Author's Note: This is a missing scene set during 'The Bachelor', after Doyle saves Cordy from the vampire outside of Angel Investigations. This is what I would have liked to have seen happen. Special thanks to Tz who beta'd this for me, not only in a really timely fashion, but she did it despite never having watched the show. Love ya, babe!
Feedback: Yes, please. I love it lots!
Lying on the unyielding pavement, Cordelia Chase winced, protectively cradling her side with one arm, while propping herself up with the other.
Heart still pounding frantically against her rib cage from both fear and adrenalin at the attack that had ensued just moments before, she stared at the dark-haired man sprawled a few feet away from her as chocolate brown eyes melded with sage green ones.
"Are you okay?"
Frowning, Cordelia managed to sit up. "I'm fine. That was...You're so brave," she said as she stared at the Irish man before her in awed disbelief.
"You think you can say that again without so much shock in your voice. You're stepping on my moment of manliness here," Doyle said sardonically.
"I'm just..." Cordelia said before trailing off.
"Surprised?"
"Grateful," Cordelia said, smiling softly. She watched as he struggled to his feet, saw him wince in pain, before holding out a hand to help her up. Grateful, she slipped her hand in his larger one and allowed him to help her to her feet.
"Go sit and I'll be back in a sec," Cordelia said, leaving Doyle standing in the inner office of Angel Investigations.
"Where are you going?" Doyle asked as he gingerly sank into one of the office chairs.
"Going to get some supplies and change out of this dress. God, do you know how much it's going to cost to get this cleaned!?" Cordelia complained, her voice easily traveling through the closed bathroom door. "This dress cost me a small fortune."
"And what a lovely dress it is, " Doyle called out as he shifted in his seat, wincing as his muscles protested.
"And stupid dead guy just throws me and it down on the pavement like it's a burlap sac. God, some people just have no appreciation for fashion," Cordelia griped as she exited the bathroom in jeans and a top, her arms laden with gauze and antiseptic.
Dropping the supplies on the desk before them, she reached for the antiseptic and poured a generous amount on a cotton pad. Reaching for Doyle's chin with one hand, she proceeded to dab none-to-gently at his face.
"Argh, I can't believe Pierce just ran and left me there to face that vamp alone," Cordelia muttered. "What a girl! I mean, he practically threw me at that vamp in his haste to get away. Okay, so ugly vamp guy grabbed me around the neck but still! He didn't even try to help! Just ran to his car and left me behind. God, I wouldn't be surprised if he wet his pants in the process," Cordelia ranted, as she rubbed unmercifully at Doyle's face, oblivious of his discomfort.
Jerking his head, he pushed his chair back, and simultaneously reached for Cordelia's arm.
"What?" she said, abruptly ending her rant as she found her arm immobilized.
"Not that I'm questioning your lovely bedside manner, but uh...I think I can continue from here, yeah?" Doyle said, trying to pry the cotton pad away from surprisingly strong fingers.
"Oh, please. Don't tell me that hurt! You're such a baby. You barely have a scratch on your face! Besides, Angel never complains when I fix him up after a fight," Cordelia scoffed.
"Okay, first off, Angel's a vampire, man. He's got like a super high threshold for pain," Doyle interjected. "And secondly, I didn't say it hurt...just that I could do it myself," Doyle said unconvincingly.
"Please!" Cordelia said as she rolled her eyes.
Reaching for his face again, she continued to tend to his injuries. Immediately tensing at her touch, he allowed himself to slowly relax after several minutes, her touch surprisingly gentle.
"Still thinking about your date?" Doyle asked after several minutes of silence.
"You mean Mr.Girlie Pants?" Cordelia said scowling. "Hardly."
"Aw, come on, Princess. I'm sure another rich guy will come along any second to sweep you off your feet," Doyle said, trying to keep the jealousy out of his voice. "Maybe he'll drive a Porche, yeah? Or maybe he'll have a house in Tuscany or Paris or something. Way better than a measly house in Montecito and a place in the hills with a lap pool, eh?" Doyle said, recalling Cordelia's earlier boasting about her date's assets.
Her hand stilling, she stared at him, her expression unreadable.
"Cordy?" Doyle asked after several seconds, trying unsuccessfully not to squirm under her piercing gaze.
"Yeah, maybe," she said quietly, his words jolting her from her confusing thoughts. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" she asked as she looked down at him.
