Fic - (Love) In Its Sympathy
Jan. 9th, 2005 03:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wesleysgirlHere's the fic I wrote for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
doylesboy's Doyleathon II.
It's forwolfling, who asked for Angel/Doyle with no death or character bashing, and four requirements - AU post Hero where Doyle survived, Doyle's presence changing things, Angel admitting he needs Doyle, happy ending.
So. Angel/Doyle, PG-ish.
What I ended up writing is probably not what she was imagining, but I hope it suits. :-)
(Love) In Its Sympathy
by WesleysGirl
"Quiet," Doyle ordered. "All of you, just... shut your yaps." Sure, he knew he could have been more polite, but under the circumstances he just needed to be able to think of the right thing to say. "He's right, you know," he called to Angel. "None of this is real."
"Feels real enough to me," Angel said, moving across the dark room with every bit of the speed Doyle knew he was capable of.
"It isn't," Wesley said. "We don't wish to resort to drastic measures, but unless you listen, I warn you..."
"You're warning me?" Angel said, moving around closer to Wesley, while Doyle tried to figure out how the hell to be between Angel and all three of the others at the same time. "What happened, Wes? Did you suddenly grow a pair? Well, that's it, isn't it? I mean, that's the whole root of your inferiority complex. Well, good news, Wes, old boy! You don't really have an inferiority complex. You're just, simply, inferior."
The vampire darted forward and grabbed onto Wesley, picking him up and tossing him into a corner. He hit the bookshelf behind him hard and went down. Stayed down.
"Angel, listen to me. This isn't you," Doyle said, trying his best to ignore Rebecca's whimper of fear behind him. He could still smell blood on her.
"That's where you're wrong," Angel said, tilting his head back, the glint of his fangs like silver through Doyle's enhanced vision. "This is me. The real me."
"It's not!" Cordelia said, speaking up. "We know the real you. You're... you're..."
"'Line'?" Angel echoed, laughing. "'Of course, a time will come when Torvald is not as devoted to me'... you were really, let me tell you, bad."
"Stop it," Cordelia said sharply, but Doyle could hear her voice tremble.
Angel stepped to the side, and Doyle moved right along with him, staying in between him and Cordy. "Why? You didn't. I mean, I've been to hell, but that was so much worse!" He glanced toward Rebecca. "You had to be there. I mean, there wasn't a dry eye in the house, everybody was just laughing so hard." Turning his attention to Cordelia again, he added, "Here's a thought - maybe you can get Raven here to coach you, then you'd actually suck!"
There was a sound that Doyle couldn't identify until Cordelia stepped up beside him, brandishing her water bottle. "Back off!" she said.
Angel laughed. "What are you going to do? Melt me?"
"One more step and you'll find out. You think this is just water?" Cordelia asked.
"You're bluffing," Angel said.
"You really want to find out?" Doyle asked, moving in front of Cordy again, which just put him that much closer to Angel. "Come on, Angel. I know you're in there. Think."
For just a second, the hard edge in Angel's eyes softened, and Doyle thought he'd managed to talk some sense back into him. But it was only for that second - then Angel laughed and grabbed onto Doyle's shirt front, dragging him forward. "You telling me to think? That's a laugh."
Doyle could smell Angel's breath, cool and sickly with blood, as the vampire pulled him in closer. "I don't hear you laughing."
"Maybe you're not listening hard enough," Angel growled, shaking him.
"Maybe you aren't," Doyle said, and lifted his fist and punched Angel right in the nose as hard as he could, feeling the crunch of bones in either Angel's face or his own hand - he couldn't tell which, not with the adrenaline that was surging through him.
Angel loosened his hold just enough, staggered back a half step, and Doyle shoved him, hard, then watched as Angel teetered on the edge of the elevator shaft for just a second or two before losing his balance and falling. The sound as he crashed down onto the roof of the elevator was more of a thud than anything else.
"Oh my God," Rebecca said.
Doyle and Cordelia peered down into the shaft at the same time, to see Angel lying there, apparently unconscious.
"Sorry, man," Doyle muttered.
* * *
Angel came back to consciousness fast - one second he was out, the next his eyes were open. Everything was too bright, too sharp around the edges, and he groaned and blinked, trying to lift his hand up to his face and coming up short. Really short. He couldn't even move.
He glanced down at the chains that were restraining him, then looked over to where Cordelia and Wesley were sitting side by side, and then to where Doyle was leaning against the wall.
"Are you still evil?" Cordelia asked.
"Oh God," Angel said, closing his eyes as memory flooded back, feeling the ache in his face where Doyle had hit him. "I am so, so sorry."
