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"My car pool," Angel said, like he was being reasonable. "I thought I'd drive."
"You mean the car pool of the evil law firm you've abandoned for the last couple of months? The one Wes and I have been running?" All right, that might have been a low blow, Doyle admitted privately, but... It was *his* car.
"You said you were just borrowing it," Angel pointed out.
"Same car I've been borrowing every time I needed wheels." He shrugged. "Feels pretty much like mine by now."
"So you don't want me to drive?" Angel asked.
Doyle raised an eyebrow. "I think the relevant question here would be is there some reason you don't want me to drive? Considering I drove down here and it being my loaner car and all."
"I just thought..." Angel trailed off, sounding like he wasn't sure he wanted to finish.
"Yeah, I know what you thought. I can drive just fine, okay?"
Visibly deflated, Angel handed back the keys. "Okay. Whatever you want."
"Glad we got that cleared up." But Doyle stared at Angel for a moment, not relishing the long drive back with a brooding vampire pouting in the passenger seat. Sighing he put the keys back in Angel's hand. "But since I'm such a magnanimous and generous soul, I'll let you drive this time."
"Are you sure?" Angel looked at him uncertainly. "I mean, if you want to drive, that's okay. Honest."
"Just as long as you remember that," Doyle said with a grin. "Go ahead. You'd fidget too much if I made you ride shotgun."
"Okay." As they got into the car, Angel said, "I guess I should be glad there's a parking garage."
"Yeah, this conversation wouldn't have been the same if I'd been having it with a blanket. Or with a pile of dust if you'd forgotten the blanket." Doyle settled into the passenger seat. "Good thing about the necro tempered glass too."
"Gives the west coast a whole new meaning," Angel agreed. "Well, you know, to a vampire, at least."
"We'll make a Californian sun worshipper out of you yet," Doyle teased.
"Somehow, I don't think so," Angel said, starting the car and then adjusting the seat back at least five or six inches.
"I'd say something about trying to make me feel short, if it wasn't for the fact I'm actually taller now than I was before I died. So I'm used to feeling short."
"I like you this way," Angel said, shooting Doyle a look before glancing back over his shoulder and pulling out of the parking space. "Which isn't to say I didn't like you, you know, before."
"Yeah, I've kinda got that impression."
Doyle smiled, remembering Angel proving how much he liked him before they'd checked out of the hotel. "I like you too."
Angel waited until they were out of the garage and on the street to say, "Wes thinks you're choosing me over him. Or... well, that you would. If you had to choose." He said it like he was worried about what Doyle's answer might be.
Sighing, Doyle leaned back against the headrest, wondering how he suddenly became the secure and confident one. "He's wrong." He turned his head to look at Angel. "I'm not choosing either of you over the other."
Maybe Angel relaxed a little bit at that. Maybe not. "You shouldn't have to choose."
"It's not so much a matter of shouldn't as a matter of can't." He slid a hand over to rest on Angel's on the gear shift. "Not sure if that makes me indecisive or greedy. Maybe both. Don't really care though."
"After what... well. You deserve as much support as we can give you. Both of us." Angel sighed. "I think he's really worried, though."
"I know." Doyle closed his eyes. "But other than trying to keep showing him he doesn't have reason to be, I don't know what I can do to help."
The hum of the engine was almost silent, the radio turned off. "Maybe he'll relax about it once things settle down."
"Maybe." Doyle opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Angel again. "What about you? How you doing with all of this?"
"Okay." It sounded like an automatic response, so he waited until Angel gave a real answer. "I don't know."
"Guess that's better than 'horrible'," Doyle reflected.
"Not horrible," Angel said reassuringly. "Still a little stunned, maybe. I mean, I'm still pretty stunned about..." He reached out and rested his right hand briefly against the small swell of Doyle's abdomen.
Doyle smiled wryly. "Yeah, you and me both. Figure I might get over being stunned about the time the kid's graduating high school."
"That soon?" Angel asked, putting his hand back on the wheel.
"I'm an optimist."
"Yeah, you are." Angel smiled fondly. "It's good to know I didn't wreck that."
"Wreck it?" He shot a look of surprise at the vampire. "If anything you're the one who helped me get it back. You might not have noticed but I wasn't exactly all that together when the Powers first sent me to you."
"Maybe not. But you were together in ways that I wasn't. It was nice to know that there was someone who understood. Had faith in me." Angel glanced at him. "You did, didn't you."
"Yeah." Doyle smiled. "I don't think I ever met a real hero before I met you."
Angel's hands tightened on the wheel, but all he said was, "I just want to do right by you. Everything else comes second to that."
Doyle wondered, not for the first time if Angel would have been quite so chivalric and possessive if he'd been in his own, male body. Course if he had been, there wouldn't have been any pregnancy so the whole situation wouldn't have come up anyway.
It was an impossible situation to figure out what ifs for and Doyle did his best just to not even try, instead accepting things as they were with as little freaking as he could manage.
"As long as you do right by yourself too, I can't complain," he finally replied.
"You're going to have to give me and Wesley some time, I think," Angel said. "To get used to the whole idea. There's a lot of... well, you know. History."
"I know." Doyle glanced briefly over at Angel's profile. "It means a lot just that you're trying."
"We both are. It's not any easier on him than it is on me."
"I know," Doyle said again, feeling more than a twinge of guilt. "I'm putting the two of you through a lot aren't I?"
"Now, I know you haven't been drinking, so I'm not sure what I'm supposed to blame that question on." Angel patted Doyle's thigh. "We both want to be with you. We'll work it out."
"From famine to feast," Doyle muttered, his natural sense of humor quickly reasserting itself. "Try as I can, I can't turn down any of the courses."
Angel was silent for a long minute. "You can, you know," he said finally. "If this isn't what you want -- all me and Wes want is for you to be happy."
Doyle rolled his eyes. "I'm going to make up a tape of me saying, 'I want you. No, really.' and then give both you and Wes copies. Will save my voice having to repeat it over and over."
"I'd probably just drop it on the floor and step on it," Angel said, giving him a strained sort of grin. "I promise I won't do that with the... the baby, though." He still said it with a sense of wonder.
"Didn't think you would, what with your -- " Doyle caught himself before he could say 'experience'; reminding Angel any more than necessary about the too brief time he had Connor was probably not a good idea. "Vampire reflexes and all."
Angel swallowed. "It's okay to talk about him," he said quietly.
"I don't want to hurt you," Doyle said softly.
"It always does," Angel said. "Talking about it doesn't make it worse." There was something in his tone, though, that told Doyle he wasn't quite sure that was true.
Deciding to test the waters a little, Doyle offered, "I'd love to hear more about him." He paused. "But only if you want to tell me."
"He was..." Angel cleared his throat. "He was just this amazing baby. He was so happy."
Doyle felt a pang for Angel and what he lost, stronger now that circumstances that he could more personally relate. "Course he was. He was your son."
"It's weird... when I think back, it's like I hardly had him at all, but then, there are so many little details that I remember. The way he smiled. The way his eyes had these tiny flecks of darker blue in them." Angel was watching the road in front of them determinedly.
