Doyle/Cordelia fic
Title: One Little Mistake
Author: bethos (Bethos)
Pairing: Doyle/Cordelia
Rating: G (PG? Probably G.)
Summary: A tiny error brings certain things to light sooner than they would have normally progressed. (Spoilers for "Bachelor Party".
Disclaimer: Some dialogue nicked directly from "Bachelor Party" and "Hero" although I tried to keep that to a bare minimum. Characters nicked from Mutant Enemy, but it's not like they were in use when I snatched them. They were just lying around ...
A/N: This was written for the Doyle/Cordelia ficathon, for meggygurl. Er, sorry if it's a wee bit late. Thanks to teza for the last-minute beta, too. I am teh suck at titles and summaries, apologies for that too. And also for the fact that despite my own shippage tendencies this is my first fic in this arena.
"*You* shouldn't be trying to eat my friend’s brains!" Cordelia declared in tones of imperious outrage. "You horrible ugly demon people!" He saw her gaze rest on him in fury. She dove for a silver tray and started banging him on the head with it. For the barest instant, he couldn't figure out what in the world she was doing.
"Cordy!" he yelped.
She froze as the familiar sound reached her ears. The fury washed out of her face as her gaze flicked from his demon face to the clothes he wore and back up again."*Doyle*?"
Seeing is believing, Doyle thought grimly.
He thought he'd have a chance to explain. He knew he couldn't keep it a secret from her forever, objectively, but somehow he'd hoped he wouldn't have to be there when he told her about it. And he certainly hadn't wanted her to find out this way.
I wonder what else can go wrong tonight....
She didn't look disgusted. She looked shocked. The disgust, he expected, would filter in later.
He hadn't meant to let it slip. Less than a second, it had taken to blow his cover. It was just that it was hard not to cry out when anybody, even the girl of your dreams, was flying at your head with a tray. It was just rotten luck that she knew him well enough to recognize his voice when he called her name.
The silver tray slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground. Angel had tried to stop her. The words had died on his lips. He let his features phase from demonic to human, and chewed on his lower lip. As the adrenaline rush started to let him down he felt his heart wrenched in two ways. Harry, I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to ruin everything for you ... Cordy, I'm sorry, Cordy, I didn't mean to lie to you. Except that he had meant to. To protect himself. Of course. Doyle couldn't come up with a thing to say. He just stood there, looking at her and hating himself.
Harry had taken control of the situation. He vaguely registered that she was telling off her ex-fiance for trying to eat his brains. He became more aware of what was going on as it became plain how very ex the ex-fiance was; the engagement ring slid off Harry's finger, and she turned away.
Doyle opened his mouth, unsure even as he did so what was going to come out of it.
"One word, Francis, and *I'll* eat your brains," Harry said firmly. She swept past him and out the door.
Cordelia blinked. She looked at Doyle. Then she looked at Angel. Then she shook her head and breezed past them.
Angel took Doyle by the elbow and practically pulled him after them. "You'd better go talk to her," Angel said, as they watched the girls stalking off into the night.
Doyle nodded. "Yeah," he said.
"I'll take care of Cordelia," Angel said.
Doyle blinked, and answered, "Oh. Right. Yeah."
***
"Harry, I'm -"
"It's for the best, Francis. Don't you dare apologize to me," Harry said, her voice deceptively mild. "I can't *believe* ... rrgh!" She shook her head, then made an exasperated motion with her hands. "It's not even anything personal. He *lied* to me. And ... well."
Doyle winced. Harry's righteous indignation at the deception mirrored something he rather suspected was going on in another female mind, except not about the eating of brains.
Harry folded her arms over her chest, hunching her shoulders in a way that made her seem strangely vulnerable. "So," she said, "what now?"
Doyle hesitated. "I don't know," he said. "I guess you'll find another boyfriend." He felt the ghost of a smile flicker across his mouth. "Probably one without such conflicting religious beliefs."
Harry sighed. "What about you?"
"What about me? That's over, that's done, we both know that," Doyle said. He shrugged, trying to take the coldness out of the words, but it was much too late for that.
Harry started to answer, then stopped. "I wasn't expecting it to be this hard," she said.
Doyle stopped himself from flippancy. "I ... know what you mean."
"I thought I'd ... moved on. You know," Harry said. "Completely."
"Me, too," Doyle answered.
"I guess I never will, completely. Some part of me will always ..."
