House Hunting

Even Cordelia could not fail to notice that Angel seemed unusually grouchy - even by his own dour standards - now that she was staying in his apartment. He didn't say anything directly but, between his wild accusations about her misuse of peanut butter and the deep sigh he'd heaved when she'd asked for some lino glue, she knew he wasn't too happy about her staying at his place. Not that she wanted him to be happy - no thank you - she'd seen him happy, she didn't like him that way … but slightly less doom ridden and scowly might be nice.

It was like they were the odd couple - only a version where she was a perfectly normal human person, and he was this anally retentive grump who got shirty about wet towels being left on leather chairs. Like leather chairs weren't easy to wipe down! That's why you had them - no fuss no muss - easy to clean. And he was one to talk! He was the one who didn't even bother to put any mirrors up in his house, even though he knew human people with reflections might drop in at a moment's notice. She'd had to use the tea kettle to do her hair and apply her makeup - and sure, Doyle said she looked nice this morning, but for all she knew she looked like the joker.

She was starting to think this arrangement wasn't going to work out, and wondering how she should broach the idea of apartment swapping with her grumpy boss. After all, he used to live on the streets - and eat rats, a few cockroaches wouldn't bother him. And then they'd have much needed space away from each other and she'd have the nice apartment with the hot, running water and the soft bed. It was clearly the way forward. She just needed to convince him of that.

She heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and - thinking Angel was coming, as promised, to sort the kitchen floor out - she nodded her head decisively, squared her shoulders and began to prepare her arguments for the apartment swap. But her well thought out arguments died on her lips, when an ill fitting pair of pants, followed by a hideous shirt, followed by Doyle's head came into view instead of the expected vampire.

'Oh it's you,' she said.

'Don't sound so thrilled.'

'I was just expecting Angel - I need to talk to him.'

Doyle scratched the back of his head, 'yeah - about that, I was thinkin' - you can't stay here forever, princess, and you don't wanna go back to your place. We need to find you somewhere else to live. Now I might know a guy who can help out, type o' guy who keeps his ear to the ground - how about I ring him up and…'

'I'm not getting an apartment through some guy - I'm fine here.' She wasn't sure, but she thought Doyle looked awkward when she said that - like maybe he knew something she didn't. She wondered what Angel might have said to him.

He nodded, 'Yeah, sure, for now - but I'm thinkin' long term - and you need to be thinking long term too, darlin'. Now your place…' he pulled a face, 'well, I guess we all know that wasn't the long term place for you. But - you got a job now, a life, it's time you get settled in a real home. So why don't we…' he whistled, 'you know, go out and find you one?'

'You wanna go house hunting with me?' she said, arching an eyebrow.

'I got nothin' better to do.'

He winked at her, there was a twinkle in his eye and just a brief flash of dimple and she felt something melt inside of her. There was just something about being around Doyle that made her feel good. He was fun to be around and he made her feel like … the way he looked at her made her feel the way she used to. Back when she was the Queen C - back when she had everything her heart could desire, back she was somebody.

Being here in L.A - she had slowly come to the conclusion that she wasn't somebody after all; that really she had been nobody all along. Nobody special, nobody important. She had been fooling herself in her small town with her daddy's money, she had been a big fish in a tiny, little pond and the wider world was larger and harsher and she wasn't so much a minnow swimming in the ocean as one drowning in it. She couldn't break into an acting career because she didn't stand out from the crowd and she lived in a horrible apartment because it was where someone like her deserved to be.

It was tragic - but lately, the only times she felt good was when Doyle was looking at her like she was someone special, someone important. Sometimes, when he called her princess, she even managed to feel like one again. It never lasted very long though - a brief moment where she mattered to someone and then they would move on to something else and she would be no one again. And at the end of the day, she would return to her awful apartment, and stare at the paint peeling from the walls, and listen to the drips of water from the broken pipes and understand that only a nobody could end up in a place like this. This was all she had, and there was no way out and maybe she deserved it.

But maybe Doyle was right: she did now have a job, a purpose. OK it was a pretty crappy job, they never had any money and Angel was a grouch - but she did work. She was a grown up. She was starting to settle into town, she was starting to make a go of her life. Maybe it was time for her to find a home that a grown up with a job and a purpose might live in.

She'd lived these past few months since high school like a down on her luck Cinderella, waiting for the fairy tale to start and worrying it never would. Maybe it was time to start living like an adult instead.

And a proper place of her own would be a good place to start. And OK so she wouldn't be the queen of the town, she wouldn't be an A list Hollywood celebrity - but maybe she could be a somebody after all, even if only a small somebody. Maybe it was time to start her life.

… She still wasn't getting her apartment from one of Doyle's guys though. Please. She'd take him along on the hunt, sure, she liked being around him anyway and she knew well enough that the world took advantage of lone, young women; it was a sad state of affairs but she was less likely to get ripped off if she had a man by her side. But she still wasn't going to use his guys. She had some standards. Doyle's friends probably rated apartments on how close they were to the track - no way would they be able to find the kind of thing that she was looking for. But she was sure to find exactly what she was looking for in the local paper.