeatedly, running caressing hands up and down his back. "If you want to stop at any point, just tell me," he said, immediately claiming another kiss.
"I don't anticipate that being an issue," Doyle said between kisses.
"Even still," Wesley said, sliding both hands down to cup Doyle's behind and pull him in closer.
Doyle came willingly, pressing even closer than Wesley had pulled him. "You haven't done anything I disagree with so far."
"I'll certainly do my best not to." He was keeping himself distracted with talk in an attempt not to get too eager, because the last thing he wanted was to do anything to hurt Doyle. Doyle deserved to be treated with care. Still, when he felt that soft yielding body pressing against his own, Wesley had to remind himself firmly of things like research reports.
Pulling back just a little, Doyle nimbly started undoing Wesley's shirt while leaning in for another kiss, and it was getting difficult to remember why he was holding back.
"You're a wonderful kisser," Wesley said, more than happy to continue with just that and thrilled to feel Doyle's hands brushing against his skin.
"You're not so bad yourself." Having got Wesley's shirt open, Doyle now slid his hands in, running lightly over bare skin.
Wesley couldn't help but think that Doyle didn't really want *him*, that he was being used as a substitute for Angel, but in that moment he wasn't sure he cared. "You can be rougher than that if you like," he murmured into Doyle's ear.
Doyle pulled back to look at him assessingly, then another slow smile slid across his face. "I'll keep that in mind."
"I'm finding that I have a bit of a problem," Wesley said, sliding his right hand to Doyle's waist and leaving it there. "I'd very much like to see you naked, but I don't want to do anything without your permission."
Doyle looked at him, then reached down to take Wesley's hands in his own, bringing them to the tie that was holding his robe on. "Consider permission given."
With hands that he told himself didn't tremble at all, Wesley slowly undid the front of the robe, feeling the ache in his groin increase as the white fabric slid free of creamy shoulders and slipped to the floor, revealing Doyle in all his naked glory. "God," he said. "Now I have a new problem."
"And what's that?" Doyle asked with a smile, sliding his arms around Wesley's neck again and pressing close.
"I'd very much like to push you down onto the bed and have my way with you," Wesley said. His own arms went around Doyle's waist automatically.
"I'm not seeing how this is a problem."
Wesley walked Doyle backward toward the bed, then he gently pushed him down onto it. "Good," he said, letting his own shirt fall to the floor and undoing the fastenings on his trousers so that he could remove those as well.
Doyle watched him with the wicked grin that was fast becoming one of Wesley's favourite expressions. "Gotta like a man with initiative."
"Oh, initiative's one of the few things that's *not* a problem." Making short work of the rest of his clothing, Wesley crawled naked onto the bed between Doyle's thighs and bent down to press a soft kiss to Doyle's flat stomach before moving his mouth lower.
"Yeah, I can see that," Doyle said, the words a bit breathy as they came out on a gasp.
"You're incredible." Wesley pushed Doyle's thighs wider and slid two fingertips teasingly against his opening, already slick with arousal. He licked at Doyle's most sensitive spot, working it with his tongue until Doyle was making small sounds of pleasure.
"Definitely an 'A' in initiative," Doyle gasped, squirming under Wesley's touch.
Lifting his head, Wesley said, "Tell me what you like," as he slowly eased his fingers inside Doyle. "Keep talking to me." He needed the reassurance -- despite what he'd said before, he was a bit intimidated by not only the fact that Angel had been here first and most likely done it better, but by the knowledge that this -- a man in a woman's body -- was otherwise relatively uncharted territory.
Doyle laughed breathlessly. "What you're doing is good."
<i>I don't want it to be *good*, I want it to be remarkable.</i> But Wesley kept his insecurities to himself and concentrated on touching Doyle in ways that he imagined he'd like, himself, if he'd been transplanted into Cordelia's body. He thrust his fingers deeper and flicked his tongue again and again, listening to Doyle's breathing.
It was an excellent barometer to Doyle's reactions, the way it caught and sped up, depending on little adjustments Wesley made in what he was doing.
