TITLE: Blood (1/1)

DISCLAIMER: Everyone belongs to Joss Whedon and all those XF folk who write, produce and direct A:TS, wisely defected to the show that is, from the show that was.

FEEDBACK: only my second post, so PLEASE! is an understatement.

RATING: G

SPOILERS: Small reference to the Angel ep with his childe Penn

CATEGORY: Doyle/Cordelia, but kinda also A/C

SUMMARY: fluff really...maybe a hint of a dark side to Doyle, cause it's there, trust me, I'm Irish <G>

DISTRIBUTION: anywhere, ask first?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Doyle's around, he's dating Cordy, but this is part of a series that will ultimately be A/C, cause well...it's inevitable :>

DEDICATION: This is for Kelly, who is such a cool friend she takes time out from triplets with the flu to read fic for a ship she isn't yet aboard, and pointed out (sigh) that Angel doesn't call Cordelia 'Cordy', yet.

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Cordelia tilted her head to one side as she surveyed the scene before her.

Angel was prone on the floor under her desk, a sharp implement in his hand, eyes narrowed in concentration. Doyle was on his knees at his side, unraveling what looked like miles of cabling that entangled them both.

"Guys, I'm late for my audition. Are you going to be ok?"

"You want a ride Princess?"

Cordelia looked distracted for a second.

"What? Oh, no...that's ok...where's my lipstick? _Angel_! That's Maybelline's finest frosty plum! It is NOT a suitable prop to hold up the table!"

Angel smiled sheepishly up at Cordelia as he handed her the lipstick, then covertly substituted it with her mascara. Her make up kit was the only thing he could reach from his current position, and he needed to hold up the table just enough to run the wire under it.

"Okay, see you guys later, be good!"

She disappeared outside into the sunshine. Doyle and Angel turned their attention to installing the wiring for a discreet little alarm button under Cordy's desk. The fact that Penn had been alone with her for so long, with Angel oblivious downstairs, had bothered him a lot. Especially since he spent so much of the day asleep. This way if anyone came in while Cordelia was up here alone she just had to quietly press the button and he'd be there.

He and Doyle worked well together, and in an hour it was all but finished, the wiring hidden from view by a well placed potted plant. They were about to test it when they were interrupted by the telephone, Doyle grabbed the receiver.

"Angel Investigations...hopeless 'n all that"

Angel mock-glared at Doyle who shrugged with a trademark grin, then his face changed as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line.

"Uh...Cordelia left already...ok, bye."

He hung up, a frown creased his features.

"Doyle?"

"That was for Cordy...where did she say she was going again?"

"An audition. 3pm. Yogurt."

"Right. That was Los Altos Medical Center - they wanted Cordelia to come back for her purse, which she left there, after her 3 o'clock appointment."

Angel's brow furrowed.

"I guess that's why she didn't want you to give her a ride."

"Why would she lie? I don't get that."

Doyle looked like he couldn't decide whether to be hurt and worried, or just mad. Angel put a hand on his shoulder for a second.

"Don't worry about it Doyle - maybe she had a routine check up or something."

"Angel - no offense man, but since when did her health insurance cover routine check ups? And I know she has no money to spare. Something's going on, I should just go there, maybe she needs me."

Angel shook his head.

"It's none of our business, and if you confront her you'll scare her. Just let her tell us in her own time. Come on - let's see if we can't fix up this mess before she gets back."

Doyle nodded reluctantly.

"It's just - she's my girlfriend, shouldn't we talk about stuff like that?"

Angel looked a little irritated.

"It's only been a few weeks Doyle, it's not like you're engaged, she's entitled to privacy."

"It's been over a month-"

"And this is LA, it's not Ireland, Cordelia isn't going to take kindly to too much possessiveness. You don't own her."

Doyle opened his mouth to protest, then stopped, puzzled by Angel's hostility on the subject. Maybe it was difficult for Angel now that he and Cordy were dating, a little awkward maybe. He decided to let it go for now.

They tested out the buzzer, it worked perfectly. Cordelia breezed in just as Angel was coming back up in the elevator.

"Hey guys."

Doyle slouched against the desk watching his girlfriend.

"So how was the audition?"

"Fine, I think...I dunno, never been a huge yogurt fan, until today of course."

She shrugged and flashed a big smile at Doyle.

He folded his arms across his chest.

"You got your bag then?"

"What? Oh yeah, left it behind, must have been nervous."

She paused for a second, looking at Doyle curiously. Regarding the pair from the elevator Angel felt his heart sink. Doyle was pushing too far, and the scene could get unpleasant very fast.

"How did you know I..."

Angel broke in, stepping between them.