"Can I get another reading on that line, please?" Cordelia sounded snippy, not that be blamed her.
"Rebecca. Is she..."
"Gone." Cordelia said. "Oh, and no, she won't be keeping you on retainer as her bodyguard. I think it was the trying to murder her that lost you the gig."
"I need to apologize to all of you," Angel said, looking from Cordelia to Wesley to Doyle.
"There's really no need," Wesley said.
"Uh, hello?" Cordelia said, giving Wesley a look of surprise.
"It was the drugs," Wesley said. "It couldn't be helped. Things were said, it's true, but - I think it best if we simply put it behind us." He stood up. "Move on."
"Thank you," Angel said. He couldn't help but notice that Doyle still hadn't said anything.
Wesley started to leave the room, but he hesitated. "You walk a fine line, Angel... I don't envy you." He nodded, then turned and continued through the doorway.
"Okay," Cordelia said, "Here is something I never thought I would say to you: Wesley's right. Forget about it."
"But I really didn't mean - "
"Yes, you did. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to weasel out of it." She stood up. "Angelus may not be the most relaxing company, but at least he's honest. Shouldn't I expect the same from the not-evil version of my friends?"
"So... we're okay, then?" Angel asked.
"I'm too big of a person to let something so petty get in the way of our friendship," Cordelia said. She smiled at Doyle before she left the room, too.
Angel looked over and met Doyle's eyes. He couldn't help but think that he was lucky there'd been at least one person spared Angelus' cruel words - no matter what Wesley and Cordelia said, he knew that what had happened would affect how things were between them, for a while, at least. "You're going to let me up, right?" he asked hopefully.
"Yeah," Doyle said, even though he didn't move. "Figured I'd give them a minute to get some distance between you and them, you know?"
"Yeah. I know." Angel felt sick when he thought about it.
"Hey," Doyle said. "Don't start doing that."
"Doing what?" Angel asked.
"That," Doyle said. "Thinking about all the things that could have happened."
"Aren't you?" Angel figured they all had to be.
Doyle straightened up, grabbed the chair Wesley had been sitting on, spun it around, and sat down on it like that, backwards. "No. And you shouldn't, either."
"Kind of hard not to," Angel told him.
"You do a lot of things that are hard," Doyle said. "I've got faith in you - you can do this, too."
"You really do, didn't you?" Angel asked. "Have faith in me, I mean. Even when I was - when he was - " It was too hard to put any of it into words, because there were things he didn't want to admit, even to himself. His gaze fell on Doyle's bandage-wrapped hand.
Doyle saw him looking and shrugged. "So it wasn't you whose nose I broke, is that what you're telling me? Because that bruise on your face says otherwise."
He should have known better than to think Doyle would let him fool anyone, even himself. "Let me up."
There was a moment's hesitation, and then Doyle nodded and stood up, producing a key from his pocket and moving to the foot of the bed to undo the locks. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you're off the hook," Doyle said casually.
"I thought you wanted me off the hook," Angel said. "I thought you didn't want me... brooding. Or whatever."
"I don't," Doyle said, untwisting the chain. "But that doesn't mean I'm gonna let you pretend none of this happened. Wouldn't be much of a friend if I did that, would I?"
Angel closed his eyes when Doyle started on the next set of locks. He didn't really want to get into what kind of a friend Doyle was, not now. "So what exactly am I supposed to do?" He could feel Doyle's fingers brush against his wrist, and the rough scratch of the bandage.
"Just... be realistic. Don't deny what happened, but don't let it paralyze you."
"But there's - "
"And don't spend lots of time thinking about what might-have-been. That'll just make you crazy," Doyle said.
There were moments when Angel thought he might already be. Eyes still closed, he started, "But I - " He didn't get any further than that, though, because the next thing he knew, there was a warm, dry mouth pressed firmly to his in a kiss that he couldn't quite stop himself from returning.
He opened his eyes, startled, as Doyle drew back.
"Sorry," Doyle muttered, undoing the last lock. "Seemed like the best way to shut you up."
It seemed to have worked - Angel had no idea what to say. He just waited for Doyle to finish freeing him, then sat up. "It's okay," he said. "You don't have to apologize - not for that."
"I don't know what got into me," Doyle said, rubbing his good hand over the back of his neck, looking down at the floor.
"You never thought about doing that before?" Angel asked.
"Thinking and doing are two entirely different things," Doyle said. He fiddled with a length of chain.
"Yeah, I know. That's not what I asked." Angel reached out and took the chain away, noting that Doyle didn't flinch when he did it. "So... can I take it from your silence that you did?"