For his own part, Wesley felt rather as if he might die if his aching erection didn't get some attention soon, but he steadfastly ignored it and remained focused on Doyle. He slid one hand up along Doyle's torso to one taut nipple and pinched it very gently, aware that Doyle's condition might make it more sensitive than usual.
Doyle made a soft sound that was halfway between a whimper and a moan and Wesley could feel his muscles tensing.
"That's right," he breathed against Doyle's inner thigh, in that moment forgetting to compete with Angel and caring only about Doyle's pleasure. "Yes. Doyle." He withdrew his fingers and rubbed them over the slick spot his tongue had been concentrating on and moved up to take Doyle's nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking gently.
That seemed to be all it took. Beneath him, Doyle tensed and shuddered, coming with a near silent gasp on his lips.
When Doyle seemed to have caught his breath, Wesley slid up and kissed him, very aware of his erection pressed against Doyle's thigh as he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them, watching Doyle's face.
Doyle grinned at him, eyes still heavy-lidded with pleasure. "Just for future reference," he said, wrapping his arms around Wesley's neck and pulling him down to kiss again, "I liked that a lot."
"Good," Wesley said, smiling back. "I'm glad."
With a sudden burst of energy, Doyle surged up, pushing Wesley over onto his back and ended up straddling his hips. "My turn," he said, wearing that wicked grin again.
Wesley arched his body up against Doyle's and groaned softly. "I'm certainly not about to argue with you."
"Bright boy." Doyle slid down Wesley's body in an as enticing a manner as possible, until he closed a hand around Wesley's erection.
Biting down on his lower lip for control, Wesley stayed still and waited to see what Doyle intended. There was a very large part of him that wanted to throw himself into this encounter -- act as if they'd been together for some time -- but he didn't want to let it get the better of him, no matter how unbelievably turned on he was, no matter how Doyle... God, just stroked once with his hand...
"Tell me if I do anything you don't like. Or, for that matter anything you do." Another grin and Doyle was lowering his head and...
Wesley muffled a groan as Doyle's warm wet mouth engulfed the head of his erection. "God. Doyle... that. I like that."
Doyle chuckled, which caused his mouth to vibrate against Wesley's skin, and he took Wesley in deeper.
He trembled with the effort of not thrusting into that soft mouth, feeling as if every nerve ending in his body were newly awakening as Doyle did lovely swirling things with his tongue that made Wesley twitch and, occasionally, whimper. "Please..." he whispered, gasping.
Doyle seemed to be quite happy to continue what he was doing indefinitely, and even adding to it, sliding a hand down to cup Wesley's balls as he continued.
Not bothering to try to muffle his groan this time, Wesley reached a hand down and ran his fingers through Doyle's short hair, feeling his level of arousal growing to the point where he knew it wouldn't be long. "You're... God, so good at that..."
Doyle rewarded that with a slight scrape of teeth.
Wesley gave a low cry and shuddered, trying to hold back. "Doyle," he said, gasping a warning, "I'm... so close."
Lifting his head for a brief second, Doyle merely said, "Good," before resuming what he was doing.
That was all the reassurance Wesley needed. He could feel his entire body tightening up, tensed, straining in the moment before release, caught there, waiting... and then it rushed through him and out, flooding Doyle's mouth as Wesley gasped and shook with the force of it.
Doyle didn't let up until Wesley began to soften, then he pulled away and looked up at Wesley with a rather smug grin.
Still panting, Wesley made a small gesture with his head. "Come up here."
Eyes sparkling, Doyle did just that, sliding up Wesley's body and then doing a thorough job of kissing him.
"You're wonderful," Wesley said between kisses. "Spectacular. Have I mentioned that I'm very, very fond of you?"
"I kinda got that impression, yeah." Doyle settled down against Wesley's side, one hand running idly over Wesley's chest.
With his arm around Doyle, Wesley felt very content, but he was reluctant to assume he could stay that way. "How are you? Should I go and let you get some sleep?"
Doyle leaned up to look Wesley in the eye disbelievingly. "You snore or something?"
"No," Wesley said. "But I didn't want to assume..."
"Wes, I just had your cock in my mouth. Assume."