"It's not weird," Doyle said softly. "When you love someone you tend to be good at remembering all the little details about them."
"Yeah." Angel continued to watch the road.
Deciding that it was probably time to leave the subject of Connor for a while, Doyle tried to bring the subject to the present and the possibilities they had now. "What do you think this baby's going to look like?"
Angel seemed to consider the question. "I don't know. I guess it depends on where the genetics came from. Although, egg... guess that'd be Cordy."
"Maybe..." Doyle frowned, the thought that the child they were talking about not having any of him bothering him more than he would have predicted.
"You don't want the baby to look like Cordy?" Angel asked. "I mean... you? Technically."
Doyle managed a grin. "A kid can do a lot worse than having Cordelia's genes." He sighed and shrugged. "Guess I just want to see some of me there too."
"There will be," Angel said. "There has to be. Even if it's not physical, it'll be there."
Doyle did his best to believe that. After all, this was all an impossible situation already; why shouldn't they add one more impossible thing to it? "I haven't really thought about this up to now," he said by way of explanation. He gave a small smile. "Still takes some getting used to."
Angel reached over and took his hand. "Yeah, I know the feeling. You okay? You want me to stop?"
"I'm fine." He shook off the worry as best he could and gave Angel his most genuine smile. "Keep going." After all he already knew that it didn't matter if this child carried any Doyle genes or not; it wasn't going to change any of their feelings toward it.
"I love you," Angel said gently. "And I'm going to be here for you. Whatever you need."
Doyle smiled and reached for Angel's hand, doing his best to dismiss his concerns about the baby's genetics as unimportant in the grander scheme of things. "I know. I'm pretty fond of you myself."
"And... it's okay to worry about stuff. And talk about it, if it helps." Angel's voice was soothing.
"That sounds familiar," Doyle teased.
"Yeah, well... sometimes I learn stuff. It just takes a while." Angel grinned at him.
"Since I love you, I won't point out just how long a while it takes."
"You should be grateful that at least one of the things I've learned actually benefits you," Angel said.
"Oh there's lots of things you've learned that benefit me." Doyle gave Angel his best leer.
"I'm trying to drive, here, so I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that," Angel said.
"Two hundred plus years and you can't multitask?" Doyle asked, happy that the conversation was lightening.
"Not when I'm trying to make sure nothing happens to you," Angel said.
That wasn't something Doyle could really argue with. "There goes my plans to amuse myself on the drive back," he said with mock pathos.
"You could tell me how things have been going at the office?" Angel suggested, more like he was trying to be helpful than like he really wanted to know.
"Everything's under control there," Doyle said, not really wanting to go into the minutiae of how he and Wes had divided up the responsibility for maintaining the fiction that Angel was still in charge. They could have asked the others, Gunn and Fred and Lorne to help, but that would involve explaining things that they didn't want to get into. Things like Connor.
Angel nodded. "Good. Do you think..." He hesitated. "Is Wesley going to want me to come back? To the office, I mean."
"Angel, it's your office still."
"But Wes stepped in and took over. With your help, sure, but... well. It seems like asking him to give up a lot all at once."
"Wes stepped in to make it look like you were still there, in spirit if not in body," Doyle said bluntly. "Now that you are here in body as well, lot easier to go with the reality instead of an illusion."
"But... he didn't tell anyone I was gone?" Angel sounded surprised.
Doyle shook his head. "You were, obviously, not in the building, but we didn't tell anyone that you'd ran for the hills."
"I didn't -- " Angel started to deny it, then obviously changed his mind. "Well, yeah, okay, I did. But that still doesn't explain why he didn't... why *you* didn't tell anyone."
"Because the Senior Partners gave the evil law firm to *you*; with everything else happening, we didn't want to see if they were going to get cranky about your temporary abdication."
"What would you have done if it wasn't temporary?" Angel asked.
"Didn't have to figure that out, did we?" Doyle asked, wondering how many times he was going to have to tell Angel that he knew he was coming back.
"No, but... you took a chance, didn't you? The Senior Partners wouldn't have been happy if they'd found out you were covering up the fact that I was gone." Angel sounded frustrated. "What if they'd taken it out on you?"
"They didn't find out," Doyle pointed out in his most reasonable voice.
"What if they -- they don't know about the baby, do they?" Frustration morphed into panic, though Doyle noted that Angel's concentration on the road in front of them didn't waver.
"We haven't been sending them weekly updates or anything, no." Doyle admitted to himself that he didn't want to have the Senior Partners' attention or interest, but he was determined not to borrow trouble. Besides, given the situation, there was a ready made blind already in place. "I think most people who know I'm pregnant think it's Wesley's anyway."
Angel looked more than a little bit stunned at that. "Yeah. Yeah. It's probably better that way."
Doyle quickly added, "Not that I've told them that. Nobody's really asked me one way or the other. They just look around at who I've been spending time with and make the most plausible guess."
"Do a lot of people know?" Angel glanced over at him, his expression hard to figure out.
"That I've got a bun in the oven?" Doyle shook his head. "Medical does, obviously, and your friends -- Fred and Gunn and Lorne. Harmony too -- guess after a bit it's something you vampires can smell? But I haven't been broadcasting it around."
"Maybe... well, talk about with Wesley, but maybe when there's no hiding it anymore, that's what you should tell people. That it's Wesley's."
Doyle gave that suggestion all of five seconds thought. "No."
"It'd be safer," Angel argued. "For you and the baby."
"No." He was going to out-stubborn Angel on this point if nothing else.
"At least talk to Wesley about it," Angel said, like he thought Wesley would be on his side.
"Do I have to explain what 'no' means?" Doyle asked exasperated.
"I know what 'no' means. I just think you're being an idiot," Angel said.
Doyle narrowed his eyes. "There's an idiot in this car, but I wouldn't say it was me."
"It sure as hell is if you won't listen to reason," Angel said.
"This isn't about reason, this is about family," Doyle shot back. "You gave up all claim to your son because it was the only way to keep him safe. I'm not letting you do that again."
"I'll do it again if I have to," Angel said. "And this wouldn't... it wouldn't be the same. It would only be what other people thought."
"No."
"Doyle..."
"It's not fair to you and it's not fair to Wesley either, asking him to pretend something like that. Most of all it's not fair to the baby. She shouldn't have to lie about who her father is."
"You're not -- " Angel paused. "She?"
Doyle blinked. "I did say she didn't I?"
"Yeah. But I thought you didn't know..."
"I don't." He glanced down at himself, and put a hand on his stomach. "Do I?"
Angel hesitated, then reached over and put his hand over Doyle's. It felt strong and comforting. "Maybe you do."
The hotel was dusty, the air stale, when Angel arrived. He found it depressing, actually, and spent no small amount of time propping open doors and trying to make the place seem a little less abandoned. Like this, it was harder not to see the ghosts. Not to remember what it was like to have Connor there, and Cordy, and how, for a while, everything had seemed like it was going to work out.
Not that it had. Obviously.
