Lies of the Useful Sort

The sun felt warm on the Doctor's face. Living with a vampire had a way of isolating him from the daytime. The whole world flipped like a coin from bright, fun adventures into long shadows and unfriendly faces. No wonder vampires had such a consistent aesthetic.

Those shadows had started to pull at the Doctor, particularly when Summer Rain had offered to give him an alternative to his own death. The temptation of the offer tugged at his thoughts, but it was still too early. He didn't know why the death had been arranged. He didn't know who by. He needed more information before he could really commit to any solution. So once Angel had gone back to bed, the Doctor had gone outside for a walk, hoping the sun would burn off the darker thoughts.

The city itself was beautiful: The pleasantly ancient buildings of Old Town blended into the tall glass architecture of the newer Galway City and then grew plant life like hair on top of its head to the north. He decided that he loved it.

Although, he had to admit that he was a little disappointed that there hadn't been anything particularly...stoppable to stop. As comforting as the idea was that Judith and the TARDIS would simply return as a matter of course was, he felt a little like he was waiting for a much needed rain to quench his thirst. Sitting and waiting was not his strong suit. The night before, Angel had quickly returned to his little library to research contacting demon lords, which had shown the Doctor that he was apparently going to have to be the voice of patience or somehow deal with Angel needlessly summoning demons in case Judith returned just a few days late.

The Doctor turned back toward the apartment as the sun started to set, feeling pleasantly recharged in spite of the somewhat draining thought that maybe he could go back to Decade, find Summer Rain and promise to look into her death once he had his TARDIS back.

That was a decidedly bad idea. A notably, intuitively, bad idea, the Doctor thought as he climbed the steps back up to Angel's hallway.

He'd keep it as an option when he was suitably desperate. But not yet.

Not yet.

The Doctor pushed open the door to the apartment, swinging easily inward at his touch. Angel was one of the first things he saw, stretched out on the couch under the window at the opposite wall. The stack of books higher than the table next to Angel was the second thing the Doctor noticed. Angel's face was buried in one of these books and there was a presumably-empty mug of blood on the table, based on the way a single drop of red had dried, crusty and brown on its way down the side.

"Hey," Angel's voice came from the other side of the book, although he sounded distracted.

"Hey!" the Doctor echoed, although if it were an actual echo, Angel's voice would have been bouncing off much, much happier cave walls. The Doctor thought that maybe, just maybe, they had settled into a rhythm where Angel didn't seem actively annoyed that he was entering the apartment. Tucking his hands into his pockets, the Doctor stepped up to the tower of books and leaned over to observe the titles.

There was a definite demonic theme.

"Light reading?"

"Research," Angel mumbled, still sounding distracted. He turned a page.

The Doctor picked up a book and flipped through it. It was part encyclopedia and part spell book, with descriptions of demons and how to summon each one. He flipped back to a page early in the book. "You know," he said, "this guy is from the Needle Cluster. I think you'd be better off just phoning him."

"Which one?" Angel asked. He didn't look up from his reading.

"Uhhh...Needarhok 7," the Doctor read. "The number corresponds to his birth order, if you were wondering. Birth order is very important in that cluster. I didn't know they made trips to Earth." He read over the instructions again, "I guess if you have to slaughter 666 pigs to get in contact with him, he doesn't visit often. Or bacon factories are calling all the time..."

"Mmm," Angel agreed vaguely. "So are you going to phone him?"

"Would you like me to?" The Doctor wasn't much of a caller, now that he thought about it. He liked popping by for visits more. Much more personable. Much less likely to sound like a bad message - although that might not be a consistent opinion.

"Sure," Angel replied, turning another page. "That sounds great."

It occurred to the Doctor that Angel might not be listening. "I'll take apart the stove first," he said.

"Oh good," Angel said. He flipped back several pages to check something, then started reading again.

The Doctor nodded. He considered Angel for a long moment. He could join him on the couch reading, but based on the contents of the books, Angel was really seriously considering this whole sell-my-soul-to-the-devil thing. Summoning a demon did sound interesting...

The Doctor might be getting dangerously bored.

"I have an idea on how to get Judith back," he said.

Angel's face suddenly appeared from behind the book, fixing the Doctor with an unnervingly intense stare. "How?"

