Setting: Story is between first episode of the first season named "City
Of." And "In the Dark"
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Hell, I don't even own the shoes I'm wearing now.
Summery: Angel/Doyle, season 1, slash
Warning-SLASH but the rating is correct.
Part two/?
Dedicated to Jack for staying sober to talk to me when everyone else was drunk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Doyle sat quietly at the computer the next morning. He was biting a nail while staring at the screen. Cordelia wandered in at eleven AM and stared at him. "Are you actually doing work or just looking at dirty pictures?"
"I had a vision last night and it was vague. And it's left me looking up Greek mythology."
"Oh, ok, I'm gonna make coffee." Said Cordy in a chipper tone not wanting to know anymore.
"And by making coffee do you mean poison us?" asked Angel stepping out of the elevator.
"No, . . . but it might work out that way."
"Only if we're lucky, sweetheart," said Doyle not looking up from the computer. "And with my luck I'll just end up in hospital in large amounts of pain."
Cordy rolled her eyes as she walked out to the foyer where the coffee maker was.
"Whatcha doin'?" asked Angel looking over Doyle's shoulder.
"Vision research." Answered Doyle without looking up.
"Last night? Why didn't you call me?" asked Angel concerned.
"It wasn't urgent, I knew it could wait 'til mornin'."
"Are you ok?"
"Fine, it was an average vision." Said Doyle with his eyes still on the screen.
His eyes were brimmed with red as though he hadn't slept or had been crying. He wouldn't meet Angel's eye. "Are you sure?"
"Yep." The fact was he'd had horrible dreams all night and due to a large amount of scotch in his blood at the time Doyle now could not tell what had been nightmares and what had been prophetic vision. His head pounded when he awoke more than just his average hangover, so at least two of them had been messages from the PTB. Which he was sure. hallucinations of young girls being torn limb from limb, Buffy being torn limb from limb, Angel with Buffy. On and on the prospects marched through his mind. Somebody whispering all the time, "he thinks he loves him? It's exactly like a Greek play. We should all be Greek." Something about the line had stuck with him and here he sat looking up Greek mythology. It seemed important somehow.
Angel watched him for a moment before standing up and shutting the door blocking off Cordy. He walked back and sat in the chair next to Doyle's. He spun Doyle's pivoting chair around to face him, their knees bumping as he did so. Doyle cast his eyes down to his lap still not meeting Angel's eyes. "Doyle, look at me." Said Angel softly tilting Doyle's chin up. "What is going on? What's the matter?"
"I had horrible dreams all night, and I was so drunk that I couldn't tell the differences between the visions and the nightmares. And now I just feel weird and out of it."
"You weren't drunk when you left." Said Angel thinking back to the night before and the kiss.
"I went out with Frankie Tripod after I left."
"Ahh, and how is he?"
"Cryin' o'er some girl."
"And what's really bothering you?" asked Angel softly.
"Nothing!" said Doyle a tad too quickly.
"Then why won't you look me in the eye?"
Doyle looked up slowly and asked finally, "When are you going back to Sunnydale, Angel?"
Angel suddenly smiled. "I'm not going back to her, Doyle. That was very over long before I left and whether or not my soul is at risk is no longer here nor there. I can't go back there, that part of my life is done with." Doyle looked down again feeling rejected. Angel realized and lifted his chin again. "Nor would I if I could. I don't want to be there. I wanta be here." He saw that there was still some doubt in Doyle's eyes and he wondered not for the first time what had happened in the boy's past. "I want to be with you."
"Really?" asked Doyle with a slight smile.
Angel just nodded with his small lopsided smile. "So what's the deal with this vision?"
"I don't know what was dream and what was prophetic, as I said. The only thing I know for sure was a voice saying, "It's exactly like a Greek play. We should all be Greek." And I knew the voice." He said it again imitating the voice as Cordy walked into the room.
"Sounds like Anya." She said.
"Who?"
"Anya Jenkins. I went to school with her, she was a vengeance demon. Went to prom with Xander. Granted my wish that Buffy never came to Sunnydale. You remember, Angel, you were in that cage and Vamp Willow was torturing you?"
"Oh yeah, I never thanked you for that experience."
"Her power source got broken now she's just human."
"Well I'd wager she's back in the game. What did you say her name was: Anya?" He thought for a moment. "Not, Anyanka? I used to run with her, nice girl, very mislead."
"Nice? Do we need to worry?" asked Angel still sitting knee to knee with the boy.
"Nice, don't get me wrong, but deadly. We worry. But hey! That's a nice little cryptic warning from the powers."
"Was there anything else?" asked Angel.
"Nothing of consequence." Lied Doyle. "The rest of it was just the wonders of my self depreciating mind." He added softly so only Angel heard him, though Doyle had not meant him to, he simply forgot of the vampire's hearing. Angel squeezed his hand.
The action didn't go below Cordy's radar but for once she actually kept her mouth shut. "Well I know a lot of women scorned who would be right in Anya's cliental, so while I follow those leads you guys look up her possible reason's for being here and not say: anywhere else."
"Was Cordelia just being helpful?" asked Angel after the girl flew out, a tornado of leather and Fendi.
"I think she may have been."
"Wow, if I had any money I'd give her a raise." They both laughed softly and then angel leaned into Doyle for a kiss and rested his forehead on the other man's. "Don't beat yourself up so much, you're an amazing strong man. And the only one who doesn't believe that is you."
"We should be doing work, Angel man." Said Doyle softly not wanting to confront Angel's last statement.
