"Los Angeles is not supposed to be cold!" Xander stated with a glare that insinuated it was someone's fault and that someone should fix it now.

"Come on. You're just upset because of the rain."

"And that's another thing," Xander began with the babbling and ranting in one fell swoop. "I mean, I don't think rain when I think of Los Angeles. Cement, night clubs, celebrity rehab centers, bad sets at the Comedy Club, the Hyperion. The list just goes on and on and unless someone is messing with my list, they'd better put it back in the right order."

"Don't you think we're being a bit over dramatic there, Xander?" The incredibly sexy lilt of his Irish voice appeared with ease and out of nowhere trying to calm Xander down. In their line of work, irrationality and anger could lead to bad things. He didn't like thinking about bad things if he could help it. Being out of a pint of Guinness on a hard-earned Friday ranked quite far in that category.

Xander looked around the hallway. "If you would find your keys, perhaps I wouldn't be so crabby."

The man patted his jacket, finding them against the lower tan pocket. "Ah. Now don't worry. We'll have you back to your Scooby marathon and chocolate level of sedate in no time."

"I think you're confusing me with someone who isn't tight-wound."

"Possibly. But you're in the company of a true Irishman now and..."

Xander glanced at the apartment, which reminded him quite a bit of that basement he had had a few years back. "...the Irish don't clean?"

Doyle got slightly defensive. "Well, I could just be leavin' you out here to dry off in the hallway now, couldn't I? It's clean enough for my needs and if Cordelia..."

That was all Xander needed to hear and so he moved across the threshold. Doyle filled the space behind Xander to lock the deadbolt and let Xander take in the place. They were silent for a moment before Xander looked down at his feet, water dripping from the bottom of his jeans.

"Umm...Doyle...is there a place to?"

Doyle nodded. "I suppose it's not much of a grand tour, but there's enough to consider in the event of a rained-out weekend."

Xander nodded. "Cordy's gonna owe me big for this."

Doyle moved a sweater from the couch toward a pile of odds and ends, covering it in an almost cheerful fashion. "Would you care for a seat first? All that running must have..."

Xander waved the thought off. "Trust me. If there is one thing the Zeppo does well, that is running. Running and eating the last jelly doughnut without remorse. So two things maybe."

"You're a man of varied interests."

"And don't you forget it, buster. Is the shower through there?"

Doyle nodded to the only other room in the place that Xander had pointed to and watched him go into the other room, a soft thud of the door closing in accompaniment. Doyle wondered how Xander was still so modest after years living with a Slayer, several master vampires, witches, werewolves, and an apparent assortment of oddities. Modesty like that was almost antiquated to Doyle, but somehow endearing in Xander's case. Endearing enough that Doyle didn't mind if he ran up the hot water bill. After all, Angel had said to take care of the boy personally.

The thought of Angel growling Xander's name with that sort of defensive respect was enough to make Doyle take notice. At first glance, Xander was the all-American Californian teenager. But first glances, as Doyle knew quite well, could be more deceiving. Like how Angel didn't notice the way Doyle stared. It was enough to make a man go insane. Doyle had to shake himself, reminding the little Irish Doyle between his legs that company was present. True, he was slightly as damp as Xander, but he enjoyed the feeling of rain through his hair. The only movement he made while Xander was showering and changing from the rain and the demon goo was to go and grab one of the last lonely beers from his fridge.

"You half demons are so weird." Xander was still shaking his hair out with a towel when he came out, leaning against the kitchen table for support.

"Mine explaining how?"

"How I knew you were half demon or how I know you're odd?"

"Take your pick." Doyle folded his arms and nodded.

"The cleanest thing in your apartment is your bathroom. I mean, I could eat pizza off the floor."

"Is that so odd now? I should be lucky to feel that odd." Doyle got up and walked past Xander, raiding the fridge for a beer for the American lad. "But I'd imagine you'll feel more grateful when you wake up needing to puke your guts out."

Xander took a swig of the beer than wagged his finger at Doyle. "Hey! You think I can't hold my booze? I'll have you know that I'm quite well aware of my limit."

"This is America. You're all bloody unawares here."

"Hey! American in the room!"

Doyle shrugged as he leaned against the couch. "Well, at least you clean up nice."

Xander examined himself, moving around in a slow circle. "You think so? I borrowed your shirt, its a bit tight but I'll be careful."