The Doctor beamed at him, giving him his brightest, most confident smile. "I can't tell you," he said, "but I can show you."

Angel's brow furrowed in suspicion. "Why?" he asked. "Just tell me."

"Because the solution is to give it a bit of time. I'm horribly bored, Angel. Let's go do something." The Doctor grinned, he hoped winningly.

Angel sighed. "I am doing something," he replied. "I'm seeing if Chaos demons ever take things other than souls for payment, and checking for other powerful entities than can pluck a ship out of the vortex while I'm at it. Think about it, Doctor: the sooner we get it back, the sooner you won't be horribly bored anymore."

The Doctor rocked back and forth from his toes to his heels and back again. Angel did have a point. He let out a long sigh and moved over to one of the chairs. He plucked a pile of books from the seat and sat down, setting the books on the floor. "I'm not sacrificing 666 pigs," he said. Just to be clear.

"What?" Angel said even as he disappeared behind his book again. "666 pigs? I don't know where you get these things…"

The Doctor picked up one of the books. "I don't know either," he said, flipping to the first page to take in a detailed sketch of what seemed to be a skeleton made of nothing but teeth. The science involved seemed highly suspect, but it was a thing to do…

They read their respective books in silence for a long time, except for the turning of pages (quick turning, on Angel's part, like a microsecond lost in the turning was too much). Eventually, Angel sat up suddenly and said, "Okay, for something this big I think Chaos demons are out, but what about a Galtorprax? They want blood, and it doesn't even have to be your own. You might be onto something with the pigs, Doctor."

The spike of relief that had flooded through the Doctor when Angel had sat up drained out of the Doctor just as quickly. "I think I specified no pigs."

Angel rolled his eyes. "Alright, I'll find us a demon, then. No problem." He swung his legs off the couch, planting his feet on the floor. "I say we set up outside; the sand is hell on my floor."

The Doctor stood up and took a step forward, reaching out for the book Angel had been reading. "Can I just..." he said.

Angel nodded and handed him the book. The Doctor read through it. Twice.

"Angel..." the Doctor said.

"Yeah." Angel looked up at him expectantly.

"You know when you show up in a situation, and it's a disaster and you wonder why anyone would make all the necessary decisions that would result in the disaster that you're standing in?"

Angel frowned. "Maybe. What are you getting at?"

The Doctor flipped back a few pages. "It says this demon...'eats the hearts of the pure.'"

"Yeah, well, we're not going to let him out of the circle," Angel said like this was the most obvious thing in the world. He stood up, but immediately bent over to open the drawers of his apothecary table.

"Then why didn't you do this before?" the Doctor said, closing the book in his hands.

"Hadn't thought of it," Angel replied. He waved his hand at the library. "I've tried other magics, altering location spells to include time and things like that. And, yeah, summoning something for power is dangerous, but-" He shrugged again and gave the Doctor a resigned look.

"If this goes wrong, we won't be the ones who pay the price," the Doctor said. They both knew neither of their hearts were pure. Risking others lives for their own convenience was unacceptable to him. Perhaps he would risk something dangerous to himself to shave off a few hours or days from the wait, but he wouldn't risk someone else. And the Angel he saw wouldn't either. He reached out and touched Angel's shoulder. "Why can't you see that there's a happy ending to this?" he said.

Angel swallowed uncomfortably. "Because happy endings aren't something I see very often. Not for me and the people I- I care about." He shifted his weight and added, "The longer we wait, the less happy the ending is going to be. We're coming up on the end of her vacation time and then she's going to lose her job and her livelihood and her role in society and after that what's next? Her friends; her family growing up without her... It's like a- a time bomb, and we can stop it, Doctor, if we just got her back now. Between you and me we should be able to do this, shouldn't we?" There was a hint of desperation to his voice, like he needed his belief in their abilities to be true or his world might crumble.

The Doctor knew how that felt. Self reliance was how he survived the universe more often than he liked to admit. And as it was, his whole life seemed to be careening toward a notably tragic ending where he was shot by his...well, he didn't quite have a word for that yet. But in his experience, the only way to keep moving in the face of the unyielding cynicism of the universe was to bravely wait for it to show the glimmer of hope.

But when the glimmer seemed too far away to touch...

