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DISCLAIMER: Doyle may be mine, because, you know, he's still alive.
TIMELINE: AtS1, AR after Hero.
SUMMARY: A conversation. Also, I'm a little bit in denial these days. *winks*
WORDCOUNT: 2068
A.N.: Written for the ninth round of the Lyric Wheel. Thanks to Lissa for the lyrics.
SOMEONE TO LEAN ON
by Leni
The next morning, or more specifically, the morning after that next morning, Cordelia felt
good enough to blame Angel for it. It was only the truth, you see.
He had been the one to go 'solve a case' on his own.
He was the one who forgot to sharpen the axe and take the extra stake.
He had been the one to come back slashed and hurt and who'd needed Cordelia to patch him
back up. Then, like the typical male Angel was, as soon as she began showing some
signs of worry, he had twitched in his seat and practically sent her to Doyle. Because,
you understand, Doyle was much better at handling her (that was the part she was not
supposed to hear, but you didn't get to high school Queen without learning the secrets of
gossiping) and Angel needed to rest.
See? Completely Angel's fault that she ended up in a bar four blocks down the street,
sitting in one of those stools that had seemed far more comfortable when seen from afar.
"This is crazy," Cordelia said, but she still settled her purse beside her.
"It's not even legal for me to be here."
A man laughed at her left; "Sweet sweet jailbait," he muttered.
She whipped around to glare at him. "Excuse me?" One eyebrow cocked dismissively
as she looked at the stranger up and down. "This is a private conversation.
Get a life before snooping in mine." With a final roll of eyes, she moved back to
face Doyle.
His expression was deciding between being impressed or amused. In the end it was called a
tie. "Way to handle it, princess," he praised her, a smile on his lips.
Cordelia smiled smugly, then remembered what had called the man's attention in the first
place. "Look, Doyle, I know you had good intentions." She considered her
statement. "Or, I'd like to think you have them." She threw a hand in the air
when he tried to appear hurt. "But this isn't gonna work. Not my ambience and, did I
mention it's not legal?"
"Don't worry about it. Look." He snapped his fingers and waved at the bartender.
"Hey, Mike, you mind if I invite this pretty lady for a drink?"
Mike, a man in his forties who was too busy getting a client to pay, just waved Doyle off
and threw a muttered 'Whatever' in their direction.
"See?" Doyle winked at her and Cordelia couldn't help but laugh. He noticed that
she was a bit more relaxed and took the next step. "What will you order,
princess?"
Cordelia glared at her companion. "Don't call me princess. And this is
crazy." She looked around and shook her head. In Sunnydale she had always gone to the
Bronze, which seemed like the saint part of town when compared to this. She watched
the patrons at their tables, laughing around their half-empty bottles and cigarette smoke.
A lone waitress stood near the restroom, looking boredly around the room and waiting to be
yelled at before attending one of the clients. Cordelia almost laughed at the incongruence
of it. "This is not where I should be."
Doyle chuckled. "So you should be at your apartment? Getting all cosy with
Casper." He called the barman with a simple - obviously well-practised - gesture.
"Something I should know about you and your roomie?"
Her nose scrunched up at his suggestion. "Eeew!" She grabbed her purse and with
the other arm leaned against the bar, intending to jump back onto the floor. Doyle's hand
settled at her wrist and stopped her.
"Sorry," he said and actually sounded apologetic. "Bad joke, I'm sorry.
First round is on me, what do you say? To pay for the... misunderstanding?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Alright," she relented. "Just because you won't take a
no for an answer."
Neither mentioned that if she'd really wanted to, she would be already out the door and
hailing a taxi home. Doyle decided to count his blessings and take advantage of this rare
time for only the two of them. "Let's start with the basics for you." He turned
to Mike, who was impatiently waiting in front of them. "A beer for the miss and
something strong for me. You know what I like."
