Buffy Anne Summers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
proactive_with_pep) wrote2018-08-19 10:13 am
proactive_with_pep) wrote2018-08-19 10:13 am
TFLN + GEN TEXTS + MEME OVERFLOW
She can slay many a thing but captcha is not one of them. Leave your baggage here.
She can slay many a thing but captcha is not one of them. Leave your baggage here.
no subject
he knows he's got the right room even if she hadn't told him, because her scent grows stronger, more noticeable through the miriad others permeating the hallway. and he can sense her, that rush up his spine and pooling in his stomach of power-danger-irresistible he always gets from her.
yeah, this is a really bad idea. he knocks anyway. as soon as the door opens, and he's confronted with her, Angel can't help but start to smile. it's still painful, seeing her and knowing what he gave up, but he's here, and she's here, and they aren't yelling or arguing, so it's good. ] Hi.
[ his brow furrows for second, glancing at the doorway itself. ] I'm...not actually sure. [ reaching his hand out, he meets resistance, and sighs a little. ] Yeah, I guess so.
no subject
watching Angel hit the invisible barrier makes her smile wider. not because he can't get in, but all other vamps can't. a small comfort. )
That answers that, and oh! Oh! I get to tell Giles about my supernatural finding. ( proudly, and a little distracted. though without mentioning the finer details of how she knows. ) Bet he has no idea, 'cos he's never been in a dorm. At least I don't think he has? He was big on the dark magic and punk rock and right! You need an invite to come in, so, Angel, come inside. ( once she remembers she steps out of the way, against the door so he can get in. when he is, she checks the hallway out of habit before closing it. and only closing it. no locking of any kind is happening. an unlocked door will serve as a reminder Willow or someone else could walk in at any moment.
moving to the beds she gathers the books up, clearing a spot on hers for him to sit before claiming Willow's by dumping her stuff unceremoniously onto it. and then parking herself on it. )
So... how was the drive? I know it's late... early... late for everyone else, early for you, but traffic is a thing. Especially in LA. ( another habit; babbling. and one she's not too fond of when it's mostly awkward. )
no subject
he always feels so big when he's near Buffy, awkward and cumbersome, and it's no different now, as he tries to walk through the doorway, stay as far away from her as possible, while trying to make it look like he's not consciously avoiding touching her. once he's inside the room, he's not really sure what to do. it's clear which bed is Buffy's - even without the books, her scent is stronger, although he can smell Willow in the whole room, too; it's both irritating to his primal senses because it dilutes Buffy's scent, while also being comforting, because he likes Willow, no matter how she might currently feel about him.
hesitantly moving to the spot she cleared, Angel slowly sits down, and can't help how his body immediately relaxes. he sits, and watches her, and listens, and he can't get rid of the fond little smile even if he tried. so he doesn't. ]
It was fine. [ he's not--okay, he is laughing at her a little, but he appreciates that she's feeling just as awkward as he is; which ironically makes him feel less awkward. ] I had to let Cordelia know I was leaving the city, so I'm sure she's gonna give me the third degree when I get back, but--I just-- [ he sighed, glancing down. he reaches over and pulls her pillow over, plucking at the case and enjoying the plume of scent it releases every time. ] I think I just-- needed to get out, get away, for a while. It's not like I'm stuck in my apartment all the time, but... [ he glances at her ruefully from under his lashes. ] It's not like I'm going out for social calls or parties every night, either.
[ Doyle was good at getting him to go out, he thinks, a scowl slowly forming. Cordelia's brand of teasing him to go out is a little too mean-spirited half the time, and Wesley's so eager to stick around, he wouldn't dare say something to offend Angel. ]
no subject
scratch that. he's absolutely the same Angel she's known.
watching him pick up her pillow, she wonders if he'd have gone for Mister Gordo if he was in arms reach. the memory of catching him after climbing through her window one night, cradling the small pink pig in those large arms brings a warm smile to her face. )
Are you going to tell her where you went? ( it's taken some time to process but, knowing Angel has Cordelia there, in LA with him, working alongside ─ for him, oddly enough reassures Buffy when she starts to worry about him. which happens often. knowing he has someone ─ a friend he can trust, and who isn't going to stab him in the back the first chance they get, is a comfort.