He tried to remind himself that Cordelia had said this was his chance to get things right. She probably hadn't been counting on Wesley as part of the equation, but Angel was determined to do what he could to make this turn out okay.
He tidied up as best he could, eventually shutting the doors again, and went in search of some glasses. They had to be washed. He'd brought a couple of bottles of liquor with him, thinking that they might need it, and he was just setting the now-clean glasses down next to the brown paper bag on the counter when he heard the front door open.
Wesley came in, dressed in his usual business casual, his expression... well the only word for it was guarded. He looked at Angel, nodded once even in acknowledgment but Angel couldn't tell what he was thinking at all.
He felt a brief pang of loss at that; Wes' face used to be so open, that practically every stray thought was there if you bothered to look.
"Hi," Angel said, staying where he was.
"Hello," Wes replied, crossing the lobby floor to where Angel was standing.
Angel looked down at Wesley's shoes. Nice shoes. "So..."
"So." Wes wasn't being much help.
"You, um... you want to sit down?" Angel asked.
Wes looked like he was going to decline but then wordlessly moved to the office and sat in one of the chairs there.
After a few seconds, Angel chose a chair not too close to Wesley's and sat down, too. "How are you?"
"Good." Wes crossed his arms over his chest.
"You don't want to be here, do you," Angel said.
"Do you?" Wes countered.
"Here in particular? Not that much." Angel sighed. "But I want us to work things out, yeah."
Wesley seemed to relax a little at that. "It's easier in email," he said, as offering an apology.
"Yeah." Angel was glad they could find something to agree on. "We don't have to look at each other." He realized immediately how that sounded. "Not that I don't want to look at you. I like looking at you. I mean -- "
That actually pulled the faintest of smiles from Wesley. "I know what you mean. It's all right."
"Thanks." Angel smiled back tentatively. "So... this shouldn't be too hard, right? I mean, we both want the same thing." Again, he realized too late how stupid he sounded. "We both want Doyle to be happy. And safe."
"Yes. And Doyle seems rather determined to make sure the same of us."
Angel met Wesley's eyes for a second. "You think we can do this?"
"I don't know," Wes said with a raw sounding honesty. "But we have to try."
"We'll figure it out," Angel said. "It might take us a while, but... isn't there some kind of saying about how things that are worth doing aren't easy?"
"Probably more than one," Wes said, smiling faintly again.
"I want stuff to be okay again, with us." It was easier to say than Angel would have guessed. "Better than okay. I miss that."
Wesley closed his eyes briefly and Angel thought he could see the beginnings of cracks in the mask of reserve the other man was wearing. "So do I."
"Any ideas on where to start?" Angel asked. "I had this idea that maybe we could have a few drinks..." Maybe it had been a stupid idea.
Wes considered, then tilted his head to the side as he said, "I've heard worse ideas."
"Does that mean you want one?" Angel got up and went over to the paper bag, pulling out the two bottles he'd bought earlier. "I remembered seeing you drink both of these, but I couldn't remember which was your favorite."
Wesley looked at him for a long moment, did a slow blink, then got up and crossed over to where Angel was standing. "This one," he said softly, touching the bottle Angel was holding in his left hand.
Angel nodded, more than a little overwhelmed by how close Wesley was. "Okay."
"You really noticed what type of scotch I drink?"
"Yeah." Slowly, Angel set the other bottle down and opened the first one, pouring some of the whisky into each of the two glasses and handing a glass to Wesley.
Wes looked down at his glass and the golden liquid in it. "You really aren't just here because Doyle asked you to talk to me, are you?"
"No," Angel said gently. He wanted to say more, to be reassuring, but he wasn't sure how to go about it.
"That's... encouraging to hear."
Still, Wesley looked uncertain, so Angel suggested, "You want to sit down again? Or we could go somewhere else?"
Wesley seemed to consider for a minute, then nodded back to the office. "Might as well sit back down again."
"Okay." Angel hated this -- hated feeling awkward, not knowing what to say. He trailed after Wesley, sitting back down in the chair he'd abandoned a minute before, and sighed. "So... I guess we should talk."
"Yes." Wesley gave him another of those faint smiles. "As difficult as it seems to be to start."
"I'm not sure what we're supposed to say," Angel agreed. He took a huge swallow of whisky and sighed again.
"That would make two of us." Wes looked down at his drink and then offered, "We could start with the email, what we were discussing there?"
"About... you and me?" Angel asked it tentatively.
Wesley gave a short nod.
"Do you... did you change your mind? About that part of it?" He couldn't be sure, not considering how Wesley was acting.
"No," Wes said sharply, looking up and meeting Angel's eye for a second before looking away again. "I haven't changed my mind," he said more softly.
"Okay," Angel said. "That's... good. I'm glad." It was easier to study Wesley's face when Wes wasn't looking at him, to note the little lines around his eyes that probably meant he'd had a long night without much sleep. "I haven't changed mine, either."
That brought another ghost of a smile, there and gone so quickly Angel almost missed it. "I suppose that's a place to start then."
"Yeah, but what else is there to say? That kind of says it all." Rather glumly, Angel looked down at his glass. "Maybe we need to drink more."
"I'm not sure that that will be much help." Nonetheless Wesley tossed his drink back in one swallow.
"I'll get the bottle," Angel said, and did so. He came back with it and dragged his chair closer to Wesley's, offering him the bottle of scotch.
"Thanks." Wesley poured himself another glass, then handed the bottle back. "This shouldn't be this difficult, should it? We both want things the way they used to be, we both have feelings for the other... shouldn't that make it easier?"
"It's the talking about it that trips me up," Angel admitted, pouring more whisky into his own glass and drinking it. The warmth as the alcohol settled into his stomach did relax him, at least. "Maybe we should have done this with Doyle here."
"He'd be rolling his eyes at both of us, I suspect."
Angel nodded. "Probably. It's so easy for him. Well, the talking part is." He felt a familiar wave of guilt, remembering how upset Doyle had been when he'd first left.
"Doyle definitely has the gift of the gab," Wesley agreed. "I would say it was an Irish thing, what with the Blarney Stone and all, if you weren't Irish as well."
"I think it's just a Doyle thing. He's unique that way." Angel looked at Wesley. "It's okay for you to be mad at me for leaving him the way I did. You have a right to be."
"Thank you for your permission although I wasn't aware I needed it for my own feelings." Wesley's voice grew sharper. "And mad may be too mild a term for what I felt."
Angel slouched a little bit in his chair. "I didn't mean... I didn't mean that you needed permission. I just... I wanted you to know that I understand."
"You hurt him," Wesley said bluntly.
"I know," Angel said. "And trust me, there's no way you could possibly hate me as much as I hate myself for doing that. I won't do it again."
Wesley was silent for a long moment, then said quietly, "I don't hate you."
"Well, at least that's one of us," Angel said. He drank the whisky in his glass all at once and leaned back, closing his eyes. "You probably should, though."
"It would probably make things easier," Wes agreed, then sighed. "But nothing's ever been easy in my life."