"Y'know, I was thinking, today - when I was on the floor, that we should really do something about the ceiling in here."

They stared at him. "The ceiling?"

"Yeah - look - it's got this great little ornate thing going on in the corners, but it's all dusty and dirty, and we could clean it up, maybe get a coat of paint - it just doesn't look very professional."

"Hmm, you're right..."

Cordelia and Angel eyed the ceiling critically.

Doyle sighed. "Right then. I'll go pick up paint 'n whatever."

He left abruptly, slamming the door. Cordelia looked after him then turned to look up at Angel.

"What's going on? Did you guys lose the battle with the wiring?"

"Uh...no, it works great...why don't you go downstairs and I'll show you."

Cordy complied, but still looked a little unsettled.

She reached the basement just as the buzzer went off. Angel appeared a few moments later.

"Well?"

"Hmm yes, very buzzy."

Angel looked at her for a second, considering his words carefully. He was just as concerned as Doyle about the mysterious Doctor's appointment, but he was very aware of overstepping boundaries. He didn't want Cordelia to feel pressured in any way.

"Cordelia, are you feeling ok? I mean, I know we've been working long hours recently, often through the night, and things can get pretty scary sometimes..."

She favored him with a classic Cordelia what-are-you-smoking stare. Angel faltered.

"I mean...well...it's just, if it was getting too much, if you need a break, I'd understand."

Her expression dissolved into hurt. She blinked and looked down for a second. Angel's heart plummeted.

"I didn't mean that, Cordy, I don't want you to take a break...I mean, I- I just worry about you, that's all, am I working you too hard? You'd tell me right?"

He dipped his head a little and peered at her from under lowered lashes, slipping into vulnerable-face, hoping she wasn't mad, or worse still hurt by his clumsy words. It worked. She came over to him and placed a hand on his arm.

"I'm fine, Angel. I'd tell you if I wasn't, c'mon you know that!"

He smiled at her in relief and placed his hand over hers.

"Do you know something Angel?"

"What?" he breathed, affected by her nearness.

"That's the first time you called me Cordy."

She held his gaze for a second, then turned and went back into the elevator.

"Oh, and Angel?"

He followed her, lacing his fingers through the mesh of the elevator gate.

"Yes?"

"Save the puppy dog eyes for the blonds."

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Doyle returned, his arms full of painting equipment and cleaning chemicals.

They set to work in the dwindling daylight, standing on impromptu towers of chairs and the desk, until Cordelia fluttered her eyelashes at the dentist next door and procured a ladder. She disappeared downstairs to search for sheets to cover the furniture, which resulted in a good natured skirmish with Angel regarding exactly why he only owned really expensive fabric that couldn't possibly have paint-drop adornments. There was a brief tussle, a loud rip, and thus Angel now owned a sheet that could best be used to cover the furniture. By now the ceiling was clear of dust and cobwebs, and they were ready to begin painting.

"I want a turn!"

"Princess, I thought you were gonna hold the ladder for me."

"It's boring. There's only so long I can stare at your butt for. Let me up there!"

"Hey does that mean I get to stare at your butt instead? I suddenly like this plan!"

Cordelia raised a provocative eyebrow at Doyle as he descended the ladder, smirking.

"Fine. Whatever. I want the roller thing."

He handed her the paint roller, unable to keep the grin from his face. Angel watched them from his perch atop the chair-desk tower, trying to shake the irrational sense of unease which filled him. Cordy grabbed the roller and climbed the steps, pausing to drip paint onto Doyle's upturned face.

"Hey! No fair, I'm pale enough thanks!"

Cordelia giggled, and climbed higher. She reached the top rung and blinked a few times.

"High ceilings. That's good I think, in my parent's house, before..."

Angel watched as her grip on the top of the ladder tightened as she tried to straighten up to reach the roller to the ceiling. It never made it, nor did she finish her sentence. Instead she swayed a little and her eyes became unfocused.

"Cordelia!"

Doyle glanced at Angel, alarmed by the fear in his voice. Cordelia dropped her hand with the roller to her side and let her head fall forward to rest against her white knuckled grip on the ladder.

"Doyle - she's going to fall!"

Doyle was already rapidly ascending the ladder. He caught Cordelia around the waist as her limp body began to fall backwards, and just managed to hold on to absorb the inertia of her fall without losing his own grip. The ladder threatened to topple but Angel had leapt to the ground and caught it firmly.

"Doyle? Have you got her?"

"It's okay man, just give me a second."

He slowly came down two steps, his body shaking with sudden adrenaline.

"Doyle - let me take her, okay, careful."

Angel gently lifted Cordelia from Doyle's unsteady grasp, taking her into his arms as Doyle all but slid down the rest of the ladder, and collapsed at the bottom.

