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DISCLAIMER: No to Cordy, no to Doyle. Just no.
SUMMARY: Fluff warning.
WORDCOUNT: 539
NOTES: Written for Lynn, at Buffyverse1000
CHANGE OF PLANS
by Leni
Cordelia gasped, suddenly sitting up in the bathtub. Water sloshed out wildly and a
soft, worried Dennis-knock sounded on the other side of the door. "I'm okay!"
she called, and the knocking receded.
But she wasn't.
Because Cordelia had never been so good with maths, she still needed paper and pen to
figure out how much Angel owed her at the end of the month. But she knew too well that
it'd been over a month since she'd gotten her last salary - she made a mental note to
remind Angel of that small detail. She also knew that since they’d started dating,
she and Doyle made a point of celebrating when cash came in. Sort of a self-congratulatory
dinner for helping the hopeless and staying alive at the same time. But the last time they
hadn't been able to go celebrate. Cordelia had been confined to their bed, thinking of
buying stock in Advil and resenting to have been born female.
Because if there was something that Hellmouths, vampires, IRS and frustrated careers had
not changed was the fact that her cycles were exact. Not even the stress of Apocalypses
had changed her body, neither in Sunnydale nor in L.A.. Then why...? Cordelia almost
jumped to her feet.
She'd kill Doyle.
She grabbed her bathrobe and went to her bedroom just to find her bed empty - and hadn't
they already talked about how the last to leave the bed should make it? A whiff of fresh
coffee lead her to the kitchen. Doyle had a fascination for cooking which she'd taken as a
joke until the day she woke up to a deliciously sinful breakfast in bed. Sure enough,
there he was, rummaging in the refrigerator.
He came up triumphantly with a bottle of ketchup. Cordelia didn't let that triumph last
for long.
"I'm pregnant."
There went the ketchup.
Doyle just stared, mouth agape and letting his special sunnyside eggs turn into very
burned black things. Thankfully Dennis turned off the stove before there was a big damage.
"You... You..." her boyfriend stammered. "You?" he managed finally,
not very smartly.
"Yes. Me, me, me!" Cordelia interrupted the nervous babbling, glaring at
her helpless excuse of a lover. Oh, was Doyle dead!
But then she was suddenly swept in a hug. "You're not going demon-hunting."
Cordelia was about to protest that this wasn't the dark ages and he could save his
protective streak for the next client when Doyle kissed her. "We'll figure this
out," he murmured distractedly, and Cordelia knew he was already planning how to tell
their friends. Hopefully he was also planning what to with their future because Cordelia
had no idea at all.
But Doyle just laughed aloud, tugging her arm towards the door. She heard Dennis locking
it behind them.
She gaped at her boyfriend even as she followed him. Didn't Doyle understand that this
would throw their lives upside down? That the frail security she'd managed since she came
to L.A. was forever gone? But he didn't, that was obvious as he enthusiastically lead her
down the stairs and into the car. She hadn't seen him so happy since... never.
She'd kill Doyle. Oh yes, she'd kill him dead.
But maybe later.
The End
02/08/04
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