Doyle muttered another string of expletives as he fumbled with the key to his apartment. Given his less-than-stellar luck lately, the phone would stop ringing about half a second before he picked up the receiver. He finally wrenched the warped wooden door open and lunged for the phone.

“Doyle speakin’, what can I do for ye?” he barked into the receiver, his customary charm leaving him in favor of all-too-familiar frustration.

“Roaches!” wailed a shrieky feminine voice. Doyle’s grimace melted away and a brilliant smile crossed his lips.

“Now, now, Cordy, start at the beginnin’ an’ tell Doyle all about it,” he soothed, letting his Irish accent calm her.

“Icky brown water, and a ruined shirt, and *roaches*!” Cordy sobbed. “They’re everywhere!”

“Call an exterminator,” Doyle suggested, holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder. He sat down on the couch and propped his feet up. “They usually know how ta get rid of those pesky little critters.”

“I did!” Cordelia snapped indignantly. “Do you really think I’m *that* stupid?” she added.

“What did he say?” Doyle asked.

“Well, *I* didn’t call him,” she admitted reluctantly. “I called that little rodent of a super, and he promised he would call.”

“An’ did he?” Doyle prompted, as it seemed Cordy wasn’t going to give out any more details.

“No!” Cordelia moaned. “I just called him and he said that he never got around to it. So now I have all these nasty little creatures scurrying around my apartment floor and I stepped on one and I think I’m going to *yak*!” she wailed.

“Well, my invitation is still standin’,” he offered, unable to keep the hopeful note out of his voice. “If ye want, ye’re welcome ta bed up here.”

“You’re sure?” Cordy asked. Before Doyle could affirm, she was already continuing. “Then I’ll be over in about ten minutes. I expect to have the bed, of course, *without* you in it, and I want food waiting for me. Ta-ta!” she chirped as she hung up.

Doyle hung up and shook his head. “That’s me Cordelia,” he sighed with a rueful grin. He immediately made an effort to pick up the apartment, changing the sheets for her, and called the takeout pizza place. It wasn’t gourmet, but it was food.

About twenty minutes later, he heard knocking on the door. Taking the merest fraction of a second to glance in a mirror and smooth his hair, he propped himself up next to the doorjamb and slowly pulled the door open. Tossing Cordelia a devastatingly sexy smile, he waited for the outpouring of gratitude.

“God, it’s about time you opened the door! I had to wait in that damp, icky hallway *forever*!” Brushing past him, Cordelia breezed into the room, tossing her makeup bag on the couch. “My bags are in the hall. You can get them.”

Doyle rolled his eyes and dutifully grabbed the three suitcases outside his door. “Tell me, Cordelia, how is it ye can carry three suitcases an’ a makeup bag halfway across the city an’ ye can’t bring them inside an apartment?”

“Why should I, when there are able-bodied men like you to do it for me?” she asked sweetly, tossing him a saccharine smile. She picked up the makeup and took it to Doyle’s bedroom, indicating he should bring the rest of her things in after. When he’d set them down, she surveyed the room. “Mmm. I guess it’ll do. It’s only temporary, after all.”

“How long is temporary?” Doyle asked warily. Flirting with her was one thing, having her stay over for a night a wonderful idea, but living with her on a constant basis for who knew how long? Doyle suppressed a shudder.

“Until I find myself a good apartment. It’s not like I really want to stay *here*, with *you*, for longer than I have to,” Cordelia smirked. Doyle bristled.

“I would recommend not insultin’ the man who is about ta provide ye wit a roach-free shelter an’ clean water fer a time,” Doyle retorted.

Cordelia gave him another charming grin. “Silly me. What I meant was, I don’t want to impose on your generosity for longer than I have to,” she corrected herself innocently.

“Who’s the fool who didna want ta cast ye in ‘is commercials, that’s what *I* want ta know,” Doyle muttered as he left the room. “The girly sure can act when she’s of a mind ta.”

Cordelia sat down on the bed, testing it. “Well, the mattress isn’t top quality but I suppose it will do,” she murmured to herself. She inspected the sheets and found them clean, much to her surprise. She hopped off the bed and followed Doyle to the kitchen. “What did you find for food?”

“I called the pizza place down the street. Good food, even if it isn’t from the top restaurants in L.A.,” Doyle replied. Cordelia frowned at the huge pieces of greasy pizza.

“I am so on a diet,” she complained. “That pizza must have a thousand calories in each slice!” she continued. “I can’t eat it.”

“Then don’t,” Doyle said easily, stuffing a slice in his mouth. “But I didna have much else, unless ye’re really itching ta eat black olives out of the can. Or maybe you’d like a coupla beers fer dinner, instead.”