Then the Doctor needed to rely on a different set of abilities. Angel was right. They couldn't make sure everything wouldn't work out as they wanted, but he could do something.

"We'll talk to her boss," the Doctor said decisively.

Angel rolled his eyes. "That's not getting her back," he said. "That's pointing out that she's gone."

"It's buying us more time," the Doctor said. He scanned his eyes over the books. "You're better than this," the Doctor said. He said it firmly, like he could jolt Angel into remembering it. "You love people. And we're not going to start putting others at risk when we can keep buying ourselves time."

Angel did jolt, physically. He looked up at the Doctor like he'd jabbed him with a cattle prod. Then he shrugged, brushing it off and pulling himself back together.

"Give me a chance," the Doctor said. "We'll write a happier ending."

Angel hesitated, and that seemed like a good sign. At least it wasn't a blatant Hell, no.

"How are you so sure we can?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," the Doctor said, "but I have faith."

"In what?"

The Doctor smiled warmly. "You're not always being punished by circumstances," the Doctor said. "I think things can work out if you let them. The universe can be a beautiful, wonderful, giving place." He paused, giving Angel's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "Also," he said after a moment, "I have a lot of faith in my ability to come up with an amazing and convincing story to tell her boss."

Angel snorted a little with amusement, which was at least something. "I don't have that kind of faith," he admitted. "Not in the universe. Or even in Chance working out in my favor. But in your ability to come up with bullshit stories?" He smiled. "That I do believe in. We can put this on hold," he caught the Doctor's eye pointedly.

That sounded a lot like the Doctor had just bought himself some time. "Well let's do that," the Doctor said. He tucked the book into his jacket pocket. "I'll show you how to weave a web of lies so thick it looks like a tapestry!"


"You don't say," Thea Hartmell, the short, serious hospital administrator said in a hushed tone. "But...witness protection? Will she be back?"

The Doctor nodded seriously, tucking away the bifold that had somehow convinced a professional that the Doctor was a member of the police into his breast pocket. "It's mostly a precaution. Once we can confirm that the people involved are not the people we're worried are involved, we'll have Judith back at work."

Thea nodded gravely.

"Of course, due to security protocol, I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from asking her any details when she returns," the Doctor said seriously. "Or even spreading this information around. It's best kept between us." He winked at her and Angel wasn't sure if the gesture was surprisingly charming for someone as awkward as the Doctor or if it was coming off as charming because he looked awkward doing it.

Either way, Thea giggled when he did it. And she really didn't look like someone who would giggle.

"Well," the Doctor said, standing up from where he'd been leaning over the counter, "I have a few more stops to make. Please, keep this as quiet as possible." He slapped the counter a few times and stepped away, walking away down the hall like he belonged just there in that moment.

Angel offered Thea a quick nod and followed after him, trying to look the same level of belonging (which shouldn't have been hard - Angel walked around the back halls of the hospital often enough to get blood, he belonged there more than the Doctor).

"How did you do that?" he asked when they were out of earshot. "What did you show her?"

The Doctor pulled the little bifold out and flipped it open, showing it to Angel.

It looked like two completely blank pieces of paper in a bifold.

Angel looked up at the Doctor. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," the Doctor said, grinning. "It says whatever I want. Like Cricket King or..." he turned it around to look at it, "Pretty Good Roommate," he read. Or pretended to read, since it was still clearly blank.

"It doesn't say anything like that," Angel told him, feeling a little foolish (whether because it was an obvious statement or because he was obviously missing something, he wasn't sure). "It's a piece of paper."

"Really?" the Doctor said, sounding pleased. "How clever of you, Angel." He flipped it closed and tucked it back into his pocket. "It's psychic paper. Have you seen it before, then?"

"No," Angel said, mystified. "It's what? Psychic? How can a paper be psychic?"

"It's specifically designed to pick up on brain waves. So, you think what you want it to say, and then when someone reads it, it communicates the message in a believable way directly into that person's brain. Apparently, the message is getting lost along the way." The Doctor peered over at Angel, curiosity covering his features. "You can be trained to spot it, or a natural psychic is going to see it as a clear fake. Like being able to tell the difference between people on the telly and people in real life. And often certain types of genius figure their way around it. Shakespeare wasn't impressed."