"All right." Wesley shifted down a bit and got more comfortable, cradling Doyle against his side protectively and pulling a sheet up over the both of them with a minimum of awkward maneuvering. "There. Are you comfortable?"
"Yeah." Doyle fell silent for a moment or two then asked, "So what am I going to have to do in the morning to keep you from backtracking on me?"
"What do you mean, backtracking?" Wesley suspected he knew, but it was clear that making assumptions wasn't the proper thing to do. Not with Doyle, at least.
"Y'know," Doyle waved a hand airily. "Backtracking to where you start thinking I don't actually want you here, or that this is just a one-night stand. Or... a casting call for an Angel replacement."
Wesley couldn't help but tense slightly at the mention of Angel's name -- he had to deliberately force himself to relax, turning his head and kissing Doyle's hair in an attempt to hide his reaction. "Exactly how *do* you want me here?"
"I'm kinda partial to naked and in my bed," Doyle teased.
"That's all well and good until you decide you want something from the store at 2 am," Wesley teased back. "Everything I've read assures me that sort of thing's to be expected." Then, more seriously, he said, "You don't have to decide now. We can take this day by day."
"We can take it day by day, if that makes you more comfortable, but," Doyle said, suddenly serious, "I already know that I want you here in whatever way you want to be here."
"I just..." Wesley rubbed his hand over Doyle's shoulder. "I'd like to stay. Not full time, not right away, but maybe eventually? And of course I'll be here whenever you need me."
"That works both ways y'know."
"What does?" Wesley asked, confused.
"The part about being here when needed. It works both ways. You need me, I'm going to be here."
Doyle was as serious as Wesley had ever seen him.
Unsure how to respond to something he hadn't anticipated hearing, Wesley had to clear his throat. He really hadn't considered the possibility that Doyle would want to take care of him. He'd thought, simply, that he had feelings for Doyle -- loved him -- and that that meant he was responsible for being there for him. "Thank you," he said awkwardly, with what he suspected was a hint of a question in his voice.
Doyle smiled and leaned in to kiss him. "You haven't had a lot of that in your life, have you? People to lean on."
Wesley didn't particularly want to admit that he hadn't, so he took Doyle's head between his hands and kissed him slowly, letting it last a long time.
When he finally pulled back, Doyle looked at him in a way that made Wesley's heart beat a bit faster. "That's changed now," Doyle said softly, laying a hand against Wesley's cheek. "I know it'll take you time to trust it, but it has. I promise."
With Doyle's hand on his face, Wesley thought that, in time, he just might
be able to believe it. Somewhere else, not as far away as you might think... Angel wasn't sleeping well in general, but on this night in particular he'd been lying in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think. It was the thinking that was his downfall -- once he got started, his brain just went in circles that always came back to Doyle and the heavy acceptance that he'd done what he had to.
Finally, at some point, he drifted off, still thinking. It felt like he'd hardly been asleep at all when he was suddenly woken by the sound of a familiar voice. "Doyle?" he said, only half-awake as he struggled to a sitting position.
"*No,*" that same voice said again. "Wake up, would you?"
Angel blinked sleep out of his eyes and focused. "Cordelia?"
"Well, I guess I should be thankful you didn't forget me," she said. "Unlike some people we could mention."
"What are you talking about?" Now that he was waking up, Angel could see the glow around Cordelia, a pale light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
"Doyle?" Cordelia said, putting her hands on her hips. "Does that ring a bell?"
Angel sighed. "No. And I haven't forgotten him, believe me." Thought about him pretty much every minute of the day, actually, to the point where sometimes he started to wonder if he was losing his mind.
"So it's just chronic stupidity that you're here, a thousand miles away, when he needs you?" Cordelia sounded frustrated.
That got Angel's attention even more, and he sat up straighter. "What do you mean? Is he okay? Did something -- "
"No," Cordelia said, her expression softening. "No, he's fine, other than the fact that the person he loves ran off and left him at pretty much the worst possible time. But I'm glad to know you still care."
"Of course I do."
"Then you want to explain to me why you're here and he's there?"