Doyle interrupted. "Please, Harry. Don't say it." He hugged her, held her close. It felt both very wrong and very right. He heard her sniffle in his arms, and stroked her hair. When they separated, it was not without awkwardness.
"I guess this is good-bye," Harry said. "Again."
Doyle nodded. "Guess so," he said. "We're not ... who we used to be."
"No, I guess we're not," Harry said, nodding. She hesitated. "We could -"
"I don't think that's a good idea," Doyle said.
"No, you're right. I shouldn't even ..."
"It's okay. It's just that ..."
"No, I know," Harry said firmly, laying her hand on his arm. "It's not just everything that's happened already. It's Cordelia, too."
Doyle suddenly felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi. "What?"
Harry looked wry. "She likes you, too. You should pursue that."
Doyle snorted. "Think I wrecked that tonight, love."
Harry raised her eyebrows at him. Her eyes were wet with suppressed tears, but she still managed to look like she was trying not to laugh at him. "Oh, Francis. I wouldn't be so sure if I were you."
***
"I mean, what was he *thinking*?" Cordelia demanded, whirling on Angel with fury in her face.
Angel looked uncomfortable. "Huh?"
He wondered how it was that he got into these situations. Cordelia had been sitting in sullen silence for almost fifteen minutes, staring at nothing, plainly working herself into fully-fledged wrath. He'd been watching it build up, wondering whether Doyle would show up to rescue him, hopefully with a convenient vision of something bad happening to someone somewhere, just so he could get out of this office before she started throwing things.
"Angel. You're a man," Cordelia said. "Therefore there must be some intrinsic knowledge of the workings of the male mind buried in your head somewhere, right?"
"Er ... maybe?" Angel said, a man who had no idea what the right answer to this question was. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder if she was going to search for this intrinsic knowledge by cutting his head open with an axe and poking around through the grey matter.
"So why would he do it? Why wouldn't he tell me about this? I mean, didn't he think it might be useful for me to know?" Cordelia demanded. "I mean, if he'd said something, I would have been able to - I don't know, there's been so many conversations and he's always talking about demons - and - and - he must think I hate him now!"
Angel was confused.
"And I *do*," Cordelia said. "Because he's an *idiot*. A stupid, stupid, ... stupid one!"
As opposed to the intelligent kind, Angel thought, but he wisely chose not to voice this.
"Cordelia," Angel said.
"And you know what -" Cordelia stopped, mid-rant. "What?"
"Why would he tell you?" Angel asked.
"Why wouldn't he?" Cordelia demanded. "I mean, why would I care about that! I work for a vampire for heaven's sake! What does he think I'm going to do - reject him *more* for being a half-demon loser than I did when he was just a loser?"
"Well ..."
"He knows everything about *me*!" Cordelia said. "And just when I was starting to - well, he should have said something! I have the right to know."
Angel shrugged. "Doyle's a good guy. He just ... he was going to tell you in his own time."
"Huh!" Cordelia said. "I'm going home."
***
The office door opened. Doyle sidled in. Cordelia decided she was going to ignore him, as punishment both for deceiving her about his species and for showing up an hour late, but it wasn't a decision that lasted very long.
"Hi," he said. "Um, sorry I'm late. I had a run-in with a malicious, um, demon." He rubbed his temples. He looked hung-over, or at the very least, miserable.
"Was this demon made of whiskey?" Cordelia asked.
"There may have been a certain whiskeyish quality to it, yeah," Doyle said, wincing.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Anyway, hung-over or not, I'm not speaking to you!"
"Uh, yeah." Doyle grimaced. "Um, Cordy, about last night ..."
"Not with the speaking!" Cordelia interrupted, holding up her hand.
"I meant to tell you," Doyle said. "It's just - I was af ... I didn't want you to ..."
"Oh, please!" Cordelia said. "Did you really think I was going to *care* whether you're a demon or not? Note the vampiric nature of my employer! I grew up in Sunnydale! On top of a hellmouth! Okay? Demons, vampires, whatever!"
Doyle was silent for a moment. He opened his mouth.
"And I'm not speaking to you," Cordelia finished venomously. She turned her attention to the monitor and got back to work.
"Cordelia," Doyle said. "Can you be speaking to me again? Just as coworkers?"
Cordelia sighed. "What do you want?"
"I'd like to talk to you. When do you take your lunch break?" Doyle asked.
"How is that just as coworkers?" Cordelia demanded.
Doyle smiled impishly at her, hope in his eyes. "Hey, coworkers say that."