pulling her legs up and sitting criss-cross applesauce style on Willow's bed, Buffy's soft expression shifts; her smile teasing, as are her words. he looks like he could use some. in the good matured way. not at all mean. ) Not every night, but a few nights a week. Gotcha. ( she winks, but can't hold the small laugh back. she remembers him at the Bronze. the lurking from the shadows and never truly mingling with anyone but her. for the life of her she can't picture him schmoozing it up at parties, even LA ones. )
Are they at least better than the parties here? ( the ones where ancient demon pieces are assembled, or where a stupid mask rises the dead to crash your house and destroy all your furniture, or the newest one... ) Where frat guys host a Halloween party and accidentally summon a fear demon and bring out the worst fears of every guest in attendance? ( is that oddly specific? sure is. ) Not to make you jealous or anything. ( she knows she knows all the cool people, Angel. this isn't her rubbing it in his nose. ) College has been an...experience. To put it mildly. Did I tell you, Willow wasn't my first roommate? The first one was taken back to her dimension. ( see? she will never have a normal life. no matter how hard she tries for the experience, it just isn't in the cards for her. )
no subject
[ he gives a little self-deprecating shrug, a smile tugging at his lips to show he's making fun of himself: ] But not Friday or Saturday nights. Those are reserved for sitting in the dark and staring into the distance. I can't have people thinking I'm fun, or something.
The last party I went to... [ he frowns a little. ] Was actually... a bachelor party for Doyle's ex-wife. Which turned out her fiancee wanted to eat Doyle's brain, as part of a ritualistic sacrifice for a strong marriage, or... it was weird. People wonder why I prefer to stay at home.
[ he's sadly not surprised at her own specific party story, but shakes his head. ] Why does stuff keep happening to you on Halloween? I mean, even the whole costume thing wasn't Spike, he was just--along for the chaos ride. But Halloween's supposed to be quiet! [ he's oddly worked up about it and offended--or rather, Angelus is offended, and for once Angel agrees with his literal inner demon.
he can't even muster up the energy to look surprised when she mentions her first roommate, and being taken back to her own dimension. ] Demon? [ he asks casually. on the one hand, they're talking shop, but on the other hand, they're catching up on each other's lives, and 'shop-talk' isn't really something either of them can leave at the office when they clock out for the night. ]
no subject
once she's recovered, and the books are opened to their last read spots (courtesy of the way she folded the entire middle of each page needed), she glances back at him, amused. ) Oh no, you can't have that. Just imagine what all the demons and the forces of darkness would say if they knew you had a social life? Your brooding rep would be no more. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. ( she makes an X over her heart. finishing it off with making a show of sealing her lips and tossing the key over her shoulder. )
Is it weird that I think the, well, the weirdest part of the whole thing is not the brain eating ritual, but Doyle having been invited to his ex-wife's fiance's bachelor party? ( she's just putting Angel and her in those shoes. friends or not, and despite her knowing she won't have a fiance, she can't imagine inviting Angel to anything to do with a new beau. )
Hey, don't ask me, I'm just as clueless as the rest of you why Halloween never stays quiet. If I knew how to fix it, I would. I get one night off a year and it never goes as planned. ( it's true. she has no idea why Halloween ends up being exactly what it shouldn't be. ) At least I'm there to make sure it doesn't get any worse? ( she shrugs, trying to see the bright side of Halloween going to Hell in a hand basket for her. )
Yeah. Big ole demon. Although not big in the... ( she makes a tall gesture with her hands. ) ...big sense. But she was powerful and old. She was stealing pieces of my soul each night, causing me to go a little crazy. ( to put it mildly. ) I knew she was evil from the beginning, but did anyone listen to me? Nope. But I had all the evidence right there. I mean the girl labeled all of her eggs with her name, ironed her jeans and she made me log phone calls.
Sad part is, still not the weirdest thing to happen to me in college thus far. ( she admits, tone serious. while all the weird has been oddly comforting, it's the one normal experience she wishes she didn't have. and that is one thing she will never tell him about. ever. )
no subject
he'd know she caught his slip just from the way her heart starts beating faster, even if she hadn't started fidgeting and trying very hard to look casual as she determinedly doesn't look at him. great. good job. he stays silent, pretending not to notice, only reacting once she promises not to reveal his non-brooding secret, smiling fondly at her. (he can't help it, he doesn't just love Buffy, he likes her; there's definitely a difference, and he's glad he still enjoys just being around her.)
it's not that it doesn't hurt to talk about Doyle, but he finds it surprisingly cathartic to share some of his memories of the man with her. ] Oh, there was a lot of weird about the whole thing. First of all, we didn't even know he was married. I mean, still married, Harry showed up to ask him to sign the divorce papers. And then Ken - the fiancee - comes in and we learn that he is the fiancee. And he was so... weirdly chipper and friendly. [ his tone indicates that he found it at least mildly creepy. ] Harry and Doyle... didn't exactly part the best of friends, but they'd been best friends, and meeting Ken, it kinda made sense that he'd want to get to know Doyle, as someone Harry was still fond of, even if their marriage hadn't worked. So, it was weird, but not as weird as you'd expect.