"Think about it? Yeah. Not like I'd just do something like that out of the blue," Doyle said. He looked up and met Angel's gaze, his green eyes troubled. "Let it go, Angel."
"I'll let the other stuff go," Angel said, setting the chain down on the floor with a metallic clatter and reaching out again, this time for Doyle's unbandaged hand. "But not this. You're... Doyle, I need you."
Doyle hesitated, then nodded brusquely. "Okay. I get what you're saying." Angel could almost feel him closing in on himself, putting up a wall.
"No," Angel told him. "I don't think you do. I'm saying... we can't leave something like this between us, not when..." He tugged on Doyle's hand until Doyle came closer, shins pressed to Angel's knees. "C'mere," Angel said, and Doyle bent down and kissed him again.
This time, maybe because he was ready for it, it was even better. Soft, unsure, but with the heat of desire behind it.
"There," Angel said, when Doyle finally straightened up again. "Now it's something we did together."
And Doyle smiled, touching Angel's face lightly. He'd almost forgotten about his nose until then. "This'll be healed by morning, won't it."
"Yeah." Angel took Doyle's injured hand between both of his own, gently. "Something else we did together. Is it broken?"
"Nah." Doyle glanced up in time to catch Angel looking at him doubtfully, and shrugged. "Okay, maybe. But it's not bad. It'll heal. Not as fast as yours, but..."
"Thanks," Angel said, before any more time could pass, before the opportunity to say it and have it really mean something had passed. "For... well. Nice moves up there." He gestured toward the ceiling.
Doyle took his hand back, nodding. "Any time." He took a step backward, toward the door. "If you're gonna be okay, I think I'm gonna go. Get some sleep."
Angel nodded, too. "Yeah."
It wasn't until he was in the doorway that Doyle hesitated, turning to look back over his shoulder at Angel. "See you tomorrow," he said.
Feeling a twinge of hope and what might have been happiness - just a twinge, not enough to scare him - Angel smiled. "See you tomorrow."
End
The title comes from Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights":
ETA - Thanks tosam_gamgee for the proofread!
doylesboy's Doyleathon II. It's for
wolfling, who asked for Angel/Doyle with no death or character bashing, and four requirements - AU post Hero where Doyle survived, Doyle's presence changing things, Angel admitting he needs Doyle, happy ending.So. Angel/Doyle, PG-ish.
What I ended up writing is probably not what she was imagining, but I hope it suits. :-)
(Love) In Its Sympathy
by WesleysGirl
"Quiet," Doyle ordered. "All of you, just... shut your yaps." Sure, he knew he could have been more polite, but under the circumstances he just needed to be able to think of the right thing to say. "He's right, you know," he called to Angel. "None of this is real."
"Feels real enough to me," Angel said, moving across the dark room with every bit of the speed Doyle knew he was capable of.
"It isn't," Wesley said. "We don't wish to resort to drastic measures, but unless you listen, I warn you..."
"You're warning me?" Angel said, moving around closer to Wesley, while Doyle tried to figure out how the hell to be between Angel and all three of the others at the same time. "What happened, Wes? Did you suddenly grow a pair? Well, that's it, isn't it? I mean, that's the whole root of your inferiority complex. Well, good news, Wes, old boy! You don't really have an inferiority complex. You're just, simply, inferior."
The vampire darted forward and grabbed onto Wesley, picking him up and tossing him into a corner. He hit the bookshelf behind him hard and went down. Stayed down.
"Angel, listen to me. This isn't you," Doyle said, trying his best to ignore Rebecca's whimper of fear behind him. He could still smell blood on her.
"That's where you're wrong," Angel said, tilting his head back, the glint of his fangs like silver through Doyle's enhanced vision. "This is me. The real me."
"It's not!" Cordelia said, speaking up. "We know the real you. You're... you're..."
"'Line'?" Angel echoed, laughing. "'Of course, a time will come when Torvald is not as devoted to me'... you were really, let me tell you, bad."
"Stop it," Cordelia said sharply, but Doyle could hear her voice tremble.
Angel stepped to the side, and Doyle moved right along with him, staying in between him and Cordy. "Why? You didn't. I mean, I've been to hell, but that was so much worse!" He glanced toward Rebecca. "You had to be there. I mean, there wasn't a dry eye in the house, everybody was just laughing so hard." Turning his attention to Cordelia again, he added, "Here's a thought - maybe you can get Raven here to coach you, then you'd actually suck!"
There was a sound that Doyle couldn't identify until Cordelia stepped up beside him, brandishing her water bottle. "Back off!" she said.
Angel laughed. "What are you going to do? Melt me?"