"I'm sorry," Angel said. He was only apologizing for himself, really, but he was sorry. "I know you said... but I am."
"I believe you. And if Doyle can forgive you, I suppose it would be very small-minded of me not to do the same."
"I want to make it up to you," Angel said, pouring himself another drink and setting the bottle down on the floor between them.
Wesley spread his arms in an 'I'm game' gesture. "How?"
"I don't know," Angel admitted sheepishly. "I was hoping you might have some ideas."
"Other than taking care of Doyle?" Wesley shook his head. "Nothing comes to mind."
"I want to take care of you, too," Angel said. "Isn't that... isn't that what this is about?"
"Is it?" It seemed like an honest question.
"Yeah," Angel said. He looked at Wesley, waiting for Wes to meet his eyes. "Yeah, it is."
Wes met his gaze and didn't look away. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it without any words passing his lips.
Angel thought for a second, then reached out grabbed onto Wesley's chair, sliding it across the floor until it hitched up against the side of his own. He leaned closer to Wes, still watching his face, a confusing mixture of emotions swirling through him. "I want to take care of you," Angel said again, his voice husky.
He watched as Wesley's tongue darted out and licked at his lips nervously. "Angel-"
"Shh," Angel said, and, hoping that he wasn't making a mistake, he leaned in the rest of the way and kissed Wesley gently.
For long seconds Angel though he had made a mistake because Wesley wasn't responding, but then with a small sound, Wesley began kissing him back.
Angel rested his hand on Wes' knee, concentrating on being as unthreatening as possible even as he got distracted by the taste and feel of Wesley's mouth. He kept the kiss gentle, slow.
Wesley finally pulled back, looking at him with his feelings clearly visible in his eyes. "That does cut right to it, doesn't it?"
"It's easier without all those words," Angel said, taking another chance and moving his hand up to cup the side of Wesley's face.
"It is," Wesley agreed, leaning in to kiss him again.
Angel hadn't realized how hungry he was for more contact with Wesley until just then. He couldn't help but run his other hand along Wesley's side, feeling the warmth of him under his cotton shirt, couldn't help but lengthen the kiss as long as Wes would let him get away with it.
Wesley was touching him as well, one hand sliding up into Angel's hair, the other resting on Angel's arm as they continued to kiss.
"If this isn't -- " Angel tried to start, at one point, but lost track of what it was he'd been about to say. It wasn't until half a minute later that he remembered, "This only goes as far as you want it to. If... you have to say."
"It only goes as far as we both want it," Wesley corrected him.
Angel was already kissing Wesley again, so he just nodded, not really agreeing so much as wanting to placate, because he didn't want to stop. He wanted to strip off all their clothes and taste every inch of Wes' body, to hear Wes cry out as he came.
Wesley wasn't doing anything that would discourage such thoughts; his hands were now moving over Angel's torso in light touches he almost couldn't feel through his shirt, and the kiss was turning far more teasing, tantalizing.
Angel groaned softly in frustration and pulled Wesley out of the chair and into his lap. "This okay?" he asked, although Wes hadn't given any indication that it wasn't.
"I've no complaints," Wesley replied, diving back into the kiss again, his nimble fingers beginning to undo the buttons of Angel's shirt.
That was when Angel decided that he had to trust Wes to stop him if it was necessary, and when he stopped being quite so careful. He started to unbutton Wes' shirt at the same time Wes finished undoing his, warm hands against his skin making him gasp. "Wesley."
"Angel," Wesley breathed barely audible in reply, permission of sorts, and even more than that an invitation.
He pulled Wes in closer, inhaled the scent of his bare skin before pressing an almost reverent kiss to his chest. He slid a hand around to the small of Wes' back, underneath his shirt, holding Wesley still as he explored one nipple with lips and tongue.
Wesley's breath caught at that, his hands tightening their grip on Angel's shoulders.
"I want to make you feel good," Angel murmured, tracing a damp circle on Wesley's skin and sliding his hand slowly up Wes' inner thigh.
"You're off to an excellent start," Wes told him, shifting slightly under his touch.
"Tell me what you like." Angel slid his hand a bit higher.
Instead of answering, Wesley asked, "What do you like?" as he slid his fingers along Angel's flesh revealed by his open shirt.
"You're not supposed to answer a question with a question," Angel said. He moved his hand up to cup Wesley's erection and rubbed his thumb over the head. "I want to feel you come. Taste you." He wanted to do a lot more than that.
A tiny shiver went through Wes at Angel's words that Angel only felt because they were pressed together. "I think that could possibly fall under what I would like too."
Angel licked his lips and pulled Wesley down for another kiss, more awkward now because of their position. Then, "Here, stand up," he urged, moving Wes bodily until he was standing in front of Angel's chair. Slowly, Angel undid the front of Wes' trousers.
Wesley shifted until he was leaning back against the desk behind him. "This may have been something I've fantasized about," he said almost conversationally.
Angel slid Wesley's slacks and boxers down over his hips and licked his shaft, smiling as Wesley made a little choked sound. "Tell me."
"I... uh..." Wesley faltered as Angel licked again. "Just this. You, me, this office."
"Me doing this?" Angel asked, fondling Wes' balls and listening as his heartbeat quickened.
Wesley's eyes were drifting closed. "Yes."
It had been a long time since Angel had sucked another man's cock, but he was more than eager to taste Wesley's. He slid his lips down over the shaft, careful to be gentle, letting Wes' heat warm the inside of his mouth.
Wesley shifted very slightly under Angel's attentions, spreading his legs wider and pushing up into Angel's mouth; his fingers gripped the edge of the desk in a white knuckled grip.
That simple, subtle sign of Wesley's arousal made Angel want more. Not needing to breathe, he took Wesley in all the way, massaging his cock with lips and tongue, sliding both hands around to grip the strong muscles in Wesley's ass and encourage him to fuck his mouth.
"Oh dear lord," Wesley groaned as he took the wordless encouragement and began moving as Angel wanted him to.
That was what he wanted -- Wes thrusting into his willing mouth, Wes' hot, living cock between his lips. Angel moaned softly and sucked harder, anxious to feel Wes come.
He could tell Wes was close by the increasing raggedness of his movements and the small, desperate sounds that he was making almost under his breath. Just a little bit more and...
Wesley was close to silent when he came, his hand clutching Angel's shoulder as his body convulsed. Angel let the taste of Wesley linger on his tongue before swallowing, coaxing one and then two last shudders from Wes.
As Wes relaxed, he let go of his grip on Angel's shoulder, instead sliding his hand up to cup Angel's cheek.
Angel drew back slightly and looked up at Wes. "That the kind of thing you were thinking of?"
"It's a fairly close approximation, yes," Wes replied, his voice still husky.
Standing up, Angel kissed Wes again, letting his hands roam over bare skin where they could. "I have some other ideas we could try out. If you wanted."
"I could probably be persuaded." Wesley's hands were exploring him in light random touches. "Perhaps even add some ideas of my own."