"Huh," Angel said. Come to think of it, an item like that sounded rather useful. "There many of those around?" he asked as they exited through the automatic front doors of the hospital.

"Not in this century," the Doctor said. "Time Agents apparently got their hands on them, though, so I'm sure there's quite a few if you know where to look."

"Huh," Angel said again. "I'll have to keep an eye out…" He took in a breath of the cold winter air, enjoying the sensation in his lungs, and let it out again, considering their situation. "We can't tell that story to her friends," he concluded. "They'll ask for details. Despite you and the psychic paper telling them not to."

"Yes," the Doctor said. "It's rather better for starting gossip than stopping it, honestly. Can't we just say she's visiting someone?"

"William did suggest we could tell people her mother's ill," Angel said. "I mean, it's kind of flimsy with modern communication the way it is, but…" He shrugged. "It's really not like her to just up and go without telling anyone."

"Maybe it's serious," the Doctor said with a hit of drama. "She's very distressed."

"She and her mother do have a stressful relationship, from what I gather," Angel nodded. He added as an afterthought, "I thought she was nice enough, but I get it, with parents."

The Doctor blew out a breath of agreement, the air forming a small cloud in front of him.

"I'll call Will and update him," Angel decided as they paused to wait to cross the street. "And then…" He eyed the oddly-flat pocket where the Doctor had stuffed the spellbook he'd stolen from Angel earlier (Angel was calling it stealing even though the Doctor had asked to see it and Angel had given it to him - shoving it in his pocket where Angel couldn't use it to summon a demon definitely counted as stealing).

"And then we'll have bought ourselves some time," the Doctor said cheerfully. "I love time, don't you? You can just feel the options open up." He opened his arms and turned, welcoming in the crosswalk atmosphere.

Angel rubbed his forehead tiredly. Their arguing about time and waiting for good things to sort themselves out could last years, he suddenly realized. And the Doctor had the book that could change that. "I'll make you a deal," he offered.

The Doctor clicked his heels together as he came to a stop again. He leaned forward just inside a comfortable distance from Angel. "Yes?"

"We give them a week," Angel said. "If they're not back in a week, we do things my way."

"A week from today or...?"

"Yes," Angel nodded. The crosswalk light changed and they started across. "A week from today. That's a reasonable amount of time to account for with the lies we're using to cover up Judith's disappearance."

The Doctor followed after him, his legs taking some time to catch up with his shoulders. "I like it," he said. "Deal. We take a week and then we do something crazy."

"Really?" Angel said before he meant to. He'd been expecting some negotiation first. "Great. I mean, fine. Yes. A week."

Angel let that sink in a bit. A week of living with the Doctor. And it had already been almost a week. They had settled into a sort-of routine centered around the temporariness of the Doctor's presence, like he'd surely be leaving any minute, and now Angel had gone and solidified it. Invited him to stay for a week while they...waited.

It had seemed like a much better idea when Angel had been thinking about getting his way with the summoning thing. Now he had an intentional houseguest whom Angel knew he hadn't exactly been making feel welcome.

Angel glanced over at the Doctor. "Um, in that case, you can take the bed tonight. I know I've been kind of hogging it…"

"I don't sleep," the Doctor reminded him, his head drifting up to look at Angel's building: the first of the tall buildings outside of the hospital grounds.

Angel rolled his eyes slightly. "Yeah, you tried that joke already on me." Maybe Time Lords had a thing against imposing on hosts for their beds. While it was true that Angel had never actually seen the Doctor sleep, it was also true that he might require less sleep and Angel had simply slept through all of the Doctor's sleeping on the couch. He wasn't aware of any creature that simply didn't sleep at all. "I mean, we could share the bed, too, if that makes you feel better."

The Doctor lowered his gaze, but seemed to become interested in someone across the street. "Why? Does it make a difference?"

"Where you sleep?" Angel asked. "I mean...yeah. I want you to be comfortable. And well rested. I mean, if we're living together for a week, might as well be…" he rolled his wrist, looking for the right word, but he couldn't come up with anything beyond, "comfortable." He directed the Doctor up the front steps to his building.

The Doctor smiled then, like this was a completely unexpected development, but one he was amazed to receive. His attention found its way back to Angel. "Really?" he said. "I'm staying?"