"One more step and you'll find out. You think this is just water?" Cordelia asked.
"You're bluffing," Angel said.
"You really want to find out?" Doyle asked, moving in front of Cordy again, which just put him that much closer to Angel. "Come on, Angel. I know you're in there. Think."
For just a second, the hard edge in Angel's eyes softened, and Doyle thought he'd managed to talk some sense back into him. But it was only for that second - then Angel laughed and grabbed onto Doyle's shirt front, dragging him forward. "You telling me to think? That's a laugh."
Doyle could smell Angel's breath, cool and sickly with blood, as the vampire pulled him in closer. "I don't hear you laughing."
"Maybe you're not listening hard enough," Angel growled, shaking him.
"Maybe you aren't," Doyle said, and lifted his fist and punched Angel right in the nose as hard as he could, feeling the crunch of bones in either Angel's face or his own hand - he couldn't tell which, not with the adrenaline that was surging through him.
Angel loosened his hold just enough, staggered back a half step, and Doyle shoved him, hard, then watched as Angel teetered on the edge of the elevator shaft for just a second or two before losing his balance and falling. The sound as he crashed down onto the roof of the elevator was more of a thud than anything else.
"Oh my God," Rebecca said.
Doyle and Cordelia peered down into the shaft at the same time, to see Angel lying there, apparently unconscious.
"Sorry, man," Doyle muttered.
Angel came back to consciousness fast - one second he was out, the next his eyes were open. Everything was too bright, too sharp around the edges, and he groaned and blinked, trying to lift his hand up to his face and coming up short. Really short. He couldn't even move.
He glanced down at the chains that were restraining him, then looked over to where Cordelia and Wesley were sitting side by side, and then to where Doyle was leaning against the wall.
"Are you still evil?" Cordelia asked.
"Oh God," Angel said, closing his eyes as memory flooded back, feeling the ache in his face where Doyle had hit him. "I am so, so sorry."
"Can I get another reading on that line, please?" Cordelia sounded snippy, not that be blamed her.
"Rebecca. Is she..."
"Gone." Cordelia said. "Oh, and no, she won't be keeping you on retainer as her bodyguard. I think it was the trying to murder her that lost you the gig."
"I need to apologize to all of you," Angel said, looking from Cordelia to Wesley to Doyle.
"There's really no need," Wesley said.
"Uh, hello?" Cordelia said, giving Wesley a look of surprise.
"It was the drugs," Wesley said. "It couldn't be helped. Things were said, it's true, but - I think it best if we simply put it behind us." He stood up. "Move on."
"Thank you," Angel said. He couldn't help but notice that Doyle still hadn't said anything.
Wesley started to leave the room, but he hesitated. "You walk a fine line, Angel... I don't envy you." He nodded, then turned and continued through the doorway.
"Okay," Cordelia said, "Here is something I never thought I would say to you: Wesley's right. Forget about it."
"But I really didn't mean - "
"Yes, you did. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't try to weasel out of it." She stood up. "Angelus may not be the most relaxing company, but at least he's honest. Shouldn't I expect the same from the not-evil version of my friends?"
"So... we're okay, then?" Angel asked.
"I'm too big of a person to let something so petty get in the way of our friendship," Cordelia said. She smiled at Doyle before she left the room, too.
Angel looked over and met Doyle's eyes. He couldn't help but think that he was lucky there'd been at least one person spared Angelus' cruel words - no matter what Wesley and Cordelia said, he knew that what had happened would affect how things were between them, for a while, at least. "You're going to let me up, right?" he asked hopefully.
"Yeah," Doyle said, even though he didn't move. "Figured I'd give them a minute to get some distance between you and them, you know?"
"Yeah. I know." Angel felt sick when he thought about it.
"Hey," Doyle said. "Don't start doing that."
"Doing what?" Angel asked.
"That," Doyle said. "Thinking about all the things that could have happened."
"Aren't you?" Angel figured they all had to be.
Doyle straightened up, grabbed the chair Wesley had been sitting on, spun it around, and sat down on it like that, backwards. "No. And you shouldn't, either."
"Kind of hard not to," Angel told him.
"You do a lot of things that are hard," Doyle said. "I've got faith in you - you can do this, too."
"You really do, didn't you?" Angel asked. "Have faith in me, I mean. Even when I was - when he was - " It was too hard to put any of it into words, because there were things he didn't want to admit, even to himself. His gaze fell on Doyle's bandage-wrapped hand.
Doyle saw him looking and shrugged. "So it wasn't you whose nose I broke, is that what you're telling me? Because that bruise on your face says otherwise."
He should have known better than to think Doyle would let him fool anyone, even himself. "Let me up."