Mike looked at Cordelia then back at Doyle with something like admiration. Something that
could have been a wink or really bad lighting was next. Luckily, Cordelia was too busy
trying to figure where to place her jacket to notice it.
"You were scaring us there earlier," Doyle began, grabbing some peanuts and
swallowing them. "Nearly mummifying Angel in bandages, that isn't you. Not when you
aren't mad at him, are you mad?"
Her head shook mutely. She had finally decided to keep the jacket on; it was better than
risking her favourite - and only - good warm jacket to whatever was stuck to the
furniture.
Doyle offered the bowl to Cordelia. She looked at the greasy peanuts and made a disgusted
face. He just shrugged and kept on. "Then you screamed at him for not taking enough
care of himself while you were pricking at him with god-knows-what."
"It was only cotton. With alcohol," she muttered crankily, her legs a nervous
pendulum below the chair. "It's not as if it'll kill him."
"Still, calling him 'callous' and 'evil'? Not you at all, doll." He was silenced
by the arrival of their drinks. Her eyes wouldn't meet his when she reached for her drink.
"Shut up," she muttered, keeping her gaze focused on her glass as she sipped
from it.
He took her hand again, keeping a firm grasp on it even when she tried to tug it away.
"Come on, princess, you've been really weird since..." He gripped her hand
harder. "You know, last week."
Cordelia let out a cheerless laugh. 'Last week', as if that could comprehend the fact that
he had almost died - Died, with capital D - to save strangers. Hastily, she freed
her hand from his and kept it on her lap, taking half her drink in one gulp. "None of
your business," she groused, fingering the lid of her glass absently.
"Cordelia." And she was so surprised he'd used her actual name that she stopped.
"It is my business."
She huffed. "Just because you don't like me bitching at you at work. Don't worry,
I'll go back to ignoring you."
Doyle shook his head. "No. Not because we work together," he said seriously.
She looked at him searchingly. She wasn't a fool; she knew what he implied. That was what
scared her the most. Her only options right now were to confide in him and give him and in
into her heart. Or leave now, while she was still unhurt. The decision was easy to take.
Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she looked for a way to step down and leave the
local, his question and his worried eyes.
Doyle caught her before she reached the door, a hand on her shoulder more imperative than
any plead he could have made. She turned around in spite of herself, half conscious that
that fleeing attempt could have very well been her last.
"Talk to me," he said simply, and Cordelia now was too tired to deny him. She
let herself be guided back to their seats, hopping onto the stool without as much fuss as
the last time. "Hey, princess," he began after a long minute of silence.
"You don't leave a glass half-full, it's not polite." Her glass stood innocently
between them.
She took it and tried a smile. "I'm scared," she whispered after another long
drink, knowing that with all the noise Doyle wouldn't be able to hear her. She forgot he
was a half-demon; so when he answered "We all are." she looked up at him in
surprise.
Doyle mistook her look. "What? You didn't think I could be scared too? That I'm
afraid this thing, this... mission, will blow up in my face one of these days?" He
emptied his glass and set down the shot glass forcefully back on the table.
Cordelia started. She had never seen Doyle be so mad, not around her. He saw her
expression and calmed immediately. "I'm sorry, princess. But, you're not alone in
this."
"They said the same too. 'We're together, Cordy. We're an unit'." She chuckled
humourlessly. "Didn't take them long to abandon me."
Doyle looked at her in askance.
She waved it off. "Doesn't matter. The point is, I came to L.A. for something better.
I dreamed with movies, and money, and stardom. It was a pretty dream."
"I'm sure it was, doll."
She didn't seem to hear his interruption. "But then I found you, you and Angel. And
it was the best thing that could have happened to me. It was a battle to survive in this
city, and I was losing it. Do you know what I was doing for a living? I was actually
considering---" She caught herself, killing immediately the memories she'd been about
to confess. "Angel, he gave me a job. A place to live. And I know he did it out of
pity." She cut Doyle off before he could protest. "I can't file, I scare off
real customers. I can't even sharpen a damn axe and that could have killed
him." She breathed deeply, taking the rest of her beer in. "And last week it was
you, all hero-like and foolish, braving death to save others. What were you thinking? That
we'd just thank you for your valour and move on? How dense are you?"