Actually, thinking about it, the ritual sacrifice was about the least weird thing about it all. The whole family was very Leave it to Beaver but, demons. [ ...God he hopes she knows that reference.
Angel picks at, and then forces himself to stop picking at the pillowcase, focusing on it so he doesn't say the first thing he thinks, which is you shouldn't have to deal with Halloween on top of everything else. who else will? he hates that Buffy can't even have one night off. ]
In my experience, losing your soul'll do that to you.
[ it pops out of his mouth before he can register it; he's too used to talking to Cordelia, Doyle and now Wesley, being casual and making jokes about serious subjects to give them less weight. but with Buffy especially, he can't just joke about losing his soul and not have a thousand awful memories and associations pop up, for both of them.
wrapping his arms under the pillow, Angel folds down and buries his head in it on his lap, pressing the pillow firmly against his face, wishing he actually needed to breathe so he had the chance of suffocating himself. ]
no subject
I'm sorry, Doyle's ex-wife was named Harry? ( she takes it back. that might be the weirdest thing about all this. unless Harry was short for Harriet, in which case, never mind. ) Are you guys sure Ken wasn't trying to butter up Doyle to get on his good side to get his...brains. ( there's no hiding the way her face scrunches up at saying that. it's gross to think about, let alone say! at least vampires only drank blood. that she could deal with. guts and every other organ made her own stomach turn.
she gets the reference, thanks to her mother. but she really can't resist pretending she has no clue what he's talking about, shooting him a perfectly executed look of confusion. ) What was left to beavers? ( and her face stays the part, until he makes a joke.
a joke she doesn't laugh at. and she can tell it's a joke. but it doesn't land the way he might have expected it to. or how he knows it would have landed with Wesley or Cordy. it leaves her in shock, because it's a little too dark. cuts a little too deep and she freezes momentarily, going pale with her gaze fixed on him. watching him she realizes he seems horrified by it, noting his joke missed the mark by burying his face in the pillow. and, as someone who's been a teenage girl (still a teenage girl just not like that) with a flair for the dramatics, she knows what he's doing. )
I can tell you really have been going to LA parties. You picked up their dark humor. ( she's smiling now, though. reassuring him that it's all right. he made a blunder. it's allowed. reaching for Willow's pillow people, Buffy lightly sails it across the small space to bump Angel precisely where she aimed it; across the top of his bowed head. ) That's my favorite pillow. If you squeeze the feathers out of it we're gonna have words. ( she warns. shifting onto her stomach, lower legs bent up and behind her in the air, Buffy draws the books closer to her, watching him from a side glance. ) And I don't wanna have words since words are distracting and I seriously need to study these words... ( she tap the open text book with the eraser of her pencil. ) ...or I'm going to fail. And I cannot fail. Otherwise Professor Walsh is going to chew me up and spit me out just to grind me into an even sadder pulp before making me take the test again.
format change, bc I do what I want
Angel groans into the pillow, leaning until he's flopped lengthwise on her bed (but consciously keeps his feet over the side, since he's still wearing his shoes), all the while keeping the pillow pressed to his face. "I shouldn't be allowed to speak, nothing good ever comes from it," he says, his words muffled through the pillow, but still pitched just loud enough she should be able to make them out.
She doesn't seem... too horrified, though, so Angel cautiously lifts the corner of the pillow to peek at her. "No, this is part of my regular sense of humor. It's just the tasteless part, so I try not to show it."
He watches her settle in to study, slowly shifting the pillow around until it's under his head instead of over it. Toeing off his shoes, he shifts until he's laying on his side, one arm tucked under the pillow and the other tucked against his chest and hand tucked under his chin.
There's something peaceful about... just watching her. Which has always been worrying to him, since happy, content, and bliss all have slightly different connotations, and contentment is something he always feels around her, especially in the quiet moments like this. Sometimes he thinks the only thing keeping his soul where it is, is knowing that he could lose it at any second. It's a dangerous way to live, and another reason he felt he had to leave her.