Doyle gulped. He couldn't help but notice what his pants did for the man too. "That's quite alright. Angel wanted to make sure you were taken care of."

Xander raised his eyebrow. "What did he mean by that?"

Doyle coughed. "See the sights, I suppose."

Xander shook his head. "No thanks. I've seen enough of Los Angeles to last me a lifetime. I'd rather just stay in."

"One of the channel has my story on right now. It's not exactly as glamorous as demon fighting..."

Xander pointed toward the television. "I like not so glamorous. I've lived glamorous. It's all yours if you want it. As long as the powers don't interfere."

"I think even the powers like to watch Passions."

Xander had a thought about Spike, but the thought never left its little germinating seed in his brain. He just stood there as Doyle fiddled about. Xander began to notice the man's lower half in the tight brown pants and he had a fleeting thought about how oblivious Angel probably was to Allen Francis Doyle. That might almost be okay with Xander junior, he thought.

Doyle leaned back on the couch once he had the station settled, leaning back further to look at Xander and pat the couch at the same time. "I don't bite much."

Xander pointed toward the ceiling as though he were making a point. "I don't know that. I haven't researched your demon half origin. Further, if you knew the kind of people I dated then you would know biting is the least of my troubles."

"Is this what you think this was? A date?" Doyle was amused. He wasn't sure if he was imagining that Xander said people and not just girls. Although he did know that Cordelia and Xander had dated, so it was obvious that man didn't lack experience in the love department. Perhaps he just lacked the same luck that Doyle frequently missed.

"It wouldn't rank in the bottom ten if it was. I was pretty sure though that you weren't babysitting me. You weren't...right Allen?"

"Doyle if you please. And shhh...Ethan's on!"

Xander squinted. "They switched characters again. That guy doesn't even look like Ethan anymore. They couldn't have at least casted someone with the same hair color."

Doyle nodded from the couch. "It does make it a wee bit harder to ...."

Doyle seemed to freeze mid-sentence and that freaked Xander out a bit. "Doyle, man? Don't start that weird shit. I get enough of that at home."

"Do you smell that?"

Xander stared into the kitchen, seeing if he could see anything burning on the stove that Doyle had forgotten about. "What am I smelling for?"

Doyle got up and began lifting things around the living room. "I don't rightly know."

Xander shrugged as he walked into the kitchen. "Is it a good or bad smell?"

Doyle stuttered. "Good...very good."

The door to the oven slammed shut. Xander turned to see Doyle staring at him, a sheen of lust clear over his eyes. Xander raised his arms around the empty space in the kitchen. "I got nothing."

"You don't know how wrong you are." Doyle's face was shifting, his human side fighting for control. Xander felt Doyle grab him and begin to...well...sniff his neck.

"Doyle...Doyle...what's wrong with you?!" Xander pushed the half Irishman away and Doyle came back to his senses.

Doyle gulped. "I'm gonna go sit down now."

Xander, clearly puzzled, did not follow. "You should go do that. I'm gonna be over here, making some popcorn and not wigging out from you sniffing me."

Xander watched his reflection in the glow of the microwave. His intense glare on the popping sounds from the bag betrayed the inner workings of his brain, running faster than the fuel of a jet engine. Doyle had just...attacked him...mauled him...spooned him? Xander Junior didn't seem to be ignoring the standing invitation either.

Xander sighed, sifting his fingers through his now-dried hair as the microwave dinged. How complicated does life have to be? He portioned the popcorn into a very large bowl and then positioned himself far enough away on the couch from Doyle as to not be rude, but as to put space between them in case Doyle became affectionate again.

Their hands brushed on more than one occasion. "Sorry."

"No big. By the rules of engagement, first hands get dibs on kernels." Xander flashed him an easy smile, allowing whatever transgressions had occurred to pass.

"No, I mean about the thing in the kitchen. I don't...I mean...I'm not..." Doyle was searching for the right words, searching for something of acceptance in Xander's face.

Xander put up a hand, stopping Doyle mid-apology. "It's okay. I can handle the weird. I lived on the Hellmouth since birth and then I fought alongside a Slayer. Having a ...half demon grope me in the kitchen is not that high on a big deal o meter." Xander made sure he edited the word wicked cute from the phrase when he thought it through in his head.

Doyle groaned. "That explains it! Just don't tell Angel what happened because he might kill me."

Xander nodded. "The things that Dead boy doesn't know can't hurt him. Also, care to give clueless man a vowel here on the explanation?"