She glanced at her watch. It was 10:21. "In about two hours," she said.
Doyle fell silent and let her work for awhile, although whenever she glanced up from the keyboard he was watching her. Finally she said, "What?"
"Can I talk to you now?" he asked.
"Fine," Cordelia said. "Just stop - hovering like that."
Doyle looked nonplused. "What'd I do?"
"You hovered! Are continuing to hover! Never mind." She shook her head and got out of her office chair, thus eliminating or at least mitigating Doyle's nervous hovering on the other side of the desk. "So talk."
"I wanted to tell you. I was afraid that if you knew I was a demon, you'd reject me." He hesitated, as she rolled her eyes at him. "I ... see that I was wrong."
"I rejected you loads of times before I ever knew you were half-demon!" Cordelia pointed out. "Big *deal*, Doyle!"
"Then ... why are you so angry?" Doyle asked.
"You just should have told me," Cordelia said. "*And* you were late." She raised her eyebrows pointedly at him.
Doyle blinked. "I ... I was late?"
"Yes," Cordelia said simply. "Late! An hour late! I was starting to wonder if you were going to grace us with your presence at *all*."
Doyle stared at her. "Me being late and me being half-demon are equal factors in you being angry?"
"No!" Cordelia said. "Why would I be angry at you for being half-demon? It was the hiding it part."
"Oh. But still ...?"
"I'd say at this point a bit more the late," Cordelia said. "This job is *boring* when nothing horrible is happening to people, you know?"
Doyle just looked at her.
"*Have* I grown a second head?" she asked tartly.
"No, definitely just the one," Doyle answered. Hope was beginning to dawn in his eyes again.
"Do you have any *other* secrets that I should know about?" she demanded.
"No, no, that's about it," Doyle said. "Me being half-demon seemed like a big enough thing to worry about hiding."
"Good," Cordelia said. "That's out. It's done." She took a deep breath, expectant. When he didn't say anything else, she said, "Well? Would you ask me out to dinner already?"
"Yeah?" Doyle said, his face lighting.
She couldn't help smiling at the look on his face. She nodded.
"Cordelia, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"
"Pick me up at seven," she directed, and grinned at him. "Was that so hard?"
He chuckled softly, looking strangely surprised. "You have no idea."
Author: bethos (Bethos)
Pairing: Doyle/Cordelia
Rating: G (PG? Probably G.)
Summary: A tiny error brings certain things to light sooner than they would have normally progressed. (Spoilers for "Bachelor Party".
Disclaimer: Some dialogue nicked directly from "Bachelor Party" and "Hero" although I tried to keep that to a bare minimum. Characters nicked from Mutant Enemy, but it's not like they were in use when I snatched them. They were just lying around ...
A/N: This was written for the Doyle/Cordelia ficathon, for meggygurl. Er, sorry if it's a wee bit late. Thanks to teza for the last-minute beta, too. I am teh suck at titles and summaries, apologies for that too. And also for the fact that despite my own shippage tendencies this is my first fic in this arena.
"*You* shouldn't be trying to eat my friend’s brains!" Cordelia declared in tones of imperious outrage. "You horrible ugly demon people!" He saw her gaze rest on him in fury. She dove for a silver tray and started banging him on the head with it. For the barest instant, he couldn't figure out what in the world she was doing.
"Cordy!" he yelped.
She froze as the familiar sound reached her ears. The fury washed out of her face as her gaze flicked from his demon face to the clothes he wore and back up again."*Doyle*?"
Seeing is believing, Doyle thought grimly.
He thought he'd have a chance to explain. He knew he couldn't keep it a secret from her forever, objectively, but somehow he'd hoped he wouldn't have to be there when he told her about it. And he certainly hadn't wanted her to find out this way.
I wonder what else can go wrong tonight....
She didn't look disgusted. She looked shocked. The disgust, he expected, would filter in later.
He hadn't meant to let it slip. Less than a second, it had taken to blow his cover. It was just that it was hard not to cry out when anybody, even the girl of your dreams, was flying at your head with a tray. It was just rotten luck that she knew him well enough to recognize his voice when he called her name.
The silver tray slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground. Angel had tried to stop her. The words had died on his lips. He let his features phase from demonic to human, and chewed on his lower lip. As the adrenaline rush started to let him down he felt his heart wrenched in two ways. Harry, I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to ruin everything for you ... Cordy, I'm sorry, Cordy, I didn't mean to lie to you. Except that he had meant to. To protect himself. Of course. Doyle couldn't come up with a thing to say. He just stood there, looking at her and hating himself.
