Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon – I just like playing with them.

Notes: Set during season 1, before Hero but after I Will Remember You. Cordelia and Doyle have a lot on their plate just trying to deal with the aftermath of Buffy's visit and its effect on Angel. Unfortunately, the PTB aren't going to cut them any slack either - it's business as usual for Angel Investigations …

Business As Usual

Another day, another dollar …

"Fabulous, Doyle – remind me of the pittance Mr. Still-Pays-Seventeenth-Century-Wages bestows on us in return for your average twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, service of demon slaying, researching … and did I even mention the added ick factor?"

Had he said that aloud? He really should know by now that was a touchy subject at best and certainly not a sentiment to be voiced in public.

"An' a good mornin' to you an' all, Princess." he said easily, brushing aside the little rant from his co-worker and ambling across the office to drop into a chair across from her, swinging his legs up onto the corner of her desk. "Anyway, sufferin' for the greater good – think o' the karma …" he tried, a twinkle in his bright blue eyes – he knew it was a long shot …

Sure enough, a snort of disbelieving laughter met his suggestion and the attractive brunette glanced up from the weighty tome she had been staring blankly at just long enough to roll her eyes in theatrical disgust.

"Karma doesn't pay the rent, does it? Or does it buy decent clothes?" she demanded before breaking off to cast a critical eye over him, taking in the somewhat faded t-shirt he was wearing underneath a baggy dark green shirt and beat up brown leather jacket. "And why am I even asking you?"

"Yer a real ray o' sunshine this mornin', darlin'." he said, unfazed but slightly bemused by her attitude. "Any particular reason yer so full o' the joys?"

"What? It's bad enough we have to battle evil at the most ungodly of hours, but now you're expecting me to be cheerful about it too?" she snapped, instantly putting on a blatantly fake and over-the-top smile. "Happy now?" she demanded, even though the smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared as she went back to glowering at her book.

Doyle said nothing, but merely watched her for a second with a concerned frown. Like everyone else who had ever known her, he was used to Cordelia's little outbursts – found them endearing even, but that was probably just him. Something told him this went deeper though – there was something definitely bothering her and he intended to find out what it was.

"Would you quit staring at me already – you look like a monkey with a Rubik's cube!"

"Alright, yer comin' wi' me …" Doyle informed her in his best not-taking-no-for-an-answer voice, swiping the book from under her nose and closing it with no regard for keeping her place. An action which drew a sharp intake of breath and that glare, the one that could kill at twenty paces. "Whoops …"

"Angel said he needed …"

"Angel's too busy mopin' in the batcave to need anythin' but a swift kick up the arse." Doyle grinned, "I'M in charge for now and I say we get the staff cheered up and then we worry about himself – is that a plan or what?"

"If this so-called plan involves getting wasted at …" She glanced at her watch, "… Ten thirty a.m. – you are so barking up the wrong tree …"

"Plan B it is then – get yer bag."

"As plans go … I've seen worse." Cordelia admitted, managing a little smile for the Irishman sprawled on the grass beside her, minus his jacket – a tribute to either the heat or the fact that she was now sitting on it to spare her denim skirt from grass stains, probably both.

"Hey, I figured just 'cos the boss sticks to the shadows, no reason we shouldn't indulge in a wee spot o' sunshine for a change." Doyle grinned, shading his eyes with one hand as he looked up at her.

"Yeah, 'cos if we were to follow our fearless leader's example, we'd probably be vitamin deficient and, no offence to Angel, but the pale and interesting look? So over. Plus, no way am I switching my mochachinos for "O"-neg!" she smiled, gesturing to her take-away coffee. "Nor do I intend to spend the greater part of the day moping about with a face like a wet weekend." She added as an afterthought, her smile fading. "Pathetic, much?"

"Ah, c'mon, cut the guy some slack, Cordy – ya know how things are wi' him and Buffy …"

"Do I ever! And so does he, so he should know better than keep torturing himself like this – what good is brooding gonna do, huh?" she demanded, though the question was obviously rhetorical as she didn't even pause for an answer. "You do see where this is going, don't you? If he doesn't snap out of it, you and me? Propping up the counter at the unemployment place! And I dunno about you, but 'has a freakish knowledge of the many ways to dispose of demon spawn' is so not gonna do my resumé any favours."