"Well, yeah," Angel chuckled uncertainly. He had thought that was a given, but apparently the Doctor hadn't. Was there a reason Angel had missed? "Isn't that the deal?"

"I guess it was," the Doctor said. He pulled the door open for Angel, holding it as he passed. "You're right. Of course. Totally. Gotta keep an eye on me."

"Well, that's only part of it," Angel replied, half smiling at him. "So do you want the bed to yourself or not? I really don't mind the couch."

"I'll let you know if I get tired," the Doctor said.

Angel raised an eyebrow at him as they rounded the landing on the stairs. He was about to press the Doctor on the issue when he heard a woman's voice in the foyer below, calling,

"Excuse me? Sir?"

Angel and the Doctor paused, looked at each other, and then returned to the top of the stairs. Angel recognized his neighbor - and Judith's friend - Marietta Goldberg looking up at them from below. He swallowed nervously. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry," she said, "I was just- You know my friend Judith Cole, don't you?"

"Yes," Angel replied slowly. "Why?"

Mrs. Goldberg started up the stairs toward them. "It's just that- I don't mean to alarm, of course- It's only that I haven't heard from her recently and it's unusual. Do you have much contact with her?"

Angel unintentionally made a strange noise in his throat. Aside from the last several days, he had had much more contact with Judith recently than he'd ever expected to.

"Oh, you haven't heard?" the Doctor said, sweeping down the stairs toward Mrs. Goldberg. Before she could respond, the Doctor stopped on the step above her to execute the formal air kiss that he seemed to think was required for introductions. "I'm Dr. John Smith," he said. "I'm staying with Angel for a few weeks. I lost my house recently..."

"Poor dear!" Mrs. Goldberg said.

"I know," the Doctor said tragically, "but Angel was just saying that William, you know her son William? Nice boy. I like him. He was just saying how Judith's mother was sick. She's had to go help out right away. It's not my place, but it sounded like a real stressful relationship. I always like to give that sort of thing some space." The Doctor whispered this last bit, like it was some deeply new and interesting advice.

"Oh," Mrs. Goldberg nodded in fervent agreement. They were gripping both hands between them like holding onto each other for emotional support. "Yes, of course. You're right, you know, her mother is- Well, one mustn't spread rumors of course. Suffice it to say I think you're right. Poor Judy. I should call her just to let her know I'm thinking of her, and her poor mother."

"I think the hospital has her keeping the Palm on silent," the Doctor said. "William was complaining that he couldn't get through, but I find a kind message is always appreciated."

"Yes, right," Mrs. Goldberg nodded again. "Thank you, I'll do that. And I'll let the other ladies in our group know. We've all been concerned. It's really not like her, but when it's family…" She tilted her head like making a concession. She glanced up the stairs past the Doctor and met Angel's eyes.

Angel suppressed a shiver. Her eyes seemed to penetrate straight through him.

"Well, I won't bother you any longer," she said, breaking the gaze and her grip on the Doctor's hands. "Thank you both very much."

"Nice to meet you," the Doctor said, waving as she headed back down the stairs. Then he swiveled around and headed up back toward Angel. "It's nice to have friends that care," he said pleasantly.

Angel waited for the front door to close behind Mrs. Goldberg and the Doctor to return to the landing before starting up the next flight. They climbed the first few steps in silence and then Angel said tensely, "I think she knows."

"That Judith stole a time machine and took a joyride?" the Doctor said. "Color me impressed."

"No," Angel sighed, rolling his eyes. "About- About us." He swallowed. He'd never used the word 'us' in relation to Judith meaning that sort of 'us.' He'd never said anything of the sort out loud about her at all.

"She knows that I'm really a stranded alien temporarily staying in your apartment? Color me very impressed." He paused. "Actually, no, that one is kind of obvious."

Angel rubbed his forehead with his fingers. The Doctor was being dense on purpose, he just knew it. Well, he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. They rounded the landing on the next floor and as they continued climbing, Angel said, "Never mind. Forget it."

"What?" the Doctor said, looking genuinely confused. "Which 'us'?"

"You know," Angel said, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets. "You keep alluding to it, even though I keep telling you it's not true."

The Doctor blinked, briefly placing a hand on his chest, like trying to grab Angel's accusation from where it had stuck. "Tell me again," he said, "what's not true?"