"I think most of my bruises are under my clothes. I'll ah... I'll get to them later. Unless of course you're offering?" he said, grinning up at her.
"What? Oh, please! Not even in your dreams," Cordelia said, but she was unable to prevent the faint blush that was slowly traveling up her face.
Feeling it's slow burn, she quickly turned away to gather the supplies, in the hopes that Doyle hadn't noticed. Her side protested at the sudden and abrupt motion however, and she winced, her breath shakily escaping from slightly parted lips.
"Cordelia?" Doyle asked.
Turning, she saw the question and concern reflected in Doyle's eyes.
"I'm fine," she said, flashing him one of her brilliant smiles, her arms once more filled with supplies.
"Will you let me see?" he said, clearly seeing through her lie and she sighed, allowing her smile to drop.
"I'm fine, Doyle," she said, her tone firm.
"If you won't let me look at you, will you at least go to a hospital so a doctor can check you out?" Doyle said.
"With what? The lovely health-care package Angel set up for us? Oh, wait. He didn't," Cordelia dead-panned. "Seriously, Doyle, I'm fine. It's just a bruise."
Turning away, she walked to the bathroom. Replacing the supplies, she closed the medicine cabinet and jumped as Doyle's face was reflected behind her.
"God!" she shrieked, "stalk much?" Turning around to face him, she saw him leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed. "Okay, are you going to move anytime this century?" Cordelia said in exasperation when he failed to let her pass. "God, what's your damage du jour?" she asked as she tried once again to slip past his unmoving form.
Pissed off, she stomped down on his foot and he yelped.
"Ow! You're not supposed to further injure the injured guy!" Doyle cried out.
"I didn't even step on you that hard, you big baby," Cordelia protested as she watched him grab at his foot with one hand and the door frame with the other, effectively blocking her in the bathroom.
"Said the girl wearing the three-inch stilettos!" Doyle cried out. "Those things should be classified as weapons."
"Well next time move, Mister," Cordelia said. Crossing her arms, she waited impatiently for Doyle to rise. "Finally!," she cried out as he straightened and moved to allow her through.
Brushing past him, she yelped in surprise as he suddenly reached for her, his fingers trailing quickly up and down her rib cage.
"Hey!" she protested loudly as she slapped his hands away.
Undeterred, he managed to slide her shirt up a few inches, catching a glimpse of the bruise forming on her side and something else before she violently pulled her shirt down and broke away from his grip.
"What the hell is your trauma?!" Cordelia snapped as she protectively crossed her arms over her chest.
"Sorry. I just--I'm sorry, okay?" Doyle said quietly.
Cordelia pulled her crossed arms tighter before finally directing her gaze on him.
They stared at one another in silence for several tense minutes.
"That's a nasty looking scar," Doyle finally said, his voice breaking the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them. He watched as her expression became unreadable.
"Yeah, well. You should see the matching one on my back," she mumbled before turning. Her voice was so low; it took him several seconds to make sure he understood her properly.
"Cordelia, wait," he said. With two deliberate strides, he was beside her. He reached for her arm but she shook him off. Turning, she faced him and quickly folded her arms once more across her chest. "I wasn't--I mean..." he said, hesitating.
Arching an eyebrow, Cordelia tapped her foot impatiently.
"I just meant it looked like it must of hurt, is all," Doyle finally said.
"Wow. You mean you can look at that nasty, ol' scar on my stomach and know it hurt? Those are some excellent deductive skills you got there," she said, the words rushing out much harsher and louder than she had expected.
She watched as he winced at her words but refused to feel sorry.
"Look, Delia. I'm sorry. I was just wanting to make sure you were okay. Like you did for me before with the gauze and might I add lovely bedside manner," he babbled, nervously gesturing with his hands before running them agitatedly through his hair.
"God, you're such a retard," Cordelia said after a beat, but the words failed to pack any bite to them and when he looked up, he was surprised to see a hint of a smile gracing her features.
"Does this mean you're no longer mad at me?" Doyle asked hopefully.
"This means I'm willing to forget it since you did save my life and all. But if you ever pull anything like that again, I will kick your ass. Are we clear?" Cordelia said as she stared him down.
"Crystal," he said before flashing her one of his trademark grins.
She allowed her own lips to curl into a brief smile before looking away.
