If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
- Christopher Marlowe, The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
Xander set the stack of folders back on the desk and picked up the magazine again. After flipping through two articles he had already read, he put that down, too, and sighed.
"You know," an Irish lilt informed him from across the room, "if you want to go back to my apartment and watch television, that's okay. You don't have to hang out with me here all week."
The teenager turned to face his lover, who was reading a newspaper. "No, here's good. Well, here's a little boring, actually, but I came to LA to spend the week with you, not waiting for you to get home from work so we can do something fun."
Doyle considered this. "Well," he said at last, "if you're looking for something really fun to do, you could file those client folders you keep peeping through. That, or maybe Cordy needs some help filing her nails..."
This last comment elicited a snort from the ex-cheerleader who sat behind the desk, nail file in hand. "Right. Like I would trust Mr. Nail-biter himself to come near my hands. Just look at his cuticles!" She waved the file in Xander's general direction, making him self-consciously ball up his fists, hiding his nails from view. They had been looking a little ragged lately, but he thought no one else would notice. Maybe he could borrow the file next and...
His thoughts were interrupted when the outer door opened, revealing a tall, beautiful woman with long, curly blonde hair.
"Hi," she said, seeing Xander and Cordelia behind the desk, "I'm looking for -"
"Harry?" Doyle asked from behind her, shock written all over his face.
* * * * * * *
Xander felt like someone had taken a long, dull blade and shoved it straight into his heart. Or possibly a spoon. A big rusty spoon which they had used to stir his guts around a little before they pulled it out through his back. And Doyle had done this. Doyle, the one person Xander felt like he could trust these days. The same Doyle who had so obviously not deserved that trust at all, because the Irishman had lied through his teeth. Well, not exactly lied, but definitely left out some of the more salient details of his life. Like, that he had once been married. That he was *still* married, to an incredibly attractive, intelligent woman. Not that Xander had much proof of her intelligence, since he had run down to Angel's apartment right after he had been introduced to her. How could he possibly have stayed? He felt like such an idiot. Had he really thought for a second that he could mean something to the older half-demon? How could Doyle possibly be attracted to a stupid kid from Sunnydale who can't even hold a minimum-wage job when the green-eyed man could have someone like Harry?
The answer was, of course, that he couldn't want Xander. Not for anything more than an occasional roll in the er, sheets, as it were. And that realization hurt the dark-haired man more than he would have liked to admit. Relationship his ass.
The sound of the elevator broke him out of his dejected speculations. He assumed it would be Doyle, and was equal parts disappointed and relieved to see that it was only Angel.
Xander knew that he really must be in a pissy mood if seeing Angel was the cause of any emotion other than intense loathing and distrust.
The vampire eyed the hurt and miserable expression on the young man's face as he approached. Angel had never been good at giving comfort, and was even worse at tactfully "suggesting" a course of action. And now suddenly he was forced to do both for an extremely hostile addressee. Yup, the Beatles were right: his unlife just kept getting better all the time.
The Irishman sat down on the couch a little distance away from the slayerette, only to have Xander immediately tense up. Not the most auspicious beginning.
Angel cleared his throat. "Xander..."
"Oh no. Don't tell me Doyle sent you down here to try and plead his case."
The vampire felt the first stirrings of annoyance deep in his gut. "No," he said, a little more sharply than he intended. "Doyle is sitting up in the office torn apart because his wife that he hasn't seen in years just handed him divorce papers and the person who is supposed to be comforting him - his *boyfriend* - is down here feeling sorry for himself. Because I care about Doyle very deeply I came down here to tell you that he needs you now, so you had better get your ass up there."
Xander blinked owlishly at the brunette, the teenager's mouth nearly hitting his chest in its haste to drop open. Recovering himself after a moment, he shook his head with a sigh. "He lied to me," he whispered finally.
Angel answered him just as quietly. "I know a thing or two about wanting to forget the past. I'm sure Doyle had his reasons for not telling you, and that's not to say that he never would have. Maybe he thought that if you knew, you might not want to be with him."
Xander's face scrunched with concentration. "But it would never have made a difference in how I felt about him...about us."