“Eww, no, I don’t *think* so,” she retorted. Gingerly, she picked up a piece. “At least you have the intelligence to order pineapple on it. Most people have no taste when it comes to pizza toppings. They go for the onions and peppers. Hello, can we say bait-breath?”

Doyle appraised her. She hadn’t struck him as the type to appreciate pineapple on a pizza. “I’m impressed,” he said. “I haven’t met anyone yet who could appreciate a good pineapple an’ pepperoni.”

“Is there any other kind worth having?” she asked. Doyle smiled.

“Not so far as I’ve been able ta tell.” He watched her try to delicately eat the slice she had dangling from her hand. “Do ye want a plate ta put that on, Cordy?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. It’s not like I’m really looking forward to scrubbing grease out of my skin for the next millennium,” she said. Doyle grabbed her a paper plate and shrugged apologetically.

“I never got around ta pickin’ out a china pattern, so that’s about all’s I have,” he explained. Cordelia rolled her eyes.

“If that’s all you have then I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” she asked. She laid the slice of pizza down on it and shuddered as the paper turned orange as the grease soaked into it. “Now that’s what I would classify as a major yuck.”

“Cordelia, ye need ta work on yer way of expressin’ gratitude,” Doyle sighed. “Ye don’t know how ta be gracious about ennathin’, do ye?”

“Why should I have to be?” she asked, confused. “People always just did what I wanted them to.”

Doyle sighed again. “Cordelia, ye’re a stunnin’ly beautiful woman. But beauty isn’t enough in this town. There’re too many beautiful people. If ye don’t have ennathin’ else goin’ for ye, ye’re not goin’ ta get ennawhere.”

“Are you implying that I don’t have anything else going for me?” Cordy’s voice raised an octave as she stared at him in disbelief.

“Not at all, not at all. I’m just sayin’ that ye can’t just expect people to do for ye. Ye’ve got to learn ta do for yerself.”

“It didn’t sound like it.” Cordelia was not about to be placated.

“Look, sometimes I don’t know how ta say what it is that I mean. I don’t have that gift for expressin’ meself like ye’ve got.” Doyle teased her just a bit, knowing that Cordelia often had trouble saying things in a way that wouldn’t get her in trouble.

“Well, nobody has what I have, otherwise I wouldn’t be so special,” Cordelia retorted, flipping her hair. Then she glanced sharply at him. “Did you really call me beautiful?”

“Ye’re just now gettin’ around ta rememberin’ that?” Doyle asked incredulously. Cordelia tapped her foot on the wooden floor. “Yes, Cordy, ye’re extremely beautiful. Not like you didna know that already, but ye are.”

“I can’t remember the last time anyone told me that. Well, besides those phony Hollywood types, the ones who say ‘You’re beautiful’ to every person they meet,” Cordy rambled, blushing a bit. Doyle always flirted, it was nothing new to her. But the look in his eyes as he said it. . . Maybe he meant it.

“Now, I don’t believe that fer a second,” Doyle protested. He inched his way closer to Cordelia, heartened when she didn’t move away. “Ye’re too amazin’ a woman not ta be gettin’ showered wit compliments all the time.”

“Well, of course I get compliments,” Cordelia huffed. “I just can’t remember the last time someone said it sincerely.”

“Well, I’m sayin’ it sincerely,” Doyle promised. He reached out and took her hand. She didn’t pull away. “Cordelia, forgive me fer pryin’, but ye seem like ye’re tryin’ too hard to keep somethin’ bottled up inside. Like ye don’t want anyone ta know who ye really are. If ye do that fer too long, then ye’re not goin’ ta know who the real ye is anymore.”

Cordy took a deep breath and gazed at him steadily. “Maybe I am. Maybe being the real me got me hurt one too many times.”

“Who’d dare hurt ye?” Doyle asked softly.

Cordy sat silently, looking inward at her past. “The one person I trusted with the real Cordelia Chase. The person who knew my secrets and my fears. The person who cheated on me without a thought.”

Doyle stared at her, shocked. “Someone cheated on ye? Now who’d go an’ do a fool thing like that?”

“My ex-boyfriend.” Cordy looked at her hands and took a deep breath. “The first guy I dated who became a real boyfriend and not just a toy on my arm. He hung out with Buffy’s crowd. You know Buffy, the Slayer, Angel’s ex-honey?” Doyle nodded. “Well, he and his other best friend, Willow, hung out with Buffy and sort of became her sidekicks. They called themselves the Slayerettes. I was one of them, for a time.” She closed her eyes and let the pain wash over her, then shook her head and focused on Doyle again. “I don’t know what happened. Xander really doesn’t, either. But something just clicked and we threw ourselves at each other. Eventually, we discovered that we really did care about each other. I even told Buffy I loved him. Of course, that was the same night that he started making out with Willow.”

“Ye mean that creep cheated on ye wit his best friend?” Doyle exclaimed. Cordelia nodded.