:P
Okay, now that ─ the way he peeks out timidly from under the protection of a pink and purple and frilly pillow ─ would really have the forces of evil questioning Angel's big, bad brooding skills. "Your humor isn't bad per se. It caught me off guard is all. Hey, but now I know to be prepared for some tasteless humor bombs." She assures, turning back to the task at hand; project do-not-fail-and-give-Walsh-more-ammo-to-call-you-out-in-class-with.
She manages, too, for a solid forty minutes before she starts to fidget; the pencil taps along the pages, drags through her lips, is bitten on, used to doodle on the upper corners of the pages because they're her textbooks, not the schools. The first signs of Buffy's boredom kicking into gear. Followed by a groan that hides a yawn. "Okay, I think my brain is at capacity for psychology stuff." She announces, snapping the books shut and rolling onto her back. "I crammed in as much as I could, hopefully it'll be enough to pass tomorrow. If not then, I'm sure I can get a job with Xander delivering pizzas. Not the best fate since I'd look awful in the hat they make him wear." Turning on her side to mirror his position, she watches him a minute before whispering, "I forget how quiet you can be." It's true. For more than half of her studying she'd forgotten he was there. The low, comforting hum in her veins the only reminder at times he was near. "Also, how are you not bored watching me be bored out of my skull studying?"
no subject
It's a testament to how much he's grown, or opened up at least, just in the last 6 months; he's always felt more comfortable with Buffy than around others, but now he finds it easier to just talk with her; as well as move on when he says something awkward or, as she put it, without his brain-to-mouth filter engaging first.
This is what it's like, he thinks, watching her, if they could be friends. Never just friends, but they'd never been friends in the first place. It feels a little like doing things in reverse, but he's alright with that.
Watching her concentrate, the expressions she makes, sometimes even slightly mouthing through words and sentences without registering it, is soothing, and he doesn't realize he's fallen into an almost meditative state, his reflexive breathing slowing down until it actually stops for a while. That is, until she starts moving; shifting her legs and swinging them in the air behind her, tapping her pencil - watching her stick the pencil in her mouth and eventually bite it has him pressing his lips together and praying for strength.
"I'm sure you'll do fine. You're smart. They say after about an hour you stop retaining new information anyway." He's not sure where he heard that, but he's sure he has, somewhere.
His mouth is open before his brain-to-mouth filter does engage this time, and he stops himself from simply replying I love you. He's not sure she'd understand it as an answer to his not being bored around her, anyway. "I like watching you." He makes a face. "Okay, that came out creepier than I meant it. You do this-- you're expressive, when you're concentrating on something." Finally he just shrugs - since this isn't getting any better - and reiterates, "I like watching you," hoping she hears the I love you laced in there... but also almost hoping she doesn't.
no subject
"I need to do better than fine if I want to impress professor Walsh." Which isn't something she thought she'd ever say. About anyone. But there's something about the older woman that makes Buffy want to do better, to apply herself and live up to the standards Walsh sets for her students inside the classroom. "She's intense and smart and intimidating and I'm pretty positive she's the smartest person I know." Which, given everyone she knows, is saying a lot.
Scooting "dangerously" close to the edge of the bed and using her elbow for support, Buffy props her cheek on an open palm to watch and listen closer. The answer she's expecting is somewhere along the lines of, "What else am I gonna do?" What he says instead is so much better and not as creepy as he thinks it comes across as. But also, "Sweet." She insists, wholeheartedly, then adding, “And a little bit creepy.” For good measure. It’s her turn to make a face. Then immediately stop herself from continuing to make it, because he has her self-conscious about her expressions now or the ones she doesn’t mean to make. She wants to ask, “How often do I express myself?” Only she finds herself speechless and caught off guard once again.
She hears the I love you as clearly as if he screamed it. It’s not just in his words, that don’t actually say it but imply it, but it’s in his look, too. For a second she forgets where they are and who they are and, more importantly ─ who they aren’t to each other, and her mouth opens to say it right back ─ those actual three words, and she has to forcefully snap her mouth shut. Thankfully avoiding sending them right into disaster lane. Instead she says, “I like watching you, too.” Because she then remembers. “And texting you.” Reminding him, too.
no subject
It's at least the third time she's mentioned Professor Walsh specifically, and to go on and call her the smartest person she knows, means this woman must have done something to earn Buffy's admiration. Buffy's not exactly known for looking up to authority figures most of the time.
He means to ask her about the professor, but gets sidetracked. He knows Buffy hears the subtext in his words, from her reaction. And he's pretty sure she means the same thing when she says I like watching you, too.
