A/N - Just a little warning that the chapter after this one won't go up until later next week, because I'll be away for a few days. But never fear, I'm leaving you in a pretty good place with this chapter. No cliffhangers or anything. ;)
The chapter after this one is the halfway point, so things will start to pick up a lot more from there. Thanks for reading, everyone!
*** CHAPTER 11 ***
Doyle awakens with a jolt, not immediately aware of what had caused him to be yanked from his slumber. He looks over at the other end of the couch where a sleepy eyed Cordelia is smiling at him. "Good morning."
It was the pain that woke him, of course—all of it had rushed back as soon as she let go. He reaches over to grab her leg and exhales as the relief floods back into his body. If he'd had any lingering doubt as to the cause of his painless night, it was certainly gone now.
She is still smiling at him, although now looking slightly curious. He returns the smile, widening it to the point where his dimple shows. "'Mornin', beautiful."
"How's your head?" She asks, almost shyly. Brushing a stray hair out of her eyes.
"Better than ever." He answers honestly.
She rakes her eyes over him, noting the placement of his hand on her thigh. Returning her gaze to his eye level she replies questioningly, "You do seem… surprisingly chipper."
"I haven't slept that well since I was dead." He says plainly.
She wrinkles her brow, rubbing her shoulder. "Really? Because I have an awful neck cramp from this couch."
That makes him chuckle. "The couch really isn't as comfortable as it looks." He lifts his hand from her leg to her shoulder, massaging gently. "Why don't you let me work this knot out for ya. Least I can do for keeping you from more luxurious sleeping accommodations."
She twists around giving him full access to her back and shoulders. As he massages her tight muscles, he enjoys the feel of her smooth skin and the long, nape of her neck. And, of course, as long as he touches her, he is blissfully pain free. It's a win/win for both of them, as far as he's concerned.
"That feels so good." She groans. He can feel her muscles soften as he works on the tight spots. "If I knew you were this good of a masseuse I would have brought you back from the dead ages ago."
He laughs at that, kneading her flesh with his thumbs. "It feels good to be in this apartment."
"Oh yeah?" She asks, sounding pleased by that statement.
"Yeah. Feels good to be somewhere familiar." He explains. "Don't get me wrong, the hotel is great and all, but it just adds to the sense that I don't quite belong anymore."
She turns back around, forcing him to halt the massage. He lets his hand fall back against her leg, but tries to keep it more subtle this time. "Doyle, you do belong. You belong as much as anyone else belongs there."
"And no one there's done anything to make me feel otherwise. I just meant, I have memories of this apartment. It makes me feel real. Like I'm… " He shrugs, not knowing how else to describe the feeling. "Home."
A smile spreads across her face and reaches full wattage in no time, "You are home."
"I get that now." He replies, giving her a warm smile.
She rests her hand over his as she leans closer, eyes filled with sincerity, "When you're out there fighting the good fight, don't ever forget how much we need you, okay? You're not expendable to us. Angel needs you. And I need you."
He stares into those soulful eyes of hers, not at all sure how he managed to keep his distance the last few weeks, "I need you, too, Cordy. More than I realized." He reaches out and strokes her cheek and the expression on her face changes. They both feel it. The electricity…
The phone rings.
Cordelia blinks as she comes back to earth and gets up to answer the phone. Doyle accepts the flood of pain back into his body, deciding it's not nearly as bad now that he can get some escape from it.
"Hello?" Cordelia says into the receiver. "No, we just slept late, that's all. I didn't set the alarm." She turns back toward Doyle and mouths. "It's Angel."
"Yeah, he's fine. Better than ever, actually." She gives Doyle a knowing smile as she gives Angel the status update. She listens for another moment. "Listen, we'll be there in a little while and you can see for yourself how great he's doing." Again she stops to listen and finally says, "Okay. See you soon."
She hangs up the receiver and shakes her head. "He worries too much."
As Angel descends the staircase into the Hyperion lobby, he sees that Cordelia and Doyle have finally rolled in. They are both leaning against the front counter with their backs turned to him, talking to Fred and Gunn who hover on the opposite side. Angel's eyes immediately land on the most unusual aspect of the scene before him-Doyle's hand resting casually on the small of Cordelia's back.
Angel stops walking for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around what that can possibly mean. The obvious answer is that Doyle has been cured. The less obvious answer is how. And the least obvious answer of all is what this means for Doyle's relationship with Cordelia. Although, Angel has a pretty good guess as to that last one, based on what he can see right in front of him.
He forces himself to complete his descent down the stairs and directs himself toward the coffee maker, first and foremost. As he casually pours himself a cup, he greets the new arrivals with a silent nod, so as not to interrupt the flow of their currently-in-progress conversation.
"But what about the flexibility?" Fred is asking. "I'd think the super-bendable thing alone would be worth it. No more breaking bones; you just pop them right back in to place and move along to the next fight."