"Man. That was," Doyle paused to catch his breath "close. And scary."

Angel lowered himself to the floor beside Doyle. He cradled Cordelia in his lap, not taking his eyes off her.

"Cordelia? Cordy?"

She blinked. "Angel? What... happened?"

Her eyes closed again as if the effort of keeping them open was too much.

It was Doyle who answered her, leaning in.

"You must have passed out love. Maybe climbed too quickly, or it's the paint fumes or something. Gave us quite a scare."

Her eyes opened and met Angel's worried frown.

"I'm ok, just...got dizzy, I guess... I'm sorry, guys."

Her voice was a little breathless, but the color was returning to her cheeks, and she tried to sit up. Angel moved so his hand supported her lower back and he helped her up, then to lean back against his chest.

"Easy, take it slow."

His murmur was low, his whole demeanor badly shaken. For his part Doyle felt like his nerves had shattered, it had happened so fast, if she'd fallen...

he reached over and took her hand, squeezing it tenderly.

"Are you ok Princess?"

Cordy nodded.

"Just need to sit here for a moment, I don't know what came over me. Paint fumes maybe?"

"Cordelia - did you eat anything today?"

She squirmed uncomfortably in Angel's arms, and didn't answer.

"Cordy?"

She sighed dramatically.

"Ok, so maybe I skipped lunch."

"And breakfast?"

Angel's quiet tone made her squirm all the more.

"Maybe, but hello? I can't go to a _yogurt_ audition fat! Anyway that's not why I got dizzy. It was paint fumes, and cleaning chemical nastiness, that's all. I'm fine now."

To prove her point she pulled away from Angel and got to her feet, a little unsteadily.

"See? Now can we do more ceiling before the paint dries up?"

Angel and Doyle had followed Cordy up, hovering anxiously in case she showed any signs of swaying again. But she stood her ground determinedly.

Beside him, Angel felt Doyle tense up and knew he was about to confront Cordy, his fear for her intermingled with tension, confusion, and a shade of anger. Not a good combination. Especially with Cordelia still a little shaky.

Doyle's jaw was set as he took a step forward, reaching out to cup her elbow.

"What's going on Cordelia?"

She looked at him, surprised by the intensity of the question.

"Nothing's going on. I'm okay now."

"You're lying."

He spat out the accusation.

"I don't like being lied to Cordelia, especially not when it's my girlfriend."

She stared at him in amazement.

"Doyle, I...I'm not lying, and nothing's going on, I don't know what you're talking about - maybe you had too much paint fumes too!"

Her attempt at a smile faded when she met his eyes again. They were hard and unyielding. She looked to Angel, bewildered. He heard her silent plea for intervention, and put a gentle hand on Doyle's shoulder.

"Doyle, this isn't the time or the place. Let's get Cordelia downstairs and into bed or something, and we'll talk about it when we've calmed down."

"Oh I'm calm." His tone was icy. "And Cordelia here's just fine apparently, just *peachy*."

Cordy's eyes widened in shock, and just a little fear now. His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, just to assert his hold.

"What's _wrong_ Doyle? You're scaring me, stop it!"

The tremor in her voice broke through Doyle's anger and he dropped his hand, and his eyes. Angel's even tone quietly insinuated itself into the tension between them.

"Let's go downstairs, have some coffee or something, okay?"

They nodded. Pale and unsteady on her feet, Cordy brushed past them and disappeared into the elevator. Doyle and Angel stood for a moment.

"Look man, I appreciate your help, but I'd rather deal with her alone, maybe she'll talk if it's just me y'know?"

Angel privately disagreed, but couldn't be sure if he wasn't just uncomfortable with accepting the new relationship between his two best friends, and didn't want to believe that she would tell Doyle stuff she couldn't or wouldn't tell Angel.

"Ok, but... go easy on her ok?"

He nodded tacitly.

"No, Doyle I _mean_ it. Tone it down. Way down. You had us both pretty nervous a moment ago, and she's not up for handling hostility like that right now."

"I get it Angel." He held up his hands. "I overreacted - I was scared - kid gloves from now on."

Angel sighed in relief.

"I'll wait up here then, paint a ceiling. Make sure she eats something."

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Downstairs Doyle settled Cordy in bed with some water. He was helping her take off her cardigan when he noticed something else that made his blood chill. He leaned over and closed his hand around her wrist, then gently turned her arm until the little band aid in the crook of her elbow was on display.

"Where did you go today Cordy?"

She took a deep breath.

"Ok, I'll tell you, but you gotta promise not to tell Angel, 'kay?"

He nodded. She waited, so he made a little cross-my-heart sign, then she seemed satisfied.