"Oh yeah?" Angel picked Wes up and sat him on the edge of the desk, divesting him of the rest of his clothes while he had the opportunity.
"Yes. Such as you undressing as well for one thing."
"We can do that." Angel quickly pulled off his own shirt, letting it drop to the floor, then held his arms out at his sides. "You want to do the next part?"
Wes gave him a predatory smile as he ran his hands down Angel's now bare chest and then slowly began undoing his pants.
Angel closed his eyes briefly when Wes' hand brushed against his erection, but he opened them again because he wanted to be able to see Wes.
His pants were soon pushed down and he stepped out of them. "Much better," Wes declared, running both his gaze and hands over Angel's body.
"Yeah," Angel agreed, somehow not at all surprised to find out how good Wesley's touch felt. "God, this is..." He suddenly realized that they were naked in the office, and worried that Wes might have preferred something else. Somewhere else. "Is this okay?"
Wesley raised an eyebrow at him. "Is there some reason it wouldn't be?"
"Because this is..." Angel gestured at the room. "You should be someplace nicer."
Wesley looked around the room and then back at Angel. "I think," he said slowly, sliding his hands down Angel's chest, "that this is the perfect place for us to..."
"To what?" Angel whispered after a few seconds, closing his eyes again as Wesley's hands slid lower.
"To do what we're doing." Wes' hand skimmed over Angel's abdomen then closed around his cock.
"God," Angel said, pushing eagerly into Wes' touch.
"So do you still have a problem with the location?" Wes asked as he tightened his grip.
"Problem?" Angel echoed faintly. "No. No problem." He reconsidered. "Well, other than the fact that I'm not fucking you yet. Which I'd really... like to do."
He could hear Wesley's heart speed up at that. "That could be arranged."
Angel kissed Wesley. "I thought about this sometimes," he murmured. "Fucking you right here in the office."
"We both seemed to have done quite a lot of thinking when we could have been acting," Wesley observed, continuing to stroke Angel.
"The time wasn't... right." Angel moaned softly to let Wes know what an incredible touch he had. "It was... God, I don't want to hurt you. Never again. We shouldn't..."
Wesley's hand stopped moving. "We shouldn't what?"
"Don't stop," Angel begged. "I just meant we shouldn't hurt each other."
"Oh." The sudden defensiveness that had snuck into Wesley's expression vanished and his hand started moving again. "That I can agree with."
"Good," Angel said, tightening his arm around Wesley's waist. "Because you've got me in kind of a vulnerable position here."
"I have noticed that," Wes said with a wicked grin.
"Oh yeah? You planning on taking advantage of me?"
Wesley tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "Technically, I think it would be defined as letting you take advantage of me... if we're still talking about shagging on the desk?"
"I hoped we were," Angel said, running his hand down along Wes' spine to his ass.
Wes shifted and pushed back into Angel's hand. "Far be it for me to dash your hopes."
Angel caught Wes' lips with his own and kissed him thoroughly, drawing it out as long as he could. Which turned out to be a pretty long time. "God, I want you."
"Want you too." The words were almost breathless as Wesley immediately dove back into the kiss.
"I don't suppose," Angel said, between kisses, "that you have any lube? Because... wasn't expecting this."
"Neither was I," Wesley muttered. He pulled back and looked around. "There's got to be something we can use around here..."
Angel went around to the other side of the desk and started opening drawers, noting the thin layer of dust on the wooden surface. "Pens, paper clips..." He opened another drawer.
In the second drawer, he found dusty folders that hadn't been refiled, a legal pad covered in what looked like some translation work that Wesley had done at sometime in the past, and a tube of hand cream.
"What about this?" he asked, holding it up so Wes could see.
Wes peered at it. "Cordelia's isn't it? I suppose considering the circumstances we can make do with it."
"Considering the circumstances," Angel echoed, wondering what Cordelia thought of all of this. What if they were doing the wrong thing?
Wesley frowned as he watched Angel. "We don't have to use it -- or even go through with this if you'd-"
"No," Angel said, shutting the drawer and going back over to Wesley. "No, I want to. Unless you...?"
"I wouldn't be sitting naked on my old desk if I didn't," Wesley pointed out logically.
Angel smiled. "No, but that doesn't mean you can't change your mind. Any time." Still, he couldn't resist touching Wes, stroking one hand gently along his bare hip and marveling at the warmth of his skin.
"I won't."
That was reassuring. "Okay," Angel said. He set the hand cream down next to Wesley and leaned in until their mouths were almost touching. "No more interruptions."
"Don't tempt fate," Wesley replied, then closed the distance and kissed Angel hard enough to take away his nonexistent breath.
With both hands on Wesley's hips, Angel kissed back, forcing Wes' mouth open with his own so he could taste the inside. Their teeth clashed and Angel moaned, frustrated by needing to be gentle.
But one of Wesley's hands came up to clasp the back of Angel's neck, holding him in place as he kissed him back with just as much force. Enough force that Wesley's lip got cut and Angel could taste his blood as it mingled into their kiss.
That was enough to make him care a little bit less about control. He grabbed up the hand cream and, one-handed, managed to squeeze some onto his fingers. Most of it went onto the desk, but Angel didn't care. Pulling back far enough to get his hand between them, he teased at Wes' entrance with a slick finger, kissing him all the while.
A low moan rumbled up from deep in Wesley's chest, but all he did was kiss Angel even harder.
"Can't wait to get inside you," Angel muttered, his finger pushing inside slowly, the last of his patience saved for this, so as not to hurt Wes.
He could feel Wes reacting, tiny shivers going up his spine. Wes finally pulled away from the kiss with a gasp. "More," he demanded, his eyes dark with want.
Angel growled and licked at Wes' gashed lip, tasting the salt and heat of his blood. He slid his finger deeper, rubbing against the small swollen spot inside Wes that made Wes gasp and jerk, then pulled out and added another finger.
"More," Wes said again, his hands sliding over Angel's chest in a light almost ticklish touch that was exact the opposite of their almost brutal kiss of seconds before.
Without hesitation, Angel slid his fingers out and lined up his cock, shoving inside Wes' tight, hot body and immediately starting to fuck him, letting their bodies find the right rhythm.
Wes had let out a sound halfway between Angel's name and a wordless moan when Angel first pushed into him, his whole body arching in reaction. He moved as much as he could with Angel as they instinctively sought their rhythm, words like "yes" and "good" and "harder" hidden in gasping breaths.
Angel growled and obliged, thrusting even more fiercely. The desk shifted and slid a couple of inches across the floor, and Wesley grabbed onto the edge of it with one hand while his other clutched at Angel's ass, urging him on.
Through it all, Wes' eyes were open and never left Angel's face.
"Good," Angel said, watching Wesley's face just as intently as they moved together. "Good. God, you're good."
That pulled a surprised laugh out of Wesley, the sound all husky and breathless. "Not so bad... yourself," he replied, the laughter seeming to continue to bubble up.
There was something slightly unbalanced about this, Angel knew, but he wasn't sure he cared. Wes wanted him, was moaning and meeting every thrust, and Angel could feel Wes' cock, hard again, between them. "Didn't know it was... Wes, God..."