"It's what Gumby would do." Cordelia adds with a smirk.
"Gumby?!" Doyle groans. "Is that a joke about my demon complexion? 'Cause that's not really helping your case, love. And, for the record, it's not my bones that are bendable, just my joints."
"Green is a lovely color." Fred insists. "Look how beautifully Lorne pulls it off!"
Angel turns toward the four of them, raising an eyebrow at Doyle.
Doyle, while looking slightly amused, also looks rather flummoxed, "Angel, man, perfect timing. Would you come to my defense here?"
"Depends what I'm defending." Angel replies, leaning back against the wall and sipping from his coffee mug.
Gunn gives Angel a sideways glance, "I think you're barking up the wrong tree, Doyle. No way would Angel ever withhold his vamp face in a fight... not unless he was feeling sensitive about it." Gunn snickers at his own joke while Angel rolls his eyes, silently cursing Doyle for bringing up old embarrassments.
"The ladies are trying to convince me that I should be using my demon side during fights." Doyle explains. "And I've been trying to tell 'em that it's just not the way I like to do things."
"You are barking up the wrong tree." Angel replies evenly.
"Toldja." Gunn says.
"Well, at least you understand me, man." Doyle says giving a thankful nod in Gunn's direction.
"I do." Gunn agrees. "I mean, sure, you could probably kick a lot more demon ass if you were stronger, faster and bendier—"
"Don't forget that leaping thing he can do." Cordelia interjects. "Like a big, spikey cat."
Doyle gives her pained expression, not loving the cat comparison. He turns back to Gunn. "You were sayin?"
"It's your call to make." Gunn finishes his thought. "They're your superpowers to use or not use. But... I can't argue that the spikes would come in handy in certain situations."
"And rather unfortunate in other ones, wouldn't ya say, darlin?" Doyle jests, causing raucous laughter from Gunn and a swat on the arm from Cordelia. Fred merely blushes.
As he watches Cordelia and Doyle grin at each other, he feels like he's been transported back in time. He could be back in the original Angel Investigations office watching them bicker and flirt shamelessly. For the first time since Doyle's been back, things seem to have fallen into their right place... and yet, it's also bittersweet, under the circumstances. And, Angel being who he is, can't ignore the dancing pink elephant in the room. He needs to know the how of it all.
"Um... Doyle?" Angel interrupts, already feeling bad about breaking up the party. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Doyle's eyes say no, but he responds in kind, "Yeah, o'course."
Angel motions toward the opposite end of the lobby, moving away from the others. He catches Doyle's subtle grimace as he steps away from Cordelia, which makes him wonder if Doyle's as cured as he appears. He also notices Cordelia's longing glance as Doyle moves away from her. As if he didn't already feel bad for interrupting, these two have to make it seem like he's physically tearing them apart.
Once he and Doyle are out of earshot, Angel gives Doyle a questioning look, "It, um… looks like you found a cure for your problem."
A wide grin breaks out across Doyle's face, "You noticed that, yeah?"
"Hard not to." Angel replies, revealing very little about his inner monologue.
"Y'know I was ready to give ya an earful about leavin' me at her place last night, but really I should be thanking ya." Doyle continues, still with the big, stupid grin. "It's Cordelia. Touching her is my cure."
Angel definitely does not like the sound of this, even if it wasn't for that nagging little jealous voice in the back of his mind. He has a lot of questions, and yet doesn't really want to know the answers to any of them. Doyle continues without noticing Angel's reservations, "It's not a permanent cure. Basically only works when I'm actually touching her. But, at least it's something, yeah?"
"It's something." Angel agrees.
"There's finally some hope, man. More than that, I mean, it's not like I needed an excuse to wanna touch Cordy." Doyle points out, throwing an admiring glance in her direction. "Since last night, I've been walkin' on air..."
Angel waves his hand to stop Doyle from continuing, "I don't need to hear the details, thanks." He sips from the coffee mug he still holds and averts his eyes to the ceiling.
"No, it's not like that. Not yet, anyway." Doyle insists. "I'm a gentleman. And I haven't even asked her on a proper date yet."
Angel wishes he didn't feel relieved by that confession. "I'm glad you're feeling better, but—"
Doyle cuts him off, "I know what you're gonna say, and don't worry. I still plan on finding a more permanent solution. I know I can't spend the rest of my life glued to her side… much as I don't mind the sounda that."
Angel sighs. That's all fine and good, but isn't his main concern at the moment. "Don't you think it's strange? That Cordelia would be your cure?"
Doyle nods in agreement, "I thought about that. But it makes perfect sense."
"It does?" Angel asks skeptically.