"I went to the clinic - they were having a blood drive, and ok, I KNOW it's dumb, cause I _know_ Angel goes to the abatoire, not hospitals, but I just feel like, like...I dunno, that since I work for a vampire, it's kinda my duty?"

She shrugged and looked up at Doyle sheepishly. He just stared.

"You gave blood?"

She nodded.

"And...that's it? You gave blood?"

"Well, yeah. No big deal. I kinda lied a little when they asked if I had a dangerous occupation, but that's all. Oh and I guess I got a little bit fuzzy on the ladder cause I didn't eat anything today - but Hello? Mellow Melba - I can't be fat for a _yogurt_ audition!"

Doyle sat down heavily on the bed.

"So you did have an audition?"

"Course! What did you think I just made that up?"

"No! Well, maybe - the clinic called us when you left your bag - we were worried Princess."

He hugged her suddenly.

"I'm so glad you're ok, I should tell Angel right away - I know he's just as frighten-"

"No! I can't tell Angel! It's....icky, it's too....like well if I wanted to help why go to a clinic, when he's right here needing blood, but"

She didn't need to finish, an involuntary shudder ran through Doyle at the image suddenly in his head.

"Ok, ok...we won't tell him, I see your point, could be a tad awkward."

He shifted on the bed and gathered her into his arms once more.

"Don't ever scare me like that again sweetheart. I couldn't stand it And you've got to eat something."

He pulled back and carefully looked his girlfriend over.

"Did it hurt?"

She shook her head, touched by his concern.

"How do you feel now? Still dizzy?"

"No, I'm fine Doyle, I really am. I did it before - in High School, as soon as we were old enough because we had a theory that it would help us lose weight...but then after..."

She paused, remembering the dark time in hospital after being impaled, the concomitant events of breaking up with Xander and consequent loss of her tenuous acceptance into the Scooby gang, and even while she was waiting, months, even years later, for results of blood tests to see if she had developed any nasty infection, around her the world was crumbling, thanks to the IRS...everything was connected, and it was the last thing she wanted to think about, much less talk about.

...well, I couldn't again until now."

Doyle seemed to accept that. Another hug, then he went to fetch some food for her, and she wrapped her arms around her knees, feeling loved, feeling accepted, and _needed_. God she loved LA.

**********************

After a little while sitting with Cordy, stealing her chips, stealing kisses, and just generally reassuring himself that she was indeed perfectly fine, Doyle returned upstairs.

"Everything ok?"

Angel's inquiry was carefully casual, he didn't look down from the ceiling when Doyle came in.

"Uh yeah - she's fine, completely fine. We talked. I don't think she wants me to go into details, but it's really nothing Angel. She just needed to eat something."

Angel seemed to blithely accept this. He kept on painting. In truth he was more assured of Cordy's health by Doyle's relaxed manner, and the absence of even a trace of tension in his voice. But it still disturbed him to not be party to the 'details' - since when could she not trust him? He sighed inwardly. Rationally he understood that building intimacy in a relationship naturally involved the exclusion of others. But what he didn't like was admitting that there really was the beginnings of a serious relationship there. And he didn't like being the 'other' that defined the couplehood of his two best friends in the world.

They worked together on the ceiling. Not speaking, but falling into an easy rhythm, so absorbed that they didn't even notice when Cordelia appeared.

It was a warm evening, and apparently warm work, they both had taken their shirts off, and their chests and hair were flaked with paint. She stood at the top of the stairs, watching them work, sub-consciously touching her fingertips to her lips.

Finally she could resist no more, and let out a low appreciative whistle.

"Cordelia!"

"Hi guys, love the paint job."

She grinned, her eyes on them rather than the ceiling.

"Shouldn't you be resting Princess?"

"I'm bored. Can't I stay up here and help you?"

"How are you feeling?"

Angel's voice was quiet, but his eyes were intense and hooded as he came over to her. It was all Cordy could do to resist reaching out just one finger to touch his finely sweat sheened chest. She dragged her eyes up to his face and the concern there surprised her. Compromising, she reached for his hand instead.

"I'm fine Angel."

Doyle came up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist.

"Ok, Angel and I can do the ceiling though. You, and the ice-cream in the fridge, are going to go rest."

Cordy tried her best to pout, but Doyle was insistent, and Angel looked ready to pick her up again at the first sign of resistance, so she agreed, and was soon installed in Angel's office, away from the paint fumes, but within earshot if she needed anything. Not that anyone needs anything more than chocolate mint peanut butter crunch Cordelia mused. Well, that and the devoted attentions of a couple of gorgeous men didn't hurt either. She sighed happily.

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The end.