“Oz, Willow’s boyfriend, and I found out when they got kidnapped by Spike. Remember that blond Billy Idol-wannabe vampire who tortured Angel so he could find that ring?” Doyle nodded. “He kidnapped Willow and Xander, and then locked them up in this old factory. They started kissing, and that’s when Oz and I found them. Oz forgave Willow and they got back together. I never forgave Xander.”

“I don’t blame ye!” Doyle agreed. His handsome face darkened. “I canna believe any man could be idiot enough ta cheat on someone as special as ye. Anyone lucky enough ta get ye should treasure ye wit his life.”

Cordelia’s face got suspiciously warm. “Well, I wouldn’t know. I never had anyone treat me like I was special.”

“Are ye ever goin’ ta let anyone try?” Doyle asked softly, tightening his fingers around hers. Cordelia looked down at their entwined hands. Recklessly, she decided to go for it. She’d been attracted to Doyle for some time but had always assumed that his flirting was second nature and didn’t mean anything. Now she suspected that he actually did care for her.

“Depends on who’s doing the trying,” she conceded with a slight smile. Doyle’s eyes watched her face intently.

“Cordy, ye do know what ye’re doin’ here, don’t ye?” he asked, his voice just a whisper. He looked at her lips and then flicked back up to her eyes, unsure at the sudden warmth he was seeing reflected in them.

“Doyle, I’ve known for a long time,” she whispered back. Unwilling to make the first move, she held back. Doyle took a deep breath and raised his hand to caress her cheek.

“Ye’re beautiful, Cordelia Chase. Too beautiful. Every time I look at ye, I feel like I’m drownin’. I’ve wanted ye ta look at me the same way for a long time. I never thought ye would. Am I right to believe that, or is it possible ye’re changin’ yer mind?”

“Doyle, don’t think anymore,” she commanded softly. And on that note, Doyle bent his head and captured Cordelia’s lips in the sweetest kiss she could ever remember. Even Xander’s tender kisses hadn’t made her feel so cared about. With Xander, it had been about mutual passion. Eventually they’d come to care about each other beyond getting lip-locked. But Cordelia, as well as everyone else in close proximity, knew that Willow held his heart. It was just a matter of time before he realized it, too. With Doyle, she truly felt like she was the one he cared about, the one he desired. She wasn’t a substitution for anyone else.

Cordelia melted into Doyle’s warm and tender kiss. She gave herself up to the pressure of his lips on hers. Sighing, she wound her fingers through his dark, unruly hair, wrapping the tendrils around her fingers. Doyle, in turn, placed his hands on her waist and pulled her towards him. They kissed hungrily for several minutes, breaking apart only to get air and then coming together again. When they finally broke apart, they stared at each other.

“Cordelia,” Doyle whispered. His lips tingled, his breathing was ragged. “Please tell me ye meant that and it wasn’t about avenging some stupid ex-boyfriend.”

“Doyle, that was all about you,” Cordelia assured him. “It wasn’t about Xander. I promise.”

“Then why don’t we continue someplace more comfortable than me kitchen?” he offered with a charming grin. She smiled up at him and turned, ready to go into the living room, when Doyle surprised her.

“Doyle! What are you doing?” she shrieked playfully as he put one arm around her back, knelt, and hooked the other arm under her knees. When he stood up, he swept her legs out from underneath her.

“I’m carrying ye ta the bedroom, as any decent man would do fer a lady,” he informed her. She snuggled her face into his chest, hearing the thumping of his heart beneath her cheek.

“A decent man wouldn’t take a lady to his bedroom on the first night,” Cordelia half-heartedly protested, a Cheshire-cat grin blooming on her face.

“Get yer mind out of the gutter,” Doyle admonished, a contented smile settling over his lips. “I’m only goin’ ta kiss ye senseless for a few long hours, and then ye’re going to be right by me side as I fall asleep. I care about ye too much ta do ennathin’ else right now.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused. “Don’t you want me?”

“Cordy, me love, of course I want ye. But we can wait. We have plenty of time ta go there. Right now I just want ye near me. It’s a nice feeling waking up with someone ye care about in yer arms. I haven’t felt that way for a long time. I want to again.”

And as Doyle laid her down on the bed, Cordy realized that she wanted to, as well. She hadn’t let herself hurt when she and Xander broke up, but she missed being held. As Doyle proceeded to honor his promise and kiss her senseless, she let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, she’d finally found that love that her friends always seemed to find. “Thank you, Doyle,” she whispered as he nibbled along her jawline.

“What’s that, Cordelia?” he asked, propping himself on one arm and gazing down at her lovely face.

“For giving me a reason to believe.”

Doyle didn’t understand, but he smiled just the same. “Anytime, Cordelia me love, anytime.”