It's bittersweet, and almost a physical ache in his chest, because he knows - he knows the only thing really keeping them apart, is his curse, and himself. He has the memories of an entire day with her to prove it. The reminder from her about texting isn't exactly needed, but...
Angel starts to frown, not upset, but in a thoughtful way. "I like texting. Keeping in touch. I think...." Finally he just sighs. "There's some things we need to talk about, and I need to tell you. It can wait, I don't want - your classes are important, I don't wanna distract you from your tests. And yeah," he grimace a little, "I know saying something like that is gonna make you not able to concentrate anyway. I'm just saying... What I have to say, it'll keep. It's not gonna change if I wait a week or two to say it."
Not just that he was an idiot, and he wants to try something between all and nothing. Even just these past months, while they've been hard, he can see that they both needed the time apart. But also... he needs to tell her why he wants to try again, what got him to change his mind.
no subject
Some people might say there's something almost as terrifying as a but followed a pause, and that's an, I think. Or some form of it like, I've been thinking. But for Buffy, it's that; I think we need to talk. It's exactly how he started the conversation, the very one sided conversation since he had already made up his mind about leaving. Adding a, "but not now and not here." Almost the same as the it can wait, he tells her, now.
Her heart sinks instantly. And though this might not be the sewers, it's still only them and a conversation (bad or good, she isn't sure) looming over her head. Slowly she sits up, trying to brace herself for the inevitable bad news that's going to follow. Except, oh that's right! He's going to keep it for a week! That has her bolting up, off the bed and turning to pace. Her mind is reeling, and not with anything good because she's trying to push away the memories of the last time they talked.
"You're damn right I'm not going to be able to concentrate! Not now and not tomorrow when I'm taking the test." She snaps, whirling around with Slayer speed and grace to face him. "God, what the hell, Angel? You can't do this. You can't just drop a bomb on me and expect me to hold it and not worry if it's going to blow my whole world up..." She manages to keep from saying, again! "Or if it's a dud and I worried myself for nothing." She explains, failing to keep her voice even. "So while it might not change for you if you hold onto it for another week, it's going to mess my week up. And I have enough crap on my plate, so you might as well tell me now." She demands, folding her arms over her chest and staring down at him, determined.
no subject
He sits up more slowly after she stands, watching as she paces around, all but yelling at him. OK, his choice of words was very poor. He waits for a break in her anger.
"I love you," he says evenly, staring up at her. He refuses to stand up, adding his size to the conversation and turning it into a confrontation. "There's more, but it's--well, it is important, but the main thing is, I love you. And I know you know that. I was wrong, in a lot of ways, when I broke up with you. I still..." Now he looks down at his hands, unable to watch her as he says the next. "I still think I made the right choice, leaving. Not just for you, but for me, too. But I let the mayor and your mother's visit rattle me, and I could've handled everything a lot better than I did."
no subject
"I..." Is all she manages to get out, stumbling over her words and her thoughts. What she wants to say is, I love you, too. And, I never stopped. But they get choked off at everything else he says.
And for the second time tonight, anger flares when she looks at him. Except it's not directed at him, though. "My mother?" She bites out, honing in for a second on that revelation. She knows what the Mayor said had gotten to him. It was meant to, so they'd be torn apart ─ divided ─ distracted. A plan B to his plan A. One that succeeded even if the other hadn't. But her mother? That she had no clue about. And her question makes it clear she wants to know what the visit entailed; she wants him to tell her.
"And what does that even mean? You were wrong in breaking up with me, but not leaving?" She asks, more annoyed at herself for not understanding, than at him. Maybe if he hadn't thrown so much at her all at once to process, she'd have been able to decipher it.
no subject
Angel winces. "She... She brought up the fact that... you're still young, and..." he really feels like he's throwing Joyce under the bus if he tells Buffy what was said, and he knows Joyce had good intentions. But looking back now, he recognizes that it was misguided, in more ways than one. Finally, he just sighs. "She didn't mean for it to play on my mind like it did, but after the mayor..."
"What I mean is, I think we—" he shakes his head; he's done deciding what's best for Buffy, even in hindsight. He does think it was best, in the long run, for them to be apart for a while, but he's not going to speak for her anymore. "Buffy. When I first saw you, the day you were called — if you'd seen me, you would've avoided me at least, and possibly called the cops on the creepy homeless guy.