"I'd imagined but..." Wesley broke off with another short laugh that turned into a moan. "God, whatever you do, don't stop."
"Don't want to," Angel agreed, although he did slow down a little bit because he wanted to draw this out as long as possible. "Want to... do this all night."
"Luckily... I've cleared my... schedule."
Angel pushed forward again, feeling Wes' body clench around him. "Good." He wanted to say more, but he also wanted to kiss Wesley again, so he decided to go with that instead.
Seemed like a good decision because Wesley kissed him hungrily, like he wouldn't be happy until he devoured him whole.
Reaching down between them, Angel closed his hand around Wes' cock and held it, not really stroking it, just feeling its warmth and liking the way his touch drew a little breathless gasp from Wesley. He could still taste a hint of blood in Wes' mouth, and that made him move faster.
He could feel every bit of Wesley's reactions, the way his heartbeat was racing, the way his muscles clenched around Angel's cock as he held onto him with a growing desperation. Angel's hips snapped forward and the desk slid another couple of inches, wood scraping across tile. He tightened his hand around Wes' cock, trying to simulate what he was feeling, himself, and groaned when Wes did.
They moved together, the pleasure seeming to build between them, Angel's attention narrowing until Wesley was the only thing he saw, heard, felt. Wesley was his world.
There were words he wanted to say, in that moment, but he wasn't ready. It was a convenient excuse that they were both too wrapped up in the physical to need words those words. "I'm not... going to be able to do this as long as I want to," Angel gasped, his free hand splayed across Wes' lower back.
Wes gasped out another laugh. "You're not... the only one."
Angel withdrew and thrust forward again, the motion of their bodies giving Wes a fair amount of stimulation without any real effort. "Come on," he urged. "Want to... feel you."
His entire body tensing under Angel's attention, Wesley groaned, his hands closing on Angel's shoulders in a viselike grip. "Angel..." he gasped and Angel could tell he was right on the edge.
"That's it," Angel coaxed, moving just a little more slowly and forcefully, each thrust deep, his grip on Wesley's cock firm. "Come for me, Wes."
Wes shook, with the effort of letting go or trying to hold on, Angel wasn't sure, but damn if it wasn't dead sexy. Then Wesley was coming, his pleasure pouring out of him in a wordless yell.
Angel jerked himself forward a few more times as Wes' hot release slicked his hand and Wes' tight body contracting around him made him groan. "God, Wes, so good..." He came, too, pressing his mouth to Wes' shoulder to stifle the sounds. For a long moment afterwards there was silence save for Wesley's breathing slowly returning to normal. Neither of them seemed eager to say anything, seeming content to just wallow in the afterglow.
Angel stroked his hand slowly along Wes' spine, up and down over the same six inches of skin, and kissed his shoulder softly. "You okay?"
Wesley nodded. "Fine. You?"
"Fine. More than fine." Angel gave a small sigh of pleasure.
Wesley chuckled. "Do you think this is what Doyle had in mind when he encouraged us to talk things out?"
"I think he was hoping we'd get here eventually," Angel said. "But somehow I don't think he thought it'd be this soon." He cupped Wes' face in his hand, brushing his thumb lightly over the split lip.
"It's been years in coming," Wes said, his mouth quirking up into a wry smile under Angel's touch.
"Yeah. Yeah, it has." Pulling back, Angel looked around. "You want to get dressed? Or we could go upstairs..."
"I.. Which would you prefer?"
"I'd prefer to know what you want to do," Angel said. He leaned in and kissed Wes slowly.
Wesley kissed him back, drawing it out even more. "I'd prefer... we still need to talk, although I think we're much more likely to be productive doing so."
"I'm not sure we could be less productive," Angel pointed out. "There's still a bed upstairs, you know." It might not be in the most pristine condition, but hey.
"I'm getting the impression that what you prefer is that we go upstairs."
"No," Angel said, trying to be patient. "If you want to get dressed and stay down here, that's fine with me. But you have to say. I'm a vampire, not a psychic."
"Yes, I have noticed that," Wesley said with a faint smile, reaching up and running a finger along Angel's lips, pausing where his fangs would lie if he was in game face. "I can talk in either place. I'm just trying to figure out which would be more... comfortable for you."
Angel frowned, confused. "Is that a euphemism for something I'm not getting?"
Wesley's smile widened. "Only in the way I mean emotional comfort. As physically I'm sure the bed would be the most comfortable."
"Let's do that, then," Angel said. "I want you to be comfortable."
Wesley looked like he was about to say something but then simply nodded his head. "All right."
Backing up, Angel looked around for Wes' clothes and retrieved them, handing them over. "Do you not want to go upstairs?" he asked, feeling like the conversation was going in circles.
"Going upstairs is fine," Wesley assured him, with just a hint of amused tolerance which had been often present in the past between them, but not so much lately.
"Okay," Angel agreed. They both got half-dressed, and, carrying the rest of their clothes, they started out into the lobby. "I thought this was supposed to make talking easier," he said.
Wesley considered. "It's made communication easier," he pointed out. "Even if that's not always talking."
"I like that kind of communicating better," Angel said. "The not-talking kind."
"A man of action," Wesley teased gently. "I had noticed."
They reached the top of the staircase. "Hey, you've got to cater to your strengths."
"One can carry the strong silent type too far," Wesley pointed out.
"It's not that I don't want to," Angel said. "I'm just no good at it."
"Judging by results, it's not exactly my strong suit either."
"Good. At least that means there's someone who understands." Angel pushed the door to his old suite open and went in. "If I'd thought we were going to be using it, I would have had someone in to clean," he said ruefully.
"You mean when you were on the run?" Wesley asked with a raised eyebrow, but no real heat.
"It was less running and more hiding," Angel said.
"And that makes it more like you'd be hiring hotel cleaners?" Wesley idly ran a hand along the counter in the kitchenette.
"No." Luckily, the bedspread had been pulled up over the bed, so Angel was able to strip it off, leaving an otherwise clean bed. "C'mere."
Wesley hesitated. "Are you sure? You and Doyle used to..."
"Come here." Angel said it gently.
This time Wesley obeyed, crossing the room to him.
Angel took the clothes that Wesley was holding, set them on the end of the bed with his own, and kissed him. "I have this theory," he said, "that maybe we'd talk better if I was holding you."
"An interesting theory." Wesley slid his arms around Angel's waist.
"We could give it a try," Angel said. "It could be argued that we have nothing to lose."
Wesley leaned against him. "I don't know about that. I think, in spite of everything, we both seemed to have retained and acquired quite a lot to lose."
"That wasn't what I meant." Angel stroked a hand down Wes' back. "But yeah, we have." Whenever he thought about it, he ended up feeling amazed.
"Now all we have to do is find a way to make it work."
"We will," Angel said, although he really had no idea how.
Wesley smiled. "Doyle's optimism rubbing off on you?"
"I hope so." Angel looked at Wes thoughtfully. "You want to lie down?" He suspected he sounded about as eager as he was.