"Cordy... you know what happened the first time around. Don't you think that proves that this isn't the kind of situation I'm supposed to be part of?"
Cordelia shook her head. "Angel... things went wrong. Sometimes things go wrong. That doesn't mean that everything's going to keep going wrong. Well, unless you're a big dumb vampire who's too scared to face his responsibilities."
"I'm not -- " Angel started to protest, then he sighed and let his shoulders slump. "Is it that obvious?"
"Yes. And not just to me."
That wasn't a surprise -- Doyle and Wesley both had said as much during the couple of days when Angel had made the mistake of getting in touch, and he'd tried to deny it then too. Done a pretty good job of it, actually, even to himself. "You're right," Angel said. "I'm scared. I don't... I can't do this again."
"It wouldn't be 'again,'" Cordelia said gently. "This is your second chance, Angel. A fresh start. Things like this... they don't just happen, they happen for a reason."
Something in her voice made him look up. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that the Powers think you deserve another shot at it -- the whole being a dad thing, I mean. This is their way of trying to make it up to you. They let Doyle get pregnant -- and wow, that's such a weird sentence -- on purpose."
Angel felt his gut clench in cold fear. "What, they don't think I've been through enough? One more round of 'put Angel through the wringer?'"
"Only if that's what you want it to be, and I'm starting to think you do," Cordelia said bluntly. "God, open your eyes! You're being given a second chance here! And you're willing to just walk away from it -- from *Doyle,* who loves you? -- just because you're scared?"
"Scared doesn't begin to cover it," Angel admitted.
"I know. I understand, I do, but you're better than this, Angel. I believe that, and, more importantly, so does Doyle. He needs you."
Not for the first or the thousandth time, Angel felt guilt threaten to overwhelm him. "When I found out... I just didn't know what to do. It was like a nightmare. Literally." He felt even guiltier just saying it out loud, but he sure as hell was never going to admit it to Doyle, so he might as well tell Cordelia.
Cordelia nodded. "I get that. And maybe it felt that way, but it's not true. It's your chance to make it right."
Angel lifted his eyes to hers. "What if I can't?" he whispered.
"What if you *can?*" Cordelia met his gaze.
"What if I go back and it's worse for them? What if me being there just leads to another situation like Holtz?"
"What if you *not* being there leads to something happening to Doyle?" Cordelia seemed determined to talk him into this. "I don't know if he can do this without you, but even if he can, should he *have* to?"
Angel felt a sudden upsurge of hope that almost immediately dissipated when he thought of what he'd done. "It doesn't matter. I already fucked things up -- there's no way he'd take me back now, not after all this time." It had been weeks since they'd been in contact -- Doyle must have had the sense to give up on him by now.
Cordelia's hand twitched. "You know, if I was corporeal, I'd totally smack you. Can you do me a favor and try, for once in your unnaturally long life, *not* to act like a complete jerk? Doyle *loves* you. And he'll forgive you for being an idiot." She smirked. "You know, after a lot of groveling."
"Is he okay?" Angel asked again.
"Yeah. But he misses you. I mean, he's trying to move on, like you wanted him to, but there's a part of him that's still hoping you'll come back." Cordelia smiled a little bit sadly.
"I don't want to hurt him any more than I already have," Angel said, but for the first time he was actually considering it.
"You probably will," Cordelia said. "But that's life. And if you *don't* go back, you'll definitely keep hurting him."
Angel looked at her, then he nodded hesitantly. "Okay. I mean, I'm not making any promises, but... I'll talk to him." Thinking about it filled him with a sick dread, but there was a little spark of hope again, and he tried to hold on to that.
"Good," Cordelia said. "I know this isn't easy, but... I also know it'll be worth it." Her image shifted and began to fade. "This is your chance to be happy, Angel. Don't screw it up."
"I won't," he said quickly. "And... Cordy? I... thanks."
She smiled again, more genuinely this time. "You're welcome," she said, and vanished in a brilliant flare of light.
Angel twitched, blinked, and opened his eyes, slowly realizing that he'd been dreaming.
He took a deep breath, got up, and got dressed.
|