Despite their truce, an uncomfortable silence once more descended over them as Doyle's thoughts strayed to the scar he'd seen marring Cordelia's stomach. He debated asking her what had happened, but self-preservation kicked in and he decided to hold off on the questioning, figuring it would be safer to simply ask Angel when he had a chance.
"So where's loser pining guy?" Cordelia asked suddenly, jolting Doyle from his wayward thoughts.
"Angel? Probably on his way back from getting that kid home," Doyle said.
"Kid?" Cordelia asked as she reached for her purse and keys.
"Had a vision earlier. Vampire nest looking to snack on some poor, unsuspecting teenager. I asked Angel if he wanted me to come with, but he told me to head back," Doyle said.
"Good thing you did or I'd have ended up that vamp's main course," Cordelia said, bag in hand as she came to rest before him. "Say, how did you know I needed help?" she asked.
"Uh, I heard you scream. Great set of lungs you got there, let me tell ya," Doyle said, chuckling nervously, refusing to admit he'd heard Pierce's car pull up and had been secretly spying on the couple when he'd seen the vamp attack them.
She watched as he rubbed absently at his forehead and frowned. Reaching into the desk drawer, she pulled out the bottle of aspirin they kept on hand for Doyle and opened the childproof cap, remembering how he always fumbled with it. Pulling out the cotton packaging, she wordlessly walked up to him and waited for him to hold out his hand before tapping a couple in his opened palm. She felt his eyes on her back as she replaced the bottle in the drawer and turned around.
"You need water?" she asked, spying the little white tablets still lying in his out-stretched palm.
"What? Uh, no. Thanks," he said, still surprised by the uncharacteristic action. "So, I'm thinking a celebratory drink down at the pub may be called for, eh?" he asked after dry swallowing the tablets, a hopeful expression on his face.
"Oh, please. The last thing you need is another drink. Your body is practically comprised of 97 alcohol," she said, failing to notice his face fall as she reached for her now crumpled dress. "Come on, I'll drive you home," she said, fishing her car keys out of her bag.
"Uh, while I appreciate the offer Cordy, I--" he began but she cut him off.
"Doyle. Car. Now," she ordered before stepping outside, leaving Doyle to stare after her.
"Guess I'm going home," Doyle said to the empty office. Scribbling a quick note to Angel that he'd left, he quickly stepped outside, making sure to lock the door behind him.
"Uh, Cordelia? Not that I'm questioning your sense of direction, but-- uh, see, my apartment is in the opposite direction," Doyle said as he stared out of the windshield from the passenger seat.
"Please, like I'd ever drive to your apartment at this time of night. Unlike some people, I don't have a secret death wish," Cordelia scoffed. "You can sleep on the couch and we'll drive to work in the morning," Cordelia said as she manoeuvred her car onto her street.
"While I appreciate the offer and all, I don't exactly have a change of clothes on hand," Doyle began.
"Like you don't go into work everyday looking like you slept in your clothes," Cordelia scoffed as she parked her car in front of her building.
Unhooking her seat belt, she turned to stare at Doyle who'd remained silent and her expression softened.
"We'll stop by your place on the way to the office, okay?" she said quietly.
"Yeah, thanks," Doyle said, his eyes briefly locking with her much darker ones, before unhooking his own seat belt. Stepping out of the car, he made sure to lock the car door before following Cordelia into her apartment.
"I'll get you a pillow and a blanket," Cordelia said as she flicked on the lights and shut the door behind them. Dumping her purse by the door, she went into the bedroom, leaving Doyle to stand by the living room. "Dennis, get an ice pack for Doyle will you?" Cordelia called out, her voice easily carrying through the silent apartment.
"I don't really need," Doyle began but faltered as an ice pack floated into his hand. "Thanks, Dennis," Doyle said to Cordelia's ghostly roommate.
"Here you go," Cordelia said as she materialized from the bedroom, a pillow and blanket in her outstretched arms.
"Thanks," Doyle said, still clutching the ice pack in his hand. "Mind if I use the little boy's room and freshen up a bit before I turn in?" he asked awkwardly.
"Oh, yeah, sure. There's an extra toothbrush in the medicine cabinet if you want. And uh, the kitchen is that way if you need anything," Cordelia said, placing the pillow and blanket on the couch. "Anyway, I'm going to head to bed. I'll see you in the morning," she said, feeling uncharacteristically flustered.