Angel sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, yeah we do."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Continue?
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Hell, I don't even own the shoes I'm wearing now.
Summery: Angel/Doyle, season 1, slash
Warning-SLASH but the rating is correct.
Part two/?
Dedicated to Jack for staying sober to talk to me when everyone else was drunk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Doyle sat quietly at the computer the next morning. He was biting a nail while staring at the screen. Cordelia wandered in at eleven AM and stared at him. "Are you actually doing work or just looking at dirty pictures?"
"I had a vision last night and it was vague. And it's left me looking up Greek mythology."
"Oh, ok, I'm gonna make coffee." Said Cordy in a chipper tone not wanting to know anymore.
"And by making coffee do you mean poison us?" asked Angel stepping out of the elevator.
"No, . . . but it might work out that way."
"Only if we're lucky, sweetheart," said Doyle not looking up from the computer. "And with my luck I'll just end up in hospital in large amounts of pain."
Cordy rolled her eyes as she walked out to the foyer where the coffee maker was.
"Whatcha doin'?" asked Angel looking over Doyle's shoulder.
"Vision research." Answered Doyle without looking up.
"Last night? Why didn't you call me?" asked Angel concerned.
"It wasn't urgent, I knew it could wait 'til mornin'."
"Are you ok?"
"Fine, it was an average vision." Said Doyle with his eyes still on the screen.
His eyes were brimmed with red as though he hadn't slept or had been crying. He wouldn't meet Angel's eye. "Are you sure?"
"Yep." The fact was he'd had horrible dreams all night and due to a large amount of scotch in his blood at the time Doyle now could not tell what had been nightmares and what had been prophetic vision. His head pounded when he awoke more than just his average hangover, so at least two of them had been messages from the PTB. Which he was sure. hallucinations of young girls being torn limb from limb, Buffy being torn limb from limb, Angel with Buffy. On and on the prospects marched through his mind. Somebody whispering all the time, "he thinks he loves him? It's exactly like a Greek play. We should all be Greek." Something about the line had stuck with him and here he sat looking up Greek mythology. It seemed important somehow.
Angel watched him for a moment before standing up and shutting the door blocking off Cordy. He walked back and sat in the chair next to Doyle's. He spun Doyle's pivoting chair around to face him, their knees bumping as he did so. Doyle cast his eyes down to his lap still not meeting Angel's eyes. "Doyle, look at me." Said Angel softly tilting Doyle's chin up. "What is going on? What's the matter?"
"I had horrible dreams all night, and I was so drunk that I couldn't tell the differences between the visions and the nightmares. And now I just feel weird and out of it."
"You weren't drunk when you left." Said Angel thinking back to the night before and the kiss.
"I went out with Frankie Tripod after I left."
"Ahh, and how is he?"
"Cryin' o'er some girl."
"And what's really bothering you?" asked Angel softly.
"Nothing!" said Doyle a tad too quickly.
"Then why won't you look me in the eye?"
Doyle looked up slowly and asked finally, "When are you going back to Sunnydale, Angel?"
Angel suddenly smiled. "I'm not going back to her, Doyle. That was very over long before I left and whether or not my soul is at risk is no longer here nor there. I can't go back there, that part of my life is done with." Doyle looked down again feeling rejected. Angel realized and lifted his chin again. "Nor would I if I could. I don't want to be there. I wanta be here." He saw that there was still some doubt in Doyle's eyes and he wondered not for the first time what had happened in the boy's past. "I want to be with you."
"Really?" asked Doyle with a slight smile.
Angel just nodded with his small lopsided smile. "So what's the deal with this vision?"
"I don't know what was dream and what was prophetic, as I said. The only thing I know for sure was a voice saying, "It's exactly like a Greek play. We should all be Greek." And I knew the voice." He said it again imitating the voice as Cordy walked into the room.
"Sounds like Anya." She said.
"Who?"
"Anya Jenkins. I went to school with her, she was a vengeance demon. Went to prom with Xander. Granted my wish that Buffy never came to Sunnydale. You remember, Angel, you were in that cage and Vamp Willow was torturing you?"
"Oh yeah, I never thanked you for that experience."
"Her power source got broken now she's just human."
"Well I'd wager she's back in the game. What did you say her name was: Anya?" He thought for a moment. "Not, Anyanka? I used to run with her, nice girl, very mislead."
"Nice? Do we need to worry?" asked Angel still sitting knee to knee with the boy.
"Nice, don't get me wrong, but deadly. We worry. But hey! That's a nice little cryptic warning from the powers."
"Was there anything else?" asked Angel.
"Nothing of consequence." Lied Doyle. "The rest of it was just the wonders of my self depreciating mind." He added softly so only Angel heard him, though Doyle had not meant him to, he simply forgot of the vampire's hearing. Angel squeezed his hand.
The action didn't go below Cordy's radar but for once she actually kept her mouth shut. "Well I know a lot of women scorned who would be right in Anya's cliental, so while I follow those leads you guys look up her possible reason's for being here and not say: anywhere else."
"Was Cordelia just being helpful?" asked Angel after the girl flew out, a tornado of leather and Fendi.
"I think she may have been."
"Wow, if I had any money I'd give her a raise." They both laughed softly and then angel leaned into Doyle for a kiss and rested his forehead on the other man's. "Don't beat yourself up so much, you're an amazing strong man. And the only one who doesn't believe that is you."
"We should be doing work, Angel man." Said Doyle softly not wanting to confront Angel's last statement.
Angel sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, yeah we do."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Continue?