"Maybe you should tell him that."
There was a momentary silence as Xander took this in. Then the teen stood up and walked back over to the elevator. Before closing the gate, he looked back at the dark-eyed man. "Coming up?" he asked.
"No. You take all the time you need. I sent Cordelia on some errands, so you'll have to office to yourselves."
Nodding, Xander used the way too short elevator trip to try and figure out exactly what he was going to say to his lover.
* * * * * * *
As it turned out, it was Doyle who spoke first.
"I don't suppose you feel like comin' to a bachelor party with me? Angel already said I could borrow his car to get there," the Irishman said.
For the second time in about as many minutes Xander was completely taken aback. "Who's the bachelor?" he finally countered.
"The guy Harry's marrying once I sign these divorce papers." Doyle gestured toward a stack of papers in front of him. "I met him just now. Richard. He seems nice enough, I guess. I'm sure he'll give her a good life." All of this was stated in a flat, dead voice that was so different from Doyle's normal speaking cadence that Xander winced through his own anger and pain.
The younger man hesitantly reached out a hand and squeezed Doyle's shoulder, suddenly wishing he could go and kill this Richard guy. Anything to make the half-demon feel better.
"You're not really thinking of going to his bachelor party, are you?" he asked instead.
"I think I might. I told him I would, just now. He said somethin' about how much Harry would like it if I went, and I think that's probably true. She'd like to see us gettin' along. And I can't really figure out a good reason not to go, ya know? Harry and I, our relationship was over a long time ago. We just didn't bother making it official until now. I guess I shoulda seen this coming eventually."
The last of his resolve blown away by the utter despair he heard in the older man's voice, Xander wrapped his arms as well as he could around the seated half-demon, resting his chin in Doyle's thick, dark hair.
"Then of course I'll go with you," he murmured in what he hoped was a comforting tone.
The teenager was relieved when he felt the Irishman relax into his arms with a sigh. A few minutes later, tears began slide along the smooth cheeks. Doyle bucked a little in Xander's grasp as a sob escaped.
"Xan, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to not tell you. Harry...she left me. I loved her so much, and we were happy, and then I find out I'm half demon. It devastated me. I quit my job, which I loved to death, and I took up the Irish national pastime to fill the hours. Eventually it just got to be too much for Harry, watching me destroy myself a little every day. So she walked out. I thought I could get on with my life only if I didn't have anything I cared about too much, something I might lose. And then I meet you. And you...I..." Doyle pressed his face against Xander's chest, sobs cutting off anything else he was going to say.
The slayerette held Doyle tighter, gently rocking the older man as Willow had done for him when they were both little kids. The calm swaying motion had always soothed the younger Xander in much the same way it seemed to be soothing Doyle now. The sobs decreased to occasional hiccups, and eventually the green-eyed man pulled away from him, wiping his face quickly, embarrassed.
"Xander, I -"
"It's okay. You can tell me the long version whenever you're ready."
Doyle let his eyes trace Xander's features uncertainly. "Yeah?"
The younger man ventured a small smile. "Yeah. Now when is this party? I gotta make sure I'll be in town."
"Tomorrow night." Seeing Xander's surprise, the half-demon shrugged. "Harry really put off asking me for the divorce until the last minute. I guess she was dreading seeing me again almost as much as I was dreading seeing her."
"If it was a painful breakup, then that makes sense."
Doyle stood, reaching for his jacket from the hook above his head. "Maybe. But she's the leaver, not the leavee. I think I have the right to corner the market on dread." Running a hand through his brunette hair, he turned to face his lover. "You want to get out of here? I don't think Angel would mind too much if I took the rest of the day off."
Xander nodded. "Sure." Hesitating, he chose his next words carefully. "Look, if you want me to hang out here for awhile, give you some time alone..."
Doyle shook his head firmly. "No. I'm not promising to be the best company for the next coupla days, but I definitely want you around. Okay?" He reached out and threaded his fingers with those of the younger man, who nodded.
"Okay."