Doyle nodded, reaching for another bite of popcorn. "Well, you have the scent of the Hellmouth on you. Mixed with what nature gave you, it's damn intoxicating. My demon half is basically trying to tear out through my skin to get to you."

Xander shot up. "I should probably go if that's the case."

Doyle grabbed for his arm. "No. I can control myself."

Xander gave Doyle a dubious stare before sitting back down. He muttered to himself. "Well now I know why I'm such a demon magnet no matter where I go."

"Must be difficult."

Xander shrugged. "Makes me wonder why Angel never noticed it before."

Doyle scoffed. "Angel wouldn't notice. Or he'd just try not to. Don't get me wrong, he's a great guy. Just kind of dense sometimes."

Xander nodded in agreement. "Dense and tense. That's a lethal combination."

"Man needs to learn how to relax in life." Doyle looked at Xander and Xander found himself being looked at like a piece of meat. Funny thing is that he didn't mind. No one since Anya had looked at him like that.

"Relaxation is good. In has case, though, it would be an unlife."

"I mean," Doyle leaned over to grab a piece of popcorn and leaned into Xander's personal bubble just a bit, "eventually, you don't let it go just a little and you can just at the wrong time."

Xander noticed Doyle's hand wasn't moving out of the bowl and that his hand, the traitor, had moved closer and closer toward the bowl until their fingertips were touching. "Yeah, and I'd hate to explode at some time when it wasn't right."

The bowl of popcorn got flipped onto the rug and Doyle's eyes went wide. Xander had taken his arms and put them above his head. Little Doyle was going crazy having someone else's crotch rubbing up against his own. Doyle himself was having trouble controlling his demon half again. It was that damn scent...not to mention the fact that Xander wasn't even close to half bad to look at.

"Now, I haven't done this with a guy in a very long while," Xander said while rubbing his bulge against Doyle's crotch, causing Doyle to hear about a third of the words he said, "not since the werewolf, but I'm betting that I haven't forgotten much. The one thing about bedding a werewolf that you learn is..."

Doyle's hand slithered away from Xander's grip when he relaxed it to talk. "Just let me..."

Xander pushed the arm back and put a bit more pressure on the wrist. "Hey! Don't interrupt me or I'll keep you like this all night. And don't think I won't do it. You can ask an ex-vengeance demon about that if you'd like."

"But I'm..."

Xander laid down firmly against Doyle. "Horny? Hard? Oh, I can sense it and man it feels dirty and beautiful. But all good things come to those who wait, Doyle."

There was a crescendo of thunder from the oncoming storm and Doyle turned his head towards the door. "What's that?"

Xander was distracted enough that Doyle could slip one leg out and place a slight kick against one of Xander's knees. He wriggled away enough and heading for the bedroom in a state of arousal and somewhat panic. Doyle wanted to make sure he was stripped and prepared for this, because apparently Xander was willing to go a lot farther than he thought. The boy was just full of surprises.

"That was just a dirty trick, leprechaun." Xander admired the lines of Doyle's back while his shirt was raised above his head. Doyle had stopped just short of bringing it up completely over his head.

Doyle flung the shirt to the floor after a moment and licked his lips, not bothering to turn and face Xander. "You have to give me a fighting chance, mate."

Xander smirked, moving behind Doyle and tracing the lines of his body with one arm while using the other arm to clasp his hands, once again, above his head. "Says who?"

"I'm a half demon, remember?"

Xander chuckled. "Trying to make me more excited?" Doyle found that he was having more trouble breathing and staying in his human skin than he could remember in quite a long time. "Or maybe you're beating me to the land of excited. I guess I should let you finish whatever it is you were doing."

Doyle felt himself being pushed onto the bed, falling face first. When Xander made no advances, Doyle began throwing clothes into the dark space that was his room. He could see portions of Xander from the light spilling from outside the door and Xander seemed very interested in what was under the rest of Doyle's clothing.

Finding himself naked in his own bed while Xander looked on, Doyle began to stroke his enraged hard-on. It was just begging for contact, since the last time anyone had looked at Doyle in a such a way was through the computer screen. Xander still wasn't so much as touching his own bulge, but the eyes said enough to Doyle. You could always tell by the eyes.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot. Natural Irish."

"What?" Doyle looked down, realizing that Xander was fixated on the way his foreskin rolled over his hard head. "Prepare to be delighted then."

Xander nearly purred. "I already am."