"Okay. Thanks," Doyle said, and she smiled briefly at him before turning around. Taking two steps in the direction of her bedroom, she abruptly stopped.
"Cordelia?" Doyle asked, watching as she turned to face him.
"I just--" she began before stopping. Inhaling sharply, she locked eyes with the confused Irish man standing in her living room. "Just thanks, you know...for before. That was really...brave," she said, repeating her earlier words to him.
"And still with the shock and disbelief," Doyle teased, green eyes twinkling mischievously.
"Good night," she said, smiling at him before turning around.
"Night and you're welcome," Doyle said, watching as she paused briefly at his words before continuing into her room and softly shutting the door behind her.
Glancing around the now empty living room, he dropped the ice pack on the couch and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Changing into a pair of sweat pants and a tank top, Cordelia listened as Doyle opened the facet in the washroom before crawling into bed.
"Thanks, Dennis," Cordelia murmured as he drew the covers up to her chin. "Dennis?" Cordelia whispered after several minutes.
The rustling of paper on her night table let her know he was still in the room and she lowered her voice further, not wanting Doyle to overhear.
"I just, I don't get it!" she cried out softly. "You should have seen Doyle tonight. He was all brave and heroic and did I mention brave?" Cordelia said. "Doyle and brave in the same sentence. I know, I don't get it either," she said before sitting up.
"I mean, he like totally saved my life tonight. And it's just, the whole time I'm on this date that was supposed to be super amazing and instead I was bored beyond tears. And all I could think about was how Mr. Rich and Handsome was probably this huge wimp and could like never handle any of the stuff I deal with on a daily basis. And I was totally right, too," Cordelia said, thinking about how fast Pierce had run off at the first sight of the vampire.
"You should have seen him run like the little girl he is," she scoffed.
"And I just sat there the whole way through dinner at this fabulous restaurant praying for the date to end. Me praying for a date with a hot, rich guy to end, Dennis!" Cordelia said, her rant picking up speed. "And then finally Mr. Disappointment drops me off at Angel's and this super ugly vamp guy suddenly decides it's hungry and I'm the main course and out of nowhere Doyle comes running like some sort of really badly dressed super hero reject and totally saves me. You should have seen him, Dennis. I mean, he was all beaten up and the first thing he asks is if I'm alright. I mean, that's like 'wow' you know? And now I've gotta find a gun and shoot my brains out with it, cos I vowed after the disaster that was Xander Harris, no more loser fixer-upper guys," Cordelia said, as she lightly traced the scar on her stomach.
"Oh god, and then to be super annoying, Doyle decides he's going to maul me after I tell him I'm perfectly fine. I really wanted to kick his ass, too," she said, remembering how upset she'd been with him.
"But he did it because he was like worried about me, you know?" Cordelia said, her voice softening further. "I don't know. I mean maybe Doyle isn't a complete loser with absolutely no potential whatsoever. You know, like really, really, really deep down inside he's got some hidden away. Like buried beneath the shortness and the bad fashion sense and the drinking and like that weird smell he sometimes has?" Cordelia said. "I mean, he couldn't possibly be any worse than Xander, right?"
Hearing the water shut off, she lay back down and curled onto her side. "Night, Dennis," she whispered as she heard the bathroom door open.
The tucking in of the duvet cover under her chin and the closing of her bedroom light was her only response.
Turning restlessly onto her side, Cordelia stared at the red numbers blinking back angrily at her from her bedside table.
Thirsty and unable to sleep, she sighed and quietly slipped out of bed. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she turned the doorknob and stepped out into the living room.
Slits of moonlight spilled in from the partially opened blinds to help light her way as she cautiously stepped around the couch and Doyle's sleeping form to enter the kitchen. Filling a glass with water, she drained it and placed it in the sink before stepping back out into the living room.
Catching sight of Doyle, she paused on her way back to her room. He looked different in his sleep, she noticed. Younger and strangely innocent. He was snoring lightly, the sound oddly adorable, and the knowledge that she thought of anything having to do with Doyle as 'adorable' filled her with mild panic.
Feeling more confused the longer she watched him, she stared at him one last time, her eyes lingering briefly over his features, before turning away for the sanctuary of her bedroom.
"Not like I need to decide right this instant," she mumbled to herself.
There was always tomorrow.
End.