It took until the next landing until Angel finally pulled it together enough to say, "Judith. Is not my girlfriend."

"Oh!" the Doctor said. A moment later, he seemed to reassemble their conversation and said more seriously, "Oh." He turned and looked over the railing, like he expected to be able to spot Mrs. Goldberg from their current vantage point. "Oh. Is she not supposed to know?"

"No one is," Angel replied, breathing the words out like someone might overhear. "There's- It's not-" He sighed. "We barely even know," he admitted. They reached the top of the stairs and turned to go down Angel's hall. "It's very new and-" he waved his hand vaguely. "No, she's not supposed to know. But I think she does."

The Doctor's mouth dropped open, like he had finally understood a deep mystery. "Right," he said in a whisper. He waited while they walked down the hallway in silence, like helping Angel keep the secret from the listening walls and doors around them. It was silly, but Angel appreciated it. Only once Angel had closed the door to his flat behind them did the Doctor say, "I didn't realize she was that important to you."

As Angel shrugged out of his coat, somewhat crowded by the large, turning, "Timey-Wimey" detector that took up much of his open space, he asked, "Didn't you? You realized something, with all that girlfriend talk. I mean, god, minutes after meeting her you asked if we were engaged."

"I mean..." the Doctor shifted uncomfortably, "I thought...that it's...I was mostly..." he waved a hand in the air, "but you said you weren't. So I thought that we were sticking with...that."

"We are," Angel said, hanging his coat up. "Because we're not. Any of that. Engaged or dating or-" He paused, the air heavy with his silence.

Angel turned around to face the Doctor, who looked completely bewildered. Angel hesitated again, but he had already said it in essence, so he bit the bullet. "But... We are sleeping together. And that's-" Angel shrugged uncertainly and turned to go into the kitchen. "I don't know. People don't know yet."

There was a long pause but eventually the Doctor crept into the kitchen after him. "I'm sorry," he said softly behind Angel.

Angel nodded. He hadn't come into the kitchen for anything in particular except for something to do. Maybe he'd get a glass of water. Or tea. Tea took a long time to make. He went to get the teapot. "I think she knows," he repeated. "My neighbor."

This time, the Doctor winced sympathetically. "I don't know," he said. "She might just think our story was weird."

"She came by the other night," Angel said. "Last week, I guess, now…" He waved his hand dismissively as he filled the kettle with water. "She said she was doing a building poll and came in. Judith was in the bedroom…" Mostly undressed. Angel cleared his throat. "She didn't see her, but I think she suspected. I teased Judith about her figuring it out. Seemed funnier at the time."

The Doctor had paused just inside the kitchen doorway, like it was a threshold to a different house altogether. "But you miss her," the Doctor said.

"Well, yeah," Angel said softly. "But…" But he wasn't sure what. He set the kettle on the stove and lit the flame under it. "I'm not sure...how...much. How much I'm supposed to… I mean, we haven't even talked about it, Doctor, we just started doing this thing and now she's gone and people are asking questions - to me like I'm supposed to know better than anyone else - and am I supposed to just miss her as much as a friend would or more than that, and if I'm supposed to miss her more than that does that mean that there's something more here? Because there isn't supposed to be!"

"I think you probably already know how much you miss her," the Doctor said softly. "Probably more than you know how much you're supposed to feel."

Angel closed his eyes and shook his head. "That's not actually the point," he said, well aware that it was exactly the point of his rant, but he hadn't meant it to be the point. "The point is, I don't know what to do with any of this, and she's not around to- To ask. Or just-" He shifted uncomfortably. "Or just kiss me so I don't have to ask." That was exactly how it had been going before, and it had worked just fine for him.

The Doctor moved into the kitchen, delicately stepping toward the small table at the wall. He leaned against it. "You can ask her when she gets back," he said.

Angel laughed a little hysterically at the very idea. "Me? It's my fault, actually. That we're still…" he waved his hand. "I can't ask her because then she'd have to ask me the same thing. Why I asked her back to my place again at all. Doctor, I don't know why I asked again. I thought the point was that we weren't asking each other, that we were careening toward something kind of exciting and maybe disastrous, but at least we were doing it together, you know?" He turned and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. "So yeah, I miss her, but also there's a part of me that's a little terrified of when she comes back. Whenever that is."