Harry had taken control of the situation. He vaguely registered that she was telling off her ex-fiance for trying to eat his brains. He became more aware of what was going on as it became plain how very ex the ex-fiance was; the engagement ring slid off Harry's finger, and she turned away.
Doyle opened his mouth, unsure even as he did so what was going to come out of it.
"One word, Francis, and *I'll* eat your brains," Harry said firmly. She swept past him and out the door.
Cordelia blinked. She looked at Doyle. Then she looked at Angel. Then she shook her head and breezed past them.
Angel took Doyle by the elbow and practically pulled him after them. "You'd better go talk to her," Angel said, as they watched the girls stalking off into the night.
Doyle nodded. "Yeah," he said.
"I'll take care of Cordelia," Angel said.
Doyle blinked, and answered, "Oh. Right. Yeah."
***
"Harry, I'm -"
"It's for the best, Francis. Don't you dare apologize to me," Harry said, her voice deceptively mild. "I can't *believe* ... rrgh!" She shook her head, then made an exasperated motion with her hands. "It's not even anything personal. He *lied* to me. And ... well."
Doyle winced. Harry's righteous indignation at the deception mirrored something he rather suspected was going on in another female mind, except not about the eating of brains.
Harry folded her arms over her chest, hunching her shoulders in a way that made her seem strangely vulnerable. "So," she said, "what now?"
Doyle hesitated. "I don't know," he said. "I guess you'll find another boyfriend." He felt the ghost of a smile flicker across his mouth. "Probably one without such conflicting religious beliefs."
Harry sighed. "What about you?"
"What about me? That's over, that's done, we both know that," Doyle said. He shrugged, trying to take the coldness out of the words, but it was much too late for that.
Harry started to answer, then stopped. "I wasn't expecting it to be this hard," she said.
Doyle stopped himself from flippancy. "I ... know what you mean."
"I thought I'd ... moved on. You know," Harry said. "Completely."
"Me, too," Doyle answered.
"I guess I never will, completely. Some part of me will always ..."
Doyle interrupted. "Please, Harry. Don't say it." He hugged her, held her close. It felt both very wrong and very right. He heard her sniffle in his arms, and stroked her hair. When they separated, it was not without awkwardness.
"I guess this is good-bye," Harry said. "Again."
Doyle nodded. "Guess so," he said. "We're not ... who we used to be."
"No, I guess we're not," Harry said, nodding. She hesitated. "We could -"
"I don't think that's a good idea," Doyle said.
"No, you're right. I shouldn't even ..."
"It's okay. It's just that ..."
"No, I know," Harry said firmly, laying her hand on his arm. "It's not just everything that's happened already. It's Cordelia, too."
Doyle suddenly felt like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi. "What?"
Harry looked wry. "She likes you, too. You should pursue that."
Doyle snorted. "Think I wrecked that tonight, love."
Harry raised her eyebrows at him. Her eyes were wet with suppressed tears, but she still managed to look like she was trying not to laugh at him. "Oh, Francis. I wouldn't be so sure if I were you."
***
"I mean, what was he *thinking*?" Cordelia demanded, whirling on Angel with fury in her face.
Angel looked uncomfortable. "Huh?"
He wondered how it was that he got into these situations. Cordelia had been sitting in sullen silence for almost fifteen minutes, staring at nothing, plainly working herself into fully-fledged wrath. He'd been watching it build up, wondering whether Doyle would show up to rescue him, hopefully with a convenient vision of something bad happening to someone somewhere, just so he could get out of this office before she started throwing things.
"Angel. You're a man," Cordelia said. "Therefore there must be some intrinsic knowledge of the workings of the male mind buried in your head somewhere, right?"
"Er ... maybe?" Angel said, a man who had no idea what the right answer to this question was. It suddenly occurred to him to wonder if she was going to search for this intrinsic knowledge by cutting his head open with an axe and poking around through the grey matter.
"So why would he do it? Why wouldn't he tell me about this? I mean, didn't he think it might be useful for me to know?" Cordelia demanded. "I mean, if he'd said something, I would have been able to - I don't know, there's been so many conversations and he's always talking about demons - and - and - he must think I hate him now!"
Angel was confused.
"And I *do*," Cordelia said. "Because he's an *idiot*. A stupid, stupid, ... stupid one!"
As opposed to the intelligent kind, Angel thought, but he wisely chose not to voice this.