There was a moment's hesitation, and then Doyle nodded and stood up, producing a key from his pocket and moving to the foot of the bed to undo the locks. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you're off the hook," Doyle said casually.
"I thought you wanted me off the hook," Angel said. "I thought you didn't want me... brooding. Or whatever."
"I don't," Doyle said, untwisting the chain. "But that doesn't mean I'm gonna let you pretend none of this happened. Wouldn't be much of a friend if I did that, would I?"
Angel closed his eyes when Doyle started on the next set of locks. He didn't really want to get into what kind of a friend Doyle was, not now. "So what exactly am I supposed to do?" He could feel Doyle's fingers brush against his wrist, and the rough scratch of the bandage.
"Just... be realistic. Don't deny what happened, but don't let it paralyze you."
"But there's - "
"And don't spend lots of time thinking about what might-have-been. That'll just make you crazy," Doyle said.
There were moments when Angel thought he might already be. Eyes still closed, he started, "But I - " He didn't get any further than that, though, because the next thing he knew, there was a warm, dry mouth pressed firmly to his in a kiss that he couldn't quite stop himself from returning.
He opened his eyes, startled, as Doyle drew back.
"Sorry," Doyle muttered, undoing the last lock. "Seemed like the best way to shut you up."
It seemed to have worked - Angel had no idea what to say. He just waited for Doyle to finish freeing him, then sat up. "It's okay," he said. "You don't have to apologize - not for that."
"I don't know what got into me," Doyle said, rubbing his good hand over the back of his neck, looking down at the floor.
"You never thought about doing that before?" Angel asked.
"Thinking and doing are two entirely different things," Doyle said. He fiddled with a length of chain.
"Yeah, I know. That's not what I asked." Angel reached out and took the chain away, noting that Doyle didn't flinch when he did it. "So... can I take it from your silence that you did?"
"Think about it? Yeah. Not like I'd just do something like that out of the blue," Doyle said. He looked up and met Angel's gaze, his green eyes troubled. "Let it go, Angel."
"I'll let the other stuff go," Angel said, setting the chain down on the floor with a metallic clatter and reaching out again, this time for Doyle's unbandaged hand. "But not this. You're... Doyle, I need you."
Doyle hesitated, then nodded brusquely. "Okay. I get what you're saying." Angel could almost feel him closing in on himself, putting up a wall.
"No," Angel told him. "I don't think you do. I'm saying... we can't leave something like this between us, not when..." He tugged on Doyle's hand until Doyle came closer, shins pressed to Angel's knees. "C'mere," Angel said, and Doyle bent down and kissed him again.
This time, maybe because he was ready for it, it was even better. Soft, unsure, but with the heat of desire behind it.
"There," Angel said, when Doyle finally straightened up again. "Now it's something we did together."
And Doyle smiled, touching Angel's face lightly. He'd almost forgotten about his nose until then. "This'll be healed by morning, won't it."
"Yeah." Angel took Doyle's injured hand between both of his own, gently. "Something else we did together. Is it broken?"
"Nah." Doyle glanced up in time to catch Angel looking at him doubtfully, and shrugged. "Okay, maybe. But it's not bad. It'll heal. Not as fast as yours, but..."
"Thanks," Angel said, before any more time could pass, before the opportunity to say it and have it really mean something had passed. "For... well. Nice moves up there." He gestured toward the ceiling.
Doyle took his hand back, nodding. "Any time." He took a step backward, toward the door. "If you're gonna be okay, I think I'm gonna go. Get some sleep."
Angel nodded, too. "Yeah."
It wasn't until he was in the doorway that Doyle hesitated, turning to look back over his shoulder at Angel. "See you tomorrow," he said.
Feeling a twinge of hope and what might have been happiness - just a twinge, not enough to scare him - Angel smiled. "See you tomorrow."
End
The title comes from Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights":
"I see a repose that neither earth nor hell can break,
and I feel an assurance of the endless and shadowless hereafter —
the eternity they have entered —
where life is boundless in its duration,
and love in its sympathy
and joy in its fulness.”
ETA - Thanks to
sam_gamgee for the proofread!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-01-09 08:32 pm (UTC)Love the last line. :)
no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 02:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 02:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-10 02:49 pm (UTC)Thank you!
*waves*
Date: 2005-01-10 03:07 am (UTC)If you're curious, I meant the post to be for my new community,
Re: *waves*
Date: 2005-01-10 02:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-12 08:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-13 02:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-01-30 01:58 pm (UTC)I'm late seeing this but I love it. :)
no subject
Date: 2005-01-30 08:07 pm (UTC)