“Can’t we get another hour?” he begged. Looking at the clock, he complained, “My God, man, it’s only eight in the mornin’. We’re not even in at nine, usually. What’s the hurry this mornin’?”

“Xander’s here.”

“Oh, ye’ll be wantin’ ta find out if I’m the kid’s brother,” Doyle realized. Eyes widening, he turned to Cordelia, hoping that she had not heard him. He sighed in relief as he saw her eyes were closed and her breathing was deep. Lovingly pushing a tumbled curl off of her forehead, he turned his attention back to the conversation.

“Yeah, I was hoping that we could maybe straighten this out. The sooner we figure out who Xander’s brother is, the sooner we can go back to our regular routine,” Angel admitted.

“Yeah, an’ the sooner I have ta tell Cordelia what I am,” Doyle grumbled. Sighing in resignation, he flipped the bedspread off his torso and swung his legs to the floor. “I’ll be there in ‘bout twenty minutes or so, okay, Chief?”

“That’s fine,” Angel said, his mind already jumping ahead to how they would figure out if Doyle and Xander were brothers. “On second thought, I don’t want Cordelia here today. Tell her she has the day off.”

“She’ll be thrilled,” Doyle said. He started pulling on a clean pair of jeans, finding it difficult to pull them up around his waist one-handed. “Angel, man, it’s hard to dress an’ talk at the same time, se I’m goin’ ta let ye go. I’ll talk ta ye when I get ta the office.”

“All right. Get here quick,” Angel instructed, then hung up without waiting for a response. Doyle tossed the phone down on the bed and walked quickly over to the dresser. He pulled out a pair of socks and a gray T-shirt, then hopped back over to the bed while he tried to put the socks on. He didn’t see one of the glossy magazines Cordelia had thrown on the floor, and landed with a thud when he skidded on it and lost his balance.

“Doyle, what is going on?” Cordelia asked grumpily, turning over and staring at him. A slight smile came unbidden to her face when she saw him sprawled out on the floor, clad in his jeans and a single sock.

“Just me, breakin’ a few bones,” Doyle moaned as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head. “I suppose it might not occur ta ye that I might benefit from some lovin’ care there, would it now?”

“Not at eight in the morning,” she laughed, turning back over and burying her head in the pillow. Doyle glared at her as he pulled himself to his feet.

“I’m goin’ ta the office now,” he said sourly, pulling on the second sock and then yanking the shirt over his dark head.

“I’ll see you in a couple hours, then,” she mumbled from the recesses of the pillow.

“Actually, Angel said ye can have the day off,” Doyle told her, secretly relieved that she would not be there for the unveiling of Xander’s brother, whom he grudgingly admitted sounded an awful lot like himself. He headed for the bathroom and picked up his toothbrush, waiting for Cordelia’s expression of joy.

“It’s about time!” Cordelia exclaimed. “I’m going shopping with Mother, then,” she informed him. “She wants to look at bridesmaid dresses.”

“I still canna believe ye’re asking Kate ta be yer maid of honor,” Doyle said, shaking his head.

“She’s safer than Buffy,” Cordelia reasoned. “There’s the attraction between Angel and Kate, but it won’t go anywhere because Kate won’t let the working relationship turn into an extracurricular one, and Angel knows they can never be together so he won’t get close to her. Buffy, on the other hand, presents a myriad of problems.”

“Good thinkin’. But ye’re asking Buffy and that Willow girl ta be in it, se won’t that be a problem?” Doyle asked, coming out of the bathroom, slipping on his watch and grabbing his wallet.

“They won’t have to be near each other, not really,” Cordelia explained. “You know the pairing up of the wedding party-best man with maid of honor. If Kate is the maid of honor and not Buffy, then they won’t have to walk together. They both know that it won’t work between them, so they can just avoid each other.”

“Well, if it makes sense ta ye, then I won’t question ye ennamore,” Doyle promised, leaning over to kiss Cordelia on the forehead. He had learned long ago that if he tried to give her a real kiss, she’d holler something about morning breath. “I’m goin’ now, Princess. I’ll call ye sometime this afternoon, all right?”

“Won’t be here,” she reminded him. “I’ll call you at work and give you the number to Mother’s cell phone. She smiled radiantly up at him and he smiled back softly, thinking how much he loved her and how beautiful she was, even rumpled and half-asleep. “I love you, Allen Francis Doyle,” she mumbled, as a way of good-bye.

“I love ye too, Cordelia Chase,” he said, tucking the covers back around her, letting her fall back asleep. He moved quietly through the apartment and then out the front door. Doyle waited on the corner for the light to change, then walked quickly across the street and over two blocks. Looking up at the nondescript building that housed Angel Investigations, he took a deep breath and climbed the front stairs, determined that whatever they found out, he would not let anything take Cordelia away from him.