"That would be the logical thing to do, considering we came up here to use the bed." Wesley was still smiling.
Angel found himself smiling, too. "Okay. Come on." He pulled down the sheets and held them out, gesturing for Wes to get into bed.
Wesley paused long enough to undress down to the skin again before getting into bed and giving Angel a look that was somewhere between come hither and a challenge.
That was the kind of challenge Angel was well up to -- he let his own slacks fall to the floor before getting into bed, pulling Wes into his arms without asking if it was okay.
Wesley sighed and relaxed against Angel's body. "I should by all rights still be angry with you," he said in a conversational tone.
"It's okay if you are," Angel told him, feeling his body reacting to having Wes so close.
"I'm not," Wesley said, fingers sliding lightly over Angel's skin. "I may be again later, but..."
"But what?" Angel asked softly, when Wes didn't finish.
"I don't want to be angry. Not anymore."
"Yeah. I know." Angel still tried not to think about Connor, and Wes taking him, and everything that had followed, but he wasn't sure it was because he was worried about being angry. More that he was worried about the despair, threatening to swallow him whole.
"Everything's so... complicated." Wesley shook his head. "Things used to be simple. Although, I suppose I thought they were complicated back then as well."
"It doesn't get a hell of a lot more complicated than this," Angel agreed. "Although this -- us -- proves that we're maybe one step closer to figuring it out."
"I suppose it does." Wesley was silent for a moment, still idly caressing Angel's skin. "This is certainly not what I imagined happening when you came back, you know."
Angel rubbed his jaw against Wesley's hair. "What did you think would happen?"
"Not this. I suppose the very best I'd imagined was some kind of uneasy truce between us for Doyle's sake and at his insistence."
"It might not stay like this," Angel said. "Seeing him with you... I don't think it's going to be easy. For you, either."
"Or for him," Wesley pointed out. "Now that we've..." He gestured down at them lying naked in bed. "I know this is what Doyle has been pushing for, but still..."
Angel hadn't thought of that. "You think he's underestimating how he's going to feel about the two of us together?"
"I think there's a high probability he is," Wesley said seriously.
"Great," Angel said, rubbing his hand over his face. "That's the last thing we need."
"You won't get an argument from me. That would be the problem inherent in a.. triangle such as this. Someone is always going to be the third wheel, almost by definition."
"So what do we do? Concentrate on him, when the three of us are together, so he doesn't have to think about it?"
Wesley tilted his head to the side as he considered. "I think it may be something we just have to deal with as it comes up. Each of us."
Angel gave a mock-groan. "That means more talking, doesn't it. Can't we just let Doyle do that part?" He was mostly joking.
"It doesn't necessarily mean talking. This may be the kind of situation where you should just play to your strengths." Wesley deliberately ran a hand down Angel's chest suggestively.
"You mean distract him?" Angel asked, pulling Wes closer with one hand on the back of his thigh.
"I think," Wesley began slowly, "that whichever one of us is feeling... third wheelish, the other two should reassure him he's not. In whichever way is most convincing."
"Any suggestions on what works to convince you?" Angel rolled over on top of Wes, pinning him to the mattress.
Wesley smiled faintly at him. "As I said, play to your strengths."
"You're not a third wheel here, Wesley," Angel said seriously, their noses almost touching. "This is... I want this. With you."
Wesley sighed and ran a hand through Angel's hair. "It's a good thing that Doyle's too good natured to get very smug when he's right about something because otherwise he'd be unbearable after this."
Moving his body against Wesley's, Angel nodded. "We should listen to him more often. Trust what he says."
"He is racking up a rather impressive track record of knowing what he's talking about," Wesley agreed.
"I'm glad he was right about this," Angel said, his voice soft. Wes' body felt incredible under his, like something he'd been missing without realizing it.
He watched as Wesley's eyes went soft and dark at that. "So am I," he replied, kissing Angel with all the emotion in him.
Wesley did his best to walk normally as he neared the apartment, just in case Doyle was watching out for him. His evening with Angel had been remarkable -- well beyond anything he'd expected -- but he had no idea how to explain it to Doyle, or what to anticipate Doyle's reaction might be.
The door opened just as he got to it; it seemed like Dennis at least had been watching.
Stepping inside, Wesley blinked at the light. "Doyle? I'm back."
Doyle was sitting on the couch, curled up with a book. "Hey," he said with a smile, as he got up and came over to kiss him.
"Hi," Wesley said, stroking the side of Doyle's face gently. "How are you?"
"I'm good." He gave Wesley a look. "The question is though how are you? The meeting with Angel go okay?"
"Yes, fine." Still undecided about how to approach the issue, Wesley pulled back and moved back to the door to take off his shoes.
"Is that a 'Yes, fine, no one ended up dusted' or a 'Yes, fine, Angel and I are friends again'?"
Wesley looked up at Doyle through the space between them. "Both."
Doyle was looking closely at him and frowning slightly. "Okay, spill. What is it you're not telling me?"
Swallowing and telling himself sternly to stop being such a coward, Wesley said, "Angel and I were... intimate."
Doyle stared at him, blinking slowly.
"It was the last thing I expected to have happen," Wesley explained. "It just did."
"Wow." Doyle shook his head. "I was thinking it was going to take you two at least another month of prodding to get to that point."
"You aren't upset?" It wasn't so much that Wesley had thought Doyle would be upset -- but there'd been part of him that had been concerned, certainly. He went to Doyle, putting both arms around him.
Doyle smiled. "You sound disappointed that I'm not."
"No, of course not. I didn't want you to be upset." Wesley sighed and held Doyle more tightly, relieved.
"I could pretend I am if you wanted," Doyle offered helpfully.
"Do you know what I'd really like?" Wesley asked.
"What?"
"To take a very long, very hot shower and then curl up in bed with you in my arms." Wesley was bone-tired physically and emotionally exhausted as well.
Doyle kissed him gently. "I think that can be arranged."
"Have you eaten?" Wesley asked.
"Yes, mum," Doyle said with a good natured roll of the eyes. He pulled away, but kept hold of Wesley's hands to pull him towards the bathroom.
"Sorry," Wesley said, contrite. "I may be more than a bit brain-addled at the moment."
"Yeah, Angel will do that to you." Once in the bathroom, Doyle started undressing him.
Wesley allowed him to do it, making only the slightest attempts to be helpful. "I really had no idea that was going to happen."
"Was it good?"
"God, yes," Wesley said, with a great deal more emphasis than he ought to have allowed.
Doyle chuckled. "A couple of centuries of experience does count for something doesn't it?"
"So it would seem." Finally managing to do more than stand there, Wesley stepped out of his trousers, wincing slightly as his body protested.
"A bit too much enthusiasm earlier?" Doyle asked sympathetically, running a hand lightly down Wesley's flank.
Wesley nodded, watching as Doyle started the shower for him. "It's been... rather a long time."
"I remember what that's like." Doyle made a face. "And I bet that sounds weird coming from this body."