"Cordelia," Angel said.
"And you know what -" Cordelia stopped, mid-rant. "What?"
"Why would he tell you?" Angel asked.
"Why wouldn't he?" Cordelia demanded. "I mean, why would I care about that! I work for a vampire for heaven's sake! What does he think I'm going to do - reject him *more* for being a half-demon loser than I did when he was just a loser?"
"Well ..."
"He knows everything about *me*!" Cordelia said. "And just when I was starting to - well, he should have said something! I have the right to know."
Angel shrugged. "Doyle's a good guy. He just ... he was going to tell you in his own time."
"Huh!" Cordelia said. "I'm going home."
***
The office door opened. Doyle sidled in. Cordelia decided she was going to ignore him, as punishment both for deceiving her about his species and for showing up an hour late, but it wasn't a decision that lasted very long.
"Hi," he said. "Um, sorry I'm late. I had a run-in with a malicious, um, demon." He rubbed his temples. He looked hung-over, or at the very least, miserable.
"Was this demon made of whiskey?" Cordelia asked.
"There may have been a certain whiskeyish quality to it, yeah," Doyle said, wincing.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Anyway, hung-over or not, I'm not speaking to you!"
"Uh, yeah." Doyle grimaced. "Um, Cordy, about last night ..."
"Not with the speaking!" Cordelia interrupted, holding up her hand.
"I meant to tell you," Doyle said. "It's just - I was af ... I didn't want you to ..."
"Oh, please!" Cordelia said. "Did you really think I was going to *care* whether you're a demon or not? Note the vampiric nature of my employer! I grew up in Sunnydale! On top of a hellmouth! Okay? Demons, vampires, whatever!"
Doyle was silent for a moment. He opened his mouth.
"And I'm not speaking to you," Cordelia finished venomously. She turned her attention to the monitor and got back to work.
"Cordelia," Doyle said. "Can you be speaking to me again? Just as coworkers?"
Cordelia sighed. "What do you want?"
"I'd like to talk to you. When do you take your lunch break?" Doyle asked.
"How is that just as coworkers?" Cordelia demanded.
Doyle smiled impishly at her, hope in his eyes. "Hey, coworkers say that."
She glanced at her watch. It was 10:21. "In about two hours," she said.
Doyle fell silent and let her work for awhile, although whenever she glanced up from the keyboard he was watching her. Finally she said, "What?"
"Can I talk to you now?" he asked.
"Fine," Cordelia said. "Just stop - hovering like that."
Doyle looked nonplused. "What'd I do?"
"You hovered! Are continuing to hover! Never mind." She shook her head and got out of her office chair, thus eliminating or at least mitigating Doyle's nervous hovering on the other side of the desk. "So talk."
"I wanted to tell you. I was afraid that if you knew I was a demon, you'd reject me." He hesitated, as she rolled her eyes at him. "I ... see that I was wrong."
"I rejected you loads of times before I ever knew you were half-demon!" Cordelia pointed out. "Big *deal*, Doyle!"
"Then ... why are you so angry?" Doyle asked.
"You just should have told me," Cordelia said. "*And* you were late." She raised her eyebrows pointedly at him.
Doyle blinked. "I ... I was late?"
"Yes," Cordelia said simply. "Late! An hour late! I was starting to wonder if you were going to grace us with your presence at *all*."
Doyle stared at her. "Me being late and me being half-demon are equal factors in you being angry?"
"No!" Cordelia said. "Why would I be angry at you for being half-demon? It was the hiding it part."
"Oh. But still ...?"
"I'd say at this point a bit more the late," Cordelia said. "This job is *boring* when nothing horrible is happening to people, you know?"
Doyle just looked at her.
"*Have* I grown a second head?" she asked tartly.
"No, definitely just the one," Doyle answered. Hope was beginning to dawn in his eyes again.
"Do you have any *other* secrets that I should know about?" she demanded.
"No, no, that's about it," Doyle said. "Me being half-demon seemed like a big enough thing to worry about hiding."
"Good," Cordelia said. "That's out. It's done." She took a deep breath, expectant. When he didn't say anything else, she said, "Well? Would you ask me out to dinner already?"
"Yeah?" Doyle said, his face lighting.
She couldn't help smiling at the look on his face. She nodded.
"Cordelia, would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"
"Pick me up at seven," she directed, and grinned at him. "Was that so hard?"
He chuckled softly, looking strangely surprised. "You have no idea."