* * * * * * *
Xander had a few bad moments just after they arrived at the party the next evening. Richard had pulled Doyle away, leaving the teenager alone in a room full of strangers. Not that Xander was especially shy - far from it, usually. But the coolness he experienced from the other men gathered in the dining room made him quickly retreat into a booth with a soda, from which he could keep an eye on the half-demon, who was getting progressively drunker over at the bar.
Although the slayerette had never actually been to a bachelor party before, he had a lifetime of bad '80's comedies behind him, so he wasn't at all shocked when the stripper came out. As much as the naked, jiggling flesh might have attracted him only a few months ago, he now found his attention shifting from the dancing woman back to an increasingly depressed Doyle. It was while he was eyeing his lover, wondering if he should go over or let Doyle finish bonding with Richard, that he saw the two men leave the room. There wasn't anything inherently suspicious in their actions, but they seemed to be watching Doyle a little too closely. Besides a pretty impressive network of scars and a slight fear of the dark, one of the most important things that living on the Hellmouth had given Xander was an almost uncanny ability to sense trouble. That, or he just basically expected to find it everywhere, and so could spot a suspect situation before most normal people.
This was definitely one of those times.
Moving surreptitiously from the booth, he managed to follow the men - who he now recognized as two of Richard's brothers - into a shadowy hallway, then through an empty kitchen, finally ending up at the entrance to the janitor's closet. Through the open door, he could see at least one of the men performing some kind of ritual which involved slicing his own hand and dripping the blood into a copper bowl.
Xander couldn't help but grimace. Rites which involved the letting of blood were usually very, very bad, besides the fact that they were just, well, gross. Whatever was going on, he knew that Richard's family - and by association, Richard as well - was not entirely above board, and that most likely Doyle would be the target of something before the night was over.
He found his way back to the dark hallway, where he could vaguely remember seeing a pay phone next to the men's room.
* * * * * * *
Cordelia, thankfully, answered her cell phone right after the first ring.
"Cordy, it's me, Xander. Listen, I think we're in a little trouble here."
"Did Doyle get drunk and trash the place? I knew it was a bad idea to have you two - "
"What? No. Nothing like that. I just think that Richard's family is plotting something. I saw one of them doing some kind of ceremony that involved him cutting his hand..."
Cordelia tried to shrug it off. "Well, maybe it's just some spell for a happy marriage or something. Or maybe it's some bachelor thing, you know, get it in while you can. Probably an 'attract beautiful women' spell."
"No, I don't think so. I think it has something to do with Doyle, and I think it's probably not a good thing. Just ask Harry about it, okay?"
Overly dramatic sigh from the aspiring actress. "Fine, whatever."
It was just as Xander hung up the phone that he became aware of the men standing behind him. Before he could even turn around, there was a flash of pain as his skull connected with something hard and moving very quickly. Then there was a whole lot of black.
* * * * * * *
At some undetermined time later, Xander opened his eyes very slowly, willing the large blobs in front of him to focus into actual objects. He was outside. The pain in his head was not unlike previous head trauma he had received from his father over the years. It didn't feel like a concussion - a state he was also familiar with - he wasn't particularly sleepy, nor was he having trouble keeping his thoughts coherent. Getting unsteadily to his feet, Xander reflected ruefully on the fact that even though Richard's family was clearly out to stop him from helping Doyle, they were trying to do it without really hurting him too much.
At that thought, the brunette's eyes widened. Doyle!
* * * * * * *
Xander slid in the first half open window he found, gripping a stake in one hand and a large ornamented knife in the other. Granted, the stake wasn't going to do a whole lot of good in this instance, but he always carried both weapons wherever he went, and at this point it looked like he might need as many weapons as he could find. Peering carefully around a corner, the young man gasped when he saw Doyle locked in some kind of box and Richard drawing a broken black line on the half-demon's forehead.
Seeing as all of the demons seemed to be focused entirely on what Richard was doing, the slayerette felt like he might be able to get fairly close to the happenings without anyone noticing he was there. Hopefully. Being as silent as he could, Xander crept forward until he came to the edge of the bar, where he dropped his stake and picked up a large silver tray instead. Ahead of him, Richard and his family were arguing about what utensil would be best for the eating of brains. Taking a deep breath, Xander raised the tray and brought it down as hard as he could on the first red-faced demon head that he came to.
