(Untitled)

[surgeonofmean]

Continued from here
"I remember," she said automatically, a sad sort of smile curving her mouth as she remembered the first time she'd said that to him. And then: "I'm the one who said it, so yeah, I definitely remember. I haven't exactly gone senile just yet, Doyle

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[justdoyle]

"It was good whiskey," Doyle said, gazing off for a moment. Still, he had a bottle of Glenmorangie right in his hands. He wasn't complaining.

He looked back at Cordy again, pretty sure he couldn't do any worse now if he just came out and said it. Whatever it was, anyway - he wasn't sure yet beyond pointing out what had happened and what he hoped would continue to happen.

"You forgot the part where we kissed," Doyle pointed out almost helpfully, although he was pretty much terrified. Didn't matter what he told himself or how he thought Cordy was going to act, actually doing something was always the hardest part. "And the part where I want it to happen again."

[surgeonofmean]

Actually, she hadn't. Ho, boy, how she hadn't. But, yeah. She'd kinda been hoping that Doyle would have forgotten about it, been too knackered off his potato or whatever weird expression the Irish used to say they were rip-roaring drunk skunks. On the other hand, though, she kinda had been hoping that he hadn't forgotten about it. Life was way too complicated to make sense, and Cordelia laughed mockingly in the face of anything resembling s-e-n-s-e or l-o-g-i-c.

The part where Doyle wanted it to happen again? SO not news. That film had already ran at 11 months and months and months ago, but she didn't even feel the urge to point that out.

Something was clearly wrong with her.

There she was, clutching Angela's Ashes like a baby-man-in-training actually wanting the happen again thing to, well, happen again. Because the last time (oh, okay -- times; the hurricane near-death thing counted, totally) they'd done the kissing thing, it had been very nice, much nicer than the 'goodbye, good riddance, see you in another lifetime and

[justdoyle]

Doyle frowned at Cordy curiously for a second, wondering just what she was getting at before it actually clicked. It was kind of hard not to grin like a fool after that, and he'd say he was having deja vu if he wasn't thinking about the last time they'd had an almost similar conversation. Well, not the conversation, exactly - Cordy had a mean slap and Doyle chose not to be put in a position for that to happen ever again - but the end result. Story of his life that she was the one who made things move forward at the right moment

[surgeonofmean]

"I know," Cordelia said rather matter-of-factly, and a bit 'duh' to boot. Doyle, good old reliable predictable pining Doyle. He couldn't have been more obvious all these months unless he'd, like, tattooed his intentions all over his body and fashioned a conch shell into a bull horn so he could profess his desire to date her.

Cordelia made a mental note to actually not say that, as the last thing she needed was Doyle playing Irish Music Man and getting everyone (i.e. that rat bastard Josh Lyman's) attention to air her business in public. Really, there was no telling what sort of stuff Doyle could pull when hammered and she would take no risks.

She was smart that way.

"It does," she said, softer somehow this time around. "But now nothing has to get old, right? Except for Angel's island-made hair products, because they're just NASTY."

[justdoyle]

Doyle dropped his head, letting out a bit of relieved laughter. Well, he would have laughed anyway because that was completely true, but it was also relief and ten million other things about the moment that he knew he wasn't going to get rid of so easily. He didn't think he wanted to, either.

He sat back again, giving Cordy half a smile. "I never did get to ask you out."

[surgeonofmean]

Cordelia tilted her head to one side, regarding Doyle thoughtfully.

"No," she said. "You didn't. Because Angel showed up and then the Scourge and then there was that whole light-beacon-deathray thing and THEN there was that thing were you went all John Wayne-Vampire Slugger and Noble Heroic and you left me."

Setting her book down, Cordelia scooted closer to Doyle, eyeing him seriously. "Don't ever leave me again. And are you gonna ask me out or what already?"

[justdoyle]

As far as Doyle was concerned, reminders of that night were never not going to hurt, and while he was sure he'd do it all over again if he had to, he wanted to do something to make it up for Cordy. Anything, really.

Still, Doyle was glad for a chance to at least make up part of that night, and he was pretty sure Angel wasn't going to show up and ruin the moment again. He took a quick look around the area once, though. Just to be sure fate wasn't going to kick him in the balls again.

"Cordelia," he said, and he could remember exactly what he wanted to say that night, six words that meant more than they might have at any other time with any other couple who didn't have the kind of past they did. "Will you go out with me?"

[surgeonofmean]

Cordelia stared at Doyle, letting those words soak in and trying not to think about the time when he should have gotten the chance to ask her. No use in dwelling on the past; they couldn't change it. Unless, well, one of them was some sort of fugly time-changy demon, and Cordelia knew Doyle hadn't been that kind. And the day Cordelia Chase was a demon in any way, shape, or form was the day Xander Harris did something non-stupid to save the world. See? never meant to happen.

"Of course I will. Duh," Cordelia said, and then she took up Angela's Ashes and thwapped Doyle on the shoulder with the novel for good measure. "Took you long enough, didn't it?"

[justdoyle]

"Oh come on!" Doyle laughed even has he gave Cordy a pained look. "That thing hurts more than you'd realize, you know," he added, grabbing the book back out of her hands just so she wouldn't cause any more damage to him - or dear old Frank.

He kept smiling, though, and shrugged at her question. He wasn't even exactly sure why he'd waited - probably some bastard mix of fear and letting her get over Sam, or whatever. The point was he'd done it, and the rest didn't really matter anymore. "Yeah, it did. What do you want to do, then? Or do I get to come up something on my own and surprise you?"

[surgeonofmean]

"Oh, don't be such a baby man," she chided, eyes largely rolling in her head. Cordelia didn't protest, though, when he took the book out of her hands. She just smiled instead, and the smile grew brighter the more Doyle smiled. He really was one of the good guys -- even if his fashion sense still screamed CarrotTop's Irish Cousin.

The smile softened after a bit, and she bumped a knee against one of Doyle's. "I think you just might have a few surprises up those polyester sleeves of yours."

[justdoyle]

"Hey now, I don't have that many polyester shirts," Doyle protested. It was more like those shirts were a bitch to wear in the island heat. He still didn't get how Angel managed black.

"I'll figure something out. Surprise the pants right off you," he said, and it felt like so many different times before back in L.A., only this time Doyle knew he could actually follow. He could afford to promise Cordy something nice - mostly because nice meant improv here, and that, Doyle could deal with.