"It was the right thing," Doyle muttered.
Cordelia shook her head. "The right thing, right. I'd forgotten how sacred that is.
I've almost lost my two only friends in the last week but I'm supposed to be fine about it
because it was the damn. right. thing." She threw her head back, contemplating the
ceiling for a second. So strong and stable compared to what she had yet to say. "I
don't know what I'd do on my own. Or, I do know it and I'm scared. It doesn't help
that you both rush to greet Death whenever you feel it's necessary." She took her
empty glass, playing with it distractedly. "I came to L.A for some sort of stability
and I found you. I don't even care if you keep me out of pity, I know I will learn to help
you better. But when Angel goes and almost kills himself... I remember how lost I really
am."
"Cordelia..."
"I fall to pieces, I'm falling." She whispered, almost absently, as if just
realising that herself. "Fell to pieces and I'm still falling." The grip on her
glass tightened, trying to capture from it the answers she craved. "I just... I need
someone. Someone who won't go off himself at anytime in the future." Angrily, she
swiped a tear away. "Isn't that stupid? Cordelia Chase is feeling lonely. What a
joke!"
"Well, we all need someone to lean on," Doyle said, taking the glass from her
numb hand and placing it on the bar. Then he turned back to her, lifting her chin with his
thumb until she was looking at him. "And if you want it," he continued
seriously, not letting her break away, "Well, you can lean on me."
Cordelia smiled tremulously, knowing this could be a great mistake. Friends were good, she
had learned to value Angel and Doyle in the last months. Friends make you feel happy and
safe; Cordelia couldn't have wished for more. But Doyle was asking her to trust in him,
implicitly, with none of the walls she liked to hide behind. His words tempted her to just
do it but, could she?
He seemed to sense his inner turmoil, because he leaned close to her. Before Cordelia
could say anything about it, his arms were lightly pressed around her body and his words
sounded much closer than she'd ever heard them. "Just let it go, princess, just let
it go."
She looked up at him, meeting his eyes willingly for the first time in the night. Her
voice wasn't low enough not to understand what she said next. "That's what I'm afraid
of."
Doyle didn't say anything else, but just hugged her tighter and motioned the bartender to
bring them another round.
The End
07/07/04
Feedback is
always appreciated.
Fall To Pieces
Lyrics by Scott Weiland
Music by Velvet Revolver
It's been a long year
Since you've been gone
I've been alone here
I've grown old
I fall to pieces, I'm falling
Fell to pieces and I'm still falling
Every time I'm falling down
All alone I fall to pieces
I keep a journal of memories
I'm feeling lonely, I can't breathe
I fall to pieces, I'm falling
Fell to pieces and I'm still falling
All the years I've tried
With more to go
Will the memories die
I'm waiting
Will I find you
Can I find you
We're falling down
I'm falling
Let it Bleed
Jagger/ Richards
Well, we all need someone to lean on
And if you want it, well, you can lean on me
Well, we all need someone to lean on
And if you want it, well, you can lean on me
She said "My breasts, they will always be open
Baby, you can rest your weary head on me
And there will always be a space in my parking lot
When you need a little coke and sympathy"
Yeah, we all need someone we can dream on
And if you want it, you can dream on me
Yeah, we all need someone we can cream on
And if you want it, you can cream on me
I was dreaming of a steel guitar engagement
When you drink my health in scented jasmine tea
You knifed me in my dirty filthy basement
With that jaded faded junky nurse
Oh, what pleasant company
We all need someone we can feed on
And if you want it, you can feed on me
Take my arm, take my leg
Oh, baby, don't you take my head
We all need someone we can bleed on
And if you want it, you can bleed on me
We all need someone we can bleed on
And if you want it, why don't you bleed on me
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