"The Powers That Be sent me to her as a gift, yeah? Maybe they decided to throw in a little fail-safe while they were at it. Make sure the gift wouldn't stray too far from the receiver of said gift. As if that woulda been a problem." Doyle shrugs. "They've always had a flair for the dramatic."
Angel furrows his brow. Doyle's theory sounds far-fetched, but there could be something to it. "So… you think the Powers That Be pimped you out to Cordelia?"
Doyle retracts, "Geez, when you say it like that it sounds dirty."
"I don't know, Doyle." Angel says, sneaking his own glance in Cordelia's direction. "This whole thing doesn't feel right to me."
Doyle sighs heavily, kicking at an invisible spot on the floor, "Yeah, well, nothing's felt right to me since I've been back. Nothing except her."
Angel instantly regrets bringing Doyle down. While he has every intention of researching the issue further, he wants his friends to be happy and it's clear they'll both be happy with the current turn of events.
"Just… let me know if anything changes. And in the meantime… you have to tell Cordelia. Now that it involves her directly, it can't be our little secret anymore." Angel insists.
Doyle considers that for a moment, giving Angel a conflicted look, "You're right, man. No more secrets." He grins at Angel thankfully and heads off to rejoin the others.
Angel watches as Doyle slides back over to Cordelia, slinging his arm around her shoulders. She leans into him without hesitation, as if she'd been waiting for his return.
And she had been. She was waiting for him all along.
Cordelia exits to the front courtyard of the Hyperion, casting a glance behind her at the man who had been attached to her side all day long. Even now, he holds her hand tightly as they wander into the moonlight. All she had wanted since he returned was for him to be close to her, and she had finally gotten her wish, albeit not exactly the way she had intended.
Naturally, she'd been devastated to learn of all his pain and suffering since he'd been back, and she was none too pleased that both he and Angel had kept this information from her. But, she quickly got over the minor betrayal and focused on the important part—he had never wanted to keep his distance from her. More so, she realized that he had opened his arms to her the previous night, expecting to be in extraordinary pain. He had done it to comfort her, with no regard for his own well-being. Substance—he still had it in spades.
Now he can't bear to let go of her. And she isn't complaining one bit.
Doyle pulls her toward him and embraces her, placing a soft kiss on her cheek, "Thank you for a wonderful day, Princess. I couldn't have gotten through it without ya."
She smiles up at him, "I'm glad you didn't have to." She shuffles her foot. "It doesn't have to end. I mean, I can stay…"
"Not until I've taken you out." He replies stubbornly. "Which I hope to do soon. Tomorrow night?"
"It's a date." She says beaming.
She watches something pass over his features, something he wants to say, but holds back. She squeezes the hand that she's still holding, "Think it, say it, remember?"
"You're gettin' confused." Doyle chuckles. "That's your way. Not mine."
"My way's the right way." She says, sticking her tongue out at him teasingly.
His eyes reflect the moonlight, like two green stars, "I was just gonna say…" He pauses and she can see so much in his eyes that the words almost seem unnecessary. It makes her stomach flip over as she waits to hear him put a voice to those emotions. "Being close to you has made me happy to be alive. Happier than I was the first time around." He affectionately pinches her chin. "Just thought you should know. G'night, love."
He starts to walk away, but she doesn't let go of his hand, instead yanking him back toward her with enough force to surprise him.
"Doyle… Do you really think you can say something like that and then walk away from me?" She steps into his personal space so that their bodies are almost flush against each other and she has to tilt her head up slightly to meet his eyes. She's actually kind of glad that he isn't that much taller than her, because his lips hover only a few inches away from hers. She barely has to stand on her tiptoes, and they're perfectly in reach.
"I didn't wanna be presumptuous." He mumbles, looking almost as innocent as he sounds… if not for the mischievous glint in his eye that tells her otherwise.
In response, she slides her hands around his neck so that they land in the soft hair at the base of his head. Her lips are slightly parted as she closes the small distance between them, kissing him softly on the mouth. She holds there and waits for him to kiss her back, which he does almost instantly. Softly, at first, matching her initial approach. And then building from there. They breathe each other in, enjoying the feel of each other's lips and tongues. Their kiss is like a dance and they are in a perfect rhythm.
He breaks the kiss first, and must see the desire clouding her eyes. She isn't letting go just yet. She wants more. The pressure of her hand on the back of his head keeps him within inches of her waiting lips.
"From now on, Doyle, be presumptuous. Be very, very presumptuous." She says breathlessly as she pulls his mouth back down to meet hers in another intoxicating kiss.
From an upstairs window, Angel sees his friends connecting. Finally.
He sighs. He is happy for them, of course, but their happiness only serves to highlight what he can never have. He can never have a moment of true happiness with the woman he loves. But at least she can have one with the man she loves. He leaves them to their private moment, searching for the one other person who can make him feel complete.
"Hey, Connor. How you doing, buddy…?"