"I will never regret meeting you. Or falling in love with you. But I've never... had a chance to be a good person, on my own, away from you, to prove that I could. I've never had friends at all until being with you, but it wasn't until I moved to LA that I had any friends that weren't yours first. At least, I'm assuming you don't wanna claim Cordelia or Wes as friends?"
He frowns a little, looking down at his hands in thought. "I needed to leave, to get perspective on us, and to learn how to be someone on my own. To know that I could be a good man, even if it wasn't for you. It's because of you, but it's not for you, anymore."
no subject
Just when she thinks she's figured out where this is going, he does a complete 180, surprising her. The lump in her throat is painful as she tries to swallow it down, listening to him. Her first instinct is to tell him she would have never avoided him; that while she might not have known he was who she was always meant to be with, her heart did.
Loosening her grip on the blanket, thankful she hadn't torn it because what an explanation that would've been to Willow, she feels the corners of her mouth curving into a small smile. "To be fair, Wes was never a friend." She reasons. He was...tolerated company at best. Should she feel bad for thinking that way? Maybe. But she doesn't. It is what it is. "Cordelia, though? I guess you can have her. Only because I'm pretty sure Anya would have my head if I said Cordelia was one of us still." She's not joking. "Tell her I was reluctant in letting you claim her as a friend and I will make your life miserable. I'm talking glitter bombs and spamming your phone with chain texts."
Pushing up from the bed, she takes the chance while he's looking at his hands to gingerly cross the few steps over to her own bed, settling beside him. And although she wants to take his hand in hers, she keeps them folded in her lap, but her eyes on him. "I'd ask how that's working out for you..." Learning to be him on his own, "But I can see it. Even just an hour with you and I can see the space... it's been good for you." The same as it's been for her. And because she's always known he was a good man. She's glad he can see it now, too. "The other part, though. The us part, what about..." She leaves the question hanging in the air, afraid of asking and setting herself up for the let down.
no subject
Reaching up, Angel rubs at his forehead uncomfortably. He's not going to lie to her, though, and frankly he should've told her about it when it happened. Really, he should have discussed all this with her. But where Joyce had said Buffy had dealt with so much and had to grow up fast, even Joyce forgot that she was still just a girl sometimes - it was all Angel could ever think about. He loved her, and he wanted to protect her from the harsh realities of the world, which most definitely included himself, and he always tended to forget that Buffy already dealt with the harshness, every night. Her age, at this point, mattered about as much as his; where he was still making stupid decisions 250 years in, she was making the hard decisions after barely 18. He'd been right when he told Joyce they were from completely separate worlds; the difference was, Buffy's world was better, in large part because she made better choices than he did.
"Remember that night before Prom, we'd gotten back late and you fell asleep at the mansion? It was that next morning, she stopped by." He can't help the short, mirthless laugh when she questions what gave him the right to talk about her life behind her back, tipping his head back and scrubbing his hands over his face. "Arrogance," he says bleakly, still with a humorless smile playing faintly on his lips. "Not the first time my arrogance has damned me, probably won't be the last."
At her threats, he smiles wanly. "Deal." ...before his expression dips into mild confusion. "Even though I don't know what either of those are, I'm pretty sure I don't want to be on the receiving end."
He's going to tell her about the Day That Wasn't. But that is going to wait until after her exams. It will throw everything off and upset her too much, and not knowing isn't going to change anything, for the next week. "Doyle had a thing for Cordy, did I tell you that?" he asks quietly, looking at his hands again. "He didn't want to say anything, because she wasn't shy about her opinion that all demons are evil and 'gross'. Ken being such a nice guy and still trying to eat Doyle's brain didn't really help her opinion, and Doyle had his own issues with his demon side, so he just--didn't say anything. She found out─ on the last mission we had, where─." He takes a moment to breathe shakily, trying to center himself and get his emotions in check. "And I can't help but think... What if he'd told her? What's the worst that could've happened? She took a few weeks to be mad at him, before giving him a chance? Awkwardness around the office? I wish that's what happened, instead of the red eyes and kleenexes and sad looks when she thinks I can't see her. She went looking for Doyle's coffee mug, but he didn't have one, not a favorite one he always used, and she─ shouldn't he have one? Some tangible proof that he'd been there, something she could see..."
He sighs, rubbing his hand over his face again, before tilting his head to look at her sideways. "I love you. And I don't want something to happen, to either of us, and have the other regret... I don't know what us looks like, anymore. But I want... I want us back, whatever shape that is. We've done all, and we've done nothing, and I wanna see if we can strike a balance between the two."