The tremendous crash immediately brought every eye in the place on him, with Doyle yelling out a relieved "Xan!"
At that moment in time, Xander would have given almost anything to have Buffy standing beside him. He had a horrible feeling, even as he raised the tray again, that he was going to be unconscious for a second time before the night was over.
And that's when he saw the demons at the other end of the circle start to collapse as if some unseen force was kicking their brain-eating asses. Then the teen's chocolate eyes widened as he realized what was happening. It might not have been Buffy, but it was the next best thing.
An Angel continued to pummel the half-drunk party attendees, Xander ran forward and flipped the lock open on Doyle's cage, watching in fascination as the Irishman sprang from the box, allowing his demon nature emerge as he began pounding on the first one of his captors he could get his hands on. Xander even got in one or two good hits with his tray here and there, though he also had one or two demons get in a few pretty hard punches to his already aching cranium. Things might have really gotten out of hand if it wasn't for the sudden female voice screaming at them all to stop.
"What do you think you're doing?" Harry yelled at all of them, Cordelia right on her heels.
"Hun-bun, you really shouldn't be here. It's for guys only," Richard responded sheepishly.
"You didn't answer my question, Richard. Were you or were you not planning on eating Doyle's brain?"
The groom-to-be's mouth open and closed several times before he was able to make any sounds come out of it. "We were just..."
"You were going to eat his brain. Don't lie to me, Richard." The blonde woman crossed the dining room and stood toe to toe with her fiance. "You know how I feel about these kinds of things. How could you even think of doing it? What were you going to say when I found out?"
"Well," Richard started, looking embarrassed, "I was kind of hoping you never would."
Harry's eyes flashed. "You were going to start our life together with deceit?" she paused for a long moment, deep in thought. Then she wrapped her hands around Richard's and kissed him on the cheek one last time. "Goodbye, Richard." When she withdrew her fingers, he was left grasping the engagement ring he had given her.
* * * * * * *
Outside in the parking lot, Cordelia, Angel and Xander stood around uncomfortably as Harry and Doyle talked quietly. Finally, the half-demon motioned for Xander to join the two-some.
"Before we get to saying goodbye for now, there is someone I'd like you to meet. Harry, this is Xander Harris."
The blonde focused on the teenager as they shook hands, making some of his apprehension of her return.
"I saw you yesterday, right? At the office?"
Xander nodded quickly, embarrassed at remembering his quick flight from the room once she had arrived.
"So you work in the private investigator field, too?" she asked politely.
"Actually, no," Doyle saved him from answering, "he was just waiting for me to get offa work so we could go out."
Harry looked confused as she looked from Doyle to Xander. The intensity that lurked behind Doyle's words warned her that this was more than a casual friendship, but she wasn't sure exactly what it meant.
Doyle, sensing her mystification, decided to define things once and for all.
"He's my boyfriend, Harry."
"Oh." There was the inevitable pause it took for her to process and accept this information, then she clasped Xander's hand again warmly. "I'm very glad to meet you, Xander."
Xander couldn't help but return her kind smile as a little of the jealousy and resentment he harbored toward her melted away in the face of the sincerity of her greeting.
"Okay, are we done here? Can we leave now?" Cordelia's voice shattered the moment.
Doyle rolled his eyes and turned to his ex-wife. "I guess this is it then, yeah? It's been nice seeing you again, Harry, even though the circumstances weren't exactly all that cheerful."
The two of them hugged, then quickly drew apart. Hugging brought back a lot of not-so-good memories of making up after screaming at each other all night.
"Take care of yourself, Francis. Take care of Xander."
The half-demon turned and smiled at his lover as the teenager took his hand.
"So," the slayerette said as the two of them piled into Angel's backseat, "does this mean I should call you Francis from now on? Because it's really fitting. I mean, if I had to guess your name, Francis would be -"
He was cut off by Doyle's warm lips closing over his own, kissing him into silence.
-end-