"Err, d'ya wanna maybe dial it down a notch?" Doyle said, sparing a thought for the other people around them for whom the undead were not such a common feature of everyday life and raising his eyebrows. "What's got ya so riled anyways? This'll all blow over in a few and then we don't gotta worry …

"Few what? Months? Years? Millennia? May I remind you who we're talking about here? Angel? He of the permanent angst? And when I say permanent, it's been ongoing since … oh, lets hazard a guess at centuries ago! Brooding is not something he takes lightly, he's got it down to an art form – it's a way of life … unlife … whatever."

"It ain't like he's doin' it for the hell o' it! If anyone's got cause, it's our boy, Angel …"

"I know he's had it rough, but …"

"No buts, princess – all we can do is give him time." Doyle said firmly.

"So you want to go into avoidance tactics? Ignore the problem and hope it sorts itself? That'll work! Buffy blows into town, puts Angel into a permanent funk as only she can and I'm just supposed to stand by and turn a blind eye while our business goes belly up?" Her little rant was followed by a frustrated sigh, her fingers which had been absently running over the grass now inadvertently uprooting handfuls.

With a sigh of his own, Doyle sat up and scooted a little closer to the irate brunette, hoping he wasn't just putting himself in front of the one-woman firing squad.

"Cor, darlin', there's some things we just can't help Angel wi', hard as it may be. It ain't turnin' a blind eye, it's givin' him space to work through it …"

"Work! He hasn't worked in days and don't say he's delegating – he's just finding ways to keep us busy so we'll let him waste his unlife! That 'important research' – and I use sarcastic air quotes – he had me doing this morning? Big waste of time – background info on an old case and so unnecessary it's not even funny." Cordelia groused. "He doesn't pay enough to have us doing crappy time wasting stuff!"

"So ya actually want business to be boomin'? I'd have thought you'd be jumpin' at the chance to jack this all in for somethin' a tad more glamorous …"

"Of course, my inevitable stardom will come …" Cordelia nodded, "It just … doesn't look like happening in the immediate future. And I have bills – if I have to work, I'd rather do it for a successful firm than … well, us."

"We'll get by, princess – we always do." Doyle said softly, patting her hand in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

"You really think so?" she asked and the Irishman was suddenly struck by just how young and vulnerable she looked – it was easy to forget when she was her usual bright and breezy self. "I mean, I know it's hard to believe this about a soon to be famous Hollywood actress, but …" she looked down to avoid his eyes and played distractedly with a leather bracelet around her wrist, "Well, I haven't exactly got a lot of friends in L.A. – and if Angel takes off, that's a fifty percent cut … It may not be the career move I'd intended, but I need this and we haven't had a paying client in ages and you haven't exactly been forthcoming with the visions …"

"You wishin' mind-numbin' pain on me now?"

"Think of the karma, you said." she pointed out with a wry smile.

"Touché." he grinned back before bumping her shoulder companionably with his, "We will be alright though, darlin' – you and me, we'll stick together … And Angel will come round. Eventually. Sorry I can't do much on the vision front though – in case ya hadn't noticed, I ain't exactly in control o' … oh, shite …"

Cordelia gasped in alarm as his eyes first widened in shock and then scrunched closed in pain as he collapsed on the grass, holding his head and trying not to cry out and draw any more attention than he already had.

"Bee sting." Cordelia loudly informed anyone who glanced their way with a nervous, strained laugh. "Honestly, men! They make a fuss over the least little thing …"

Having to settle for helplessly hovering over Doyle, her hand gripping his shoulder, Cordelia tried her best to comfort him until the worst of his ordeal was over and his body finally relaxed on the grass.

"Oh, Jesus …" he groaned miserably, one arm thrown over his eyes. "I swear to God, there's gotta be a union we can join – and if there ain't, we'll start one!"

"You're preaching to the choir!" Cordy declared, "Are you okay?"

"If by okay you mean in agony, I'm comin' up roses, darlin'." he sighed, "Don't suppose ya got any painkillers on ya? Or maybe morphine?"

"Aspirin?" she offered, digging in her bag and waiting until he had taken four and downed them with the lukewarm dredges of his coffee before asking the all important question, "So, more trouble ahead?"

"Aye, looks like it's business as usual …" he nodded wearily, "Lets go."