"Then what are you doing standing over there? Bed's not just made for one person."

Doyle got his first look at Xander's own eight inch hard-on and grinned a little. He knew that Xander Harris wasn't that in control right now either. But what happened when Xander's own tongue began to scale down Doyle's body as he flitted between demon and human made him exhale deeply and close his eyes, lost in the bliss.

Xander loved the taste of Doyle's skin, both of them. The human skin was soft and blemish free, except for one mole right under one of the nipples. His demon skin seemed plated somehow and the horns not on his face seemed to braid right back into his skin or stop without a point.

Doyle's cock was dealing with hard changes to. Xander didn't have to move his mouth much and he wondered how much longer Doyle was going to fight the obvious sexual tension he was feeling with his demon half. Xander was a bit too busy to talk though. He just assumed that Doyle would figure it out as he took about six inches into his mouth without gagging.

Doyle remained human during the course of Xander's blowjob. His fingers intertwined in Xander's hair, guiding the man roughly on how to suck his cock. Not that Doyle felt Xander needed much help in that area, he just wasn't sure if he could admit how dwarfed he felt by Xander's personality. Especially after the way he looked in Doyle's maple leaf shirt.

Xander's tongue was enjoying the mingle of skin and pre-cum as he began to tease and play with the foreskin, flicking it through his fingers as his nose and mouth were busy with Doyle's straining balls. Xander knew how to edge him back and forth and Doyle himself was having trouble remembering which room of the apartment he was in. Xander knew enough to follow the warble of the groans and find the sweet spot.

Then Doyle felt that Xander had stopped the attention upon his dick and was now slowly stroking himself while watching Doyle recover. "Ummm...."

Xander's instructions were simple. "Flip."

"Excuse me?"

Xander quirked his eyebrow. "Listen, mister, I'm not a total bottom boy and I don't want to have to do everything the hard way. Actually I do, but I thought that maybe it would be easier if you...cooperated for this."

Doyle gulped. "I've never..."

Xander sighed. "You don't trust me?"

"Bloody hell, How could I say no to those chocolate eyes?"

Doyle found himself on his stomach with Xander hovering over him. He forgot everything except for how to breathe that mysterious mix of Xander and the hellmouth that made his insides do gymnastics tricks. Having Xander naked across his own unclothed body made him harder than before, if possible. Xander's cock was hovering over his exposed hole, teasing Doyle with contact.

"Tell me what you want." Xander commanded.

"You....Just, be careful. I've got..."

"Won't need it." Xander used his own saliva to lube Doyle's ass in preparation for penetration.

Doyle found himself groaning again as Xander's fingers seemed to know exactly where to find that sweet spot against his prostate, first with one finger and then with a second. "Not bad for not knowing your physiology, I would say."

Doyle's voice cracked from amongst the tangled bedding. "Not bad at all."

Xander mounted Doyle and there was a brief moment of wincing pain while Doyle got comfortable with the cock riding inside of him. But Xander was patient and worked his thrusts slowly in a haunting rhythm that left Doyle pratically begging Xander to move faster so he could feel it all the more. Xander was more than happy to oblige.

They moved in a frenzy that left Xander unable to stay on top of Doyle. They began again with both on their side, Xander's hand reinforcing their bond while splayed over Doyle's chest. He loved the feeling of the plated skin against his soft skin and four pack. He growled again into Doyle's ears. "Just let it go."

Doyle moaned as he stopped resisting the urge to change. Xander nestled deep inside him, kneading his neck with his own teeth as Xander continued pumping in and out of Doyle as though they were fused together. At some point the moans became gibberish.

"Want me inside of you?" Xander was hard from the almost scratching of Doyle's demon skin. It was rough, but not like sandpaper. It was almost oddly sensual.

"Whatever you want." Doyle breathed, although he couldn't later recall if he had in fact said anything.

Xander sent Doyle over the edge one too many times and the final time he wasn't able to recover. He switched back into his human skin just a moment before he began to cum, Xander's hand moving from Doyle's chest to cock, the heat of the cum causing Xander to pump against Doyle's prostate with his own cock until it shot a load with a large groan into Doyle's ass. It took a few minutes before either could really move.

Once they were both laying against their backs, heads next to each other on the same pillow, Xander turned to Doyle. "Is this what Angel meant by seeing the sights of Los Angeles?"

Doyle grinned before cupping Xander's chin and kissing him. "God, I hope so."