Amnesty Is Granted

“You're both being eejits, I hope you realize that.”

Angel ignored Doyle as best he could. It would have been easier to do if a certain brown eyed boy was still in the outer office puttering around, but Xander had left earlier. Angel had been able to pay him out of their first check and he had gone out to see if he could find an actual pair of gum shoes. Angel had to fight back a grin at that. Given the chance, Xander would probably buy a fedora and a trench coat, even though he knew it was a silly thing to do. That was just the type of person Xander was.

“Angel! Hello! You're both missing one of life's great opportunities!”

“It isn't going to happen, Doyle, so get over it.”

“What? You like him, and, believe me, he likes you. If the boy was a puppy he'd wag his tail off and piss on the floor every time you walk in the damned room. What's the problem? I mean, other than the whole you turning into evil incarnate.”

“Other? Is going on a six month long killing spree not enough?” Angel grit his teeth. He might actually have....feelings for Xander, but that didn't mean it was smart to do anything about it. Xander obviously felt the same way; why else would he try to hide his attraction?

“'M not saying that. I'm just saying that maybe there are ways around your curse. We could ask the Oracles, or do some research. Show you pictures of dead kittens and starving children while you two go at it. Something.”

Angel glared at Doyle. “It's not going to happen so just drop it.”

“Fecking hell! I have never seen anyone as willing to be miserable as you are, Angel. I know we Irish are supposed to be all poetic and stuff, but this is idiotic. You're gonna just sit here and bloody brood and the boy will brood in his own way and you'll both be perfectly miserable apart. When instead you can at least admit to each other how you feel and you can be miserable together, which is a damn sight better.”

Angel grit his teeth. “Not going to happen.”

******

“You're going to have to let go or be pulled over, you know.”

“Fuck you, Angel. I'm not the quitter that you are and Doyle just has to climb, like, sixty flights of