Any other time, Wesley might have pursued that topic of conversation further. "No, it doesn't sound weird," he said reassuringly. "At least, not very. Considering."
"Yeah, weird is pretty much the norm any more." Doyle eyed him affectionately and with perhaps a bit of prurient interest. "Need someone to wash your back?"
"I don't suppose there's any chance I could convince you to make me some tea?" Wesley asked. He rubbed a hand over his face. "Sorry, that was absurdly transparent, wasn't it. I love you, but there isn't an inch of me that doesn't ache just now."
Doyle immediately became even more sympathetic. "Go soak your muscles, I'll make you some tea and then when you're done in here, give you a rubdown." He held up a hand. "No ulterior motives. Promise."
"Thank you," Wesley said gratefully. Doyle went off to the kitchen and he got into the shower. He stood under the hot water until it began to go tepid, not making any real effort to wash himself, just letting the spray rinse over him.
When he finally stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, he found Doyle had lit candles all around the bedroom and had turned down the bed. A mug of tea was sitting on the bedside table and Doyle himself was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for him.
"Thank you for being so understanding," Wesley said. He went over and sat down beside Doyle, tightening his jaw as the ache intensified.
"You've been taking care of me for months now." Doyle smiled. "About time I got a chance to repay the favor."
Now that he was clean and a bit more relaxed, Wesley didn't care about the tea anymore. "Lie down with me? Please."
"Sure," Doyle said softly, and a few minutes later found Wesley wrapped in warm blankets and a warmer lover.
Wesley felt as if he'd been away a good deal longer than he had, and he was at a loss for what to say, so he just held Doyle, comforting himself with Doyle's familiar scent and touch.
"It's all right," Doyle told him, with that equally familiar crooked grin. "Really. I promise."
"I know," Wesley said.
"Do you?" The look Doyle gave him was serious but still full of affection. "Because you're acting like you're still worried about it."
"Not worried so much as... unsettled," Wesley said. He knew that, by all appearances, things seemed to be working out very well, but that didn't change the fact that things were also extremely complicated.
"Ah." Doyle nodded knowingly. "Waiting for the other shoe to drop syndrome. I know it well."
"Tell me it's not going to drop," Wesley said, sliding down in the bed until he and Doyle were face to face. "Tell me it's all going to be all right."
Doyle laid a hand against Wesley's cheek. "I'm not planning on dropping it. And if it does drop regardless, we'll just pick it right back up again." He smiled. "It's going to be all right because we won't let it not be."
"I don't want to lose you," Wesley said. He searched Doyle's eyes, one hand moving down to rest on Doyle's abdomen. "Either of you."
"That's good because I don't want to be lost." Turning more serious, Doyle promised, "I'm not going anywhere."
If Wesley had been able to be aroused again, he'd have liked to have taken Doyle right then, to re-stake his claim, as it were. But Angel had worn him out too thoroughly for that. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
"For both you and Angel to be happy with me and with each other?" Doyle kissed him. "Pretty sure, yeah."
"I want that, too," Wesley said, pulling Doyle closer, fitting their bodies together.
"Good. Pretty sure it's what Angel wants too. Well the you and me being happy bit, we're still working on him wanting himself to be happy, but I think we're making progress."
"It's not easy for him," Wesley said, almost surprised to hear himself defending Angel.
"I know," Doyle said softly. "Good thing he has us to help him then, isn't it?"
"Yes." Wesley kissed Doyle affectionately. "But I'm just as lucky to have you as he is."
"I can't believe how lucky I am to have the two of you," Doyle replied. "I'd say I'd died and gone to heaven, but that might be a bit too close to the truth."
"You've died one too many times already," Wesley said. "I won't allow it to happen again." If sheer will had any power at all, he felt sure that Doyle would be safe.
Doyle kissed him again. "Like I said, I'm really lucky."
Wesley sighed and ran a hand through Doyle's hair, which had grown a bit since his original haircut. "You know I'd do anything for you?"
"Yeah, I got that message. You know it's mutual right?"
"I just need you. Nothing else." Of course, it wasn't that simple anymore.
Doyle smiled, a bit sadly, a bit knowingly. "It's going to take some time to get used to how things can be now. For all of us."
"How do we do this?" Wesley asked. "Should we be... should he be here? Now?" It seemed wrong somehow that Angel was alone, although to be honest Wesley didn't think he'd be all that comfortable with the three of them in the same bed just then either.
Doyle seemed to consider then shook his head. "Not yet, I don't think. Not tonight."
"No?" Wesley relaxed. "Not that I feel particularly inclined to share you."
"That's why." Doyle kissed him again, this time a bit longer, a bit more possessive. "One step at a time. And you and Angel already did about what I was figuring was five or six steps."
"It just happened," Wesley said, trying not to sound defensive. "I think he was as surprised as I was."
"That wasn't a criticism," Doyle was quick to assure him. "Just the opposite really; makes me believe this will really work and it's not just me being..."
"Being what?" Wesley asked gently.
"Unrealistic? Greedy? Wanting my cake and eating it too?" Doyle shrugged.
"There's nothing wrong with wanting both of us," Wesley said, hoping he sounded convincing. "You deserve to have everything you want."
"Only if it's what all three of us want. I don't want you or Angel sacrificing for me."
"Being with you is hardly a sacrifice," Wesley said.
Doyle kissed him. "I love you."
"I love you, too. Everything about you." Wesley yawned. "And I suspect I'm not likely to be awake much longer."
"Angel does have a talent of wearing a body out."
"Yes, he certainly does," Wesley said. "It's been a long time since... well."
"Shame that." Doyle's hands slid around to Wesley's back, kneading gently. "If you hadn't got together with Angel, I may have had to find something artificial to help you out with that."
"Really?" Wesley asked, curious despite his body's utter lack of response. Doyle's hands felt amazing, though. "God, that feels nice."
"Good." Doyle's voice was low and soothing. "It's supposed to." He paused and then answered, "Really and truly. I might still just to see what we can get up to."
"Mm." Wesley's eyes closed despite himself. "Do you miss it?" he asked.
"No, not really," Doyle replied, his voice still soft. "Which is weird because you'd think I would. I miss the idea of it maybe more than the actual reality."
"I still haven't given up on finding a way to reverse that part of this, you know," Wesley said. "Although clearly now it would have to wait until after the baby is born."
"Clearly. That would be one of the surprise benefits that came with this body."
"How does Angel feel about it?" Wesley asked.
"About me being in Cordy's body?"
"No, sorry," Wesley said. "I meant about the baby. Did you talk about it?"
"Yeah." Doyle smiled slightly. "He's still scared something's going to happen, but he's... good with it."
"He has every right to be concerned," Wesley said. "I would be, if I were in his shoes."
"I understand why he's feeling the way he is," Doyle said. "With all he's been through how could he not?"
"We'll have to our best to reassure him," Wesley said. "I will." There was so much history between them. Sometimes it seemed as if it would be impossible for them to get past it.
Doyle kissed him. "I'm glad to have the help."
"So am I," Wesley said, wondering why the words sounded so familiar.
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