The Doctor nodded, looking down at the kitchen floor for a long moment. "We can always summon a demon, if it's too scary," he said.

"Can we please?" Angel asked feebly. Angel knew how to deal with demons.

The Doctor smiled at him. "I think you should take a week," he said. "Take a moment."

"And do what with it?" Angel asked. "There aren't any answers without her around."

"There's answers about you," the Doctor said. "And there's space to remember that there is more than this."

Angel shifted uncomfortably. "Like?" he asked, looking up at the Doctor.

The Doctor gave him a goofy grin. He opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. "Friends!" he said.

Angel stared at him. The goofy grin did not falter. Angel continued to stare. The Doctor continued to grin.

Angel broke first with a snort. And then he burst out laughing. A moment later the Doctor joined him, laughing until he leaned forward, his hands across his stomach.

"Friends," Angel repeated, still laughing as he thought about being friends with the Doctor, whom he'd nearly killed, and Judith, whom he was suddenly sleeping with. "I'm having a hard time with the whole friends thing right now."

"What?" the Doctor said, still chuckling. He leaned back against the table. "We're doing great! Aren't we?"

Angel sobered a little. "Yeah," he said. "We are. I meant me and Judith. This whole…" he waved his hand vaguely, "friends-until-we're...you know. Thing."

"But you can always be friends," the Doctor said. It was odd how innocent he could be about some things.

Angel raised an eyebrow. He felt lighter after laughing; freer to talk about it a little more openly now. "After having sex? After the first time, maybe, since that was the agreement. After the third…?" Angel swallowed, the familiar knot that had developed over the past week starting to return. "I was content to think so. Now I'm not so sure."

Nodding seriously, the Doctor said, "That would complicate it. That's why I usually avoid that situation."

Angel was unsure what to make of that. It almost sounded from his tone like the Doctor hadn't known that sex was involved until Angel said the actual word, but...what the hell else would they be talking about? And for that matter, "You do? So you're…" He sniffed the air as inconspicuously as he could, wondering if he'd gotten the Doctor's virginity assessment wrong the first time. Hard to tell, from this distance, but he didn't think he'd gotten it wrong. The kettle reached a full boil and Angel turned the stove off. He went to get a few mugs.

"I'm what?" the Doctor said. "Usually more interested in friendships? They're easier."

"Ah," Angel nodded. "Right, okay. That's definitely true." He set two mugs on the table and went to get some teabags.

"But it's also true that sometimes people are more wonderful than you expected," the Doctor allowed. "I mean, if you love her, Angel, I don't think it's a problem."

Angel coughed, dropping the box of tea he'd just gotten out onto the counter, where it bounced and tumbled to the floor. "Love her? No- I mean, of course like a friend, but there is no- I'm not in love with her."

Letting out a sigh, the Doctor leveled a disappointed look at Angel. It was oddly parental and even more oddly effective. Angel shifted uncomfortably and bent to pick up the box of teabags. "What?" he asked defensively.

"You do love her. You've been saying nothing else since we started this talk. And all week, now that you mention it..." the Doctor scowled out at the doorway. "I really should have picked up on that."

Angel sighed sharply. "I care about her," he said firmly, pulling two bags out of the box. "A lot. I admit that. She's been a good friend for a long time. If that's what you meant, then we have nothing to argue about." He set the box aside with a hard tap on the counter, tossed the teabags onto the table, and went to get the kettle. "Black tea okay? I think I'm out of peppermint."

"Okay," the Doctor said. He reached for the teabags and went about dropping them into the mugs. Angel filled the mugs with hot water and then set out a small dish for them to put their teabags in when they'd steeped.

"Milk?" Angel asked. "Sugar?"

"Yes, please," the Doctor said, playing with his teabag.

Angel fetched the milk and sugar and set them on the table in front of the Doctor. He sat down, swirled his teabag a bit, and pulled it out, setting it on the dish. The Doctor took the opposite seat and went through the process of removing his teabag and adding milk and sugar with his quick, finicky movements.

They both sipped their tea in silence.

They finished their tea in silence.

Angel silently collected the mugs and placed them in the sink where the Doctor wordlessly washed and dried them.

While the Doctor was occupied, Angel wandered into the living room where he surveyed the piles of books stacked around the couch like a wall. He slowly went about gathering them and returning them to the shelf, making sure that each of them were put back in their proper place.

The Doctor came in from the kitchen, plucked the small TARDIS-summoning device from its home on the bookshelf, and settled himself on the one clear spot on the couch where he absently poked and prodded it.

When all the books but one were returned to the shelf, Angel settled himself down on the now-clear chair and started to read.

He'd started in the third chapter when the Doctor suddenly stood up. "But if you don't love her, then what are you so worried about!"

"I'm worried," Angel said, practically tossing his book aside to stand up, too, "because we're still having sex like we are in love but we shouldn't be and every time we have the opportunity to clear the air, we take it to the bedroom instead! I'm worried because I don't want to talk about it! And I'm worried because I already love someone else!" He huffed like he'd suddenly won the argument.

The Doctor opened his mouth, closed it, raised a finger and slowly directed it around the room like trying to locate this new third person in a crowd. Dropping his finger he tucked his hand into his jacket pocket. "Ah," he said. He sank back onto the couch.

"That's it?" Angel asked, somehow disappointed despite his victory.

"That does sound stressful," the Doctor said. "Honestly, I'm impressed you want her to come back." He held up a hand. "I don't mean that. Mostly. I probably don't mean to mean that."

"Well," Angel said, deflating a little. "Yeah. I care about her." Said the broken record. He sighed, sitting back down in his chair. "She's one of my closest friends. And-" he hesitated briefly, "-she's really good in bed." That is, she took particular care to pay attention to Angel and his cues. He hadn't realized how much less having whatever great moves counted when actual communication was happening; when he could know that she'd do that thing he liked again because she noticed he'd liked it the first time. Her touch made him feel heard without having to talk, which was also maybe why he didn't want to talk to her about any of this. It could ruin the magic.

The Doctor turned his interest back to the small device in his hand, looking at it and not at Angel. "What about the other person?"

Angel shrugged. "We're not together. Not really. Just when she comes to town. I've loved her for...centuries, really. But we can't be together, so… She said not to wait for her, if someone else came along."

Nodding, the Doctor took this information in. "It's odd," he said, "how important timing is to these things."

Angel almost smiled with how true it was. "Yeah," he agreed softly. "I'm worried that this whole thing has ruined that timing. For Judith and me, I mean."

The Doctor looked up at Angel. "It might have," he said. "I'm sorry."

To hear the Doctor admit it was better than any denial or empty assurance that everything would work out. It was like he finally realized Angel's situation and acknowledged it; and with that acknowledgement, things could move forward.

"Thanks," Angel said quietly. "I guess there's no other choice now...when she comes back, I mean. We'll just have to...talk. And see what happens."

"Maybe it'll be good," the Doctor said, hopefully.

"Maybe," Angel agreed. "Whatever 'good' means in this case. I think that's part of the problem. What is the 'good' choice here?"

"I think that will depend on what she has to say," the Doctor said softly.

Angel nodded. And there was no way to predict what that would be. So Angel had a week to wait and stew over all the possible ways that conversation could pan out, and when he wasn't doing that, he could ruminate endlessly over what his half of the conversation was going to be. "I've never been good at waiting for things like this," he admitted.

"Me neither," the Doctor said with a small smile. "Consequence of living on a TARDIS, I suppose."

"It does sound nice to just...skip over things like this," Angel said. "I guess I was trying to do that with…" He gestured at his books.

The Doctor nodded. "I wonder what I've missed then," he said, "skipping over this sort of thing."

"Agony," Angel informed him. "Misery. Constant entrapment in your own anxiety. I support skipping it."

"I knew it," the Doctor said, looking pleased with his life choices to date.

Angel let out a breath of laughter and shook his head. "Well," he said, gripping the armrests of his chair, getting ready to get up. "Since we can't do that, want to go pick a fight with whatever evil thing has decided to come out on this cold night?"

The Doctor stood up readily. He pulled at his coat and adjusted his bowtie. "Angel, I was born ready." He blinked at Angel's expression until his serious expression fell into one of disappointment. "Okay, I won't say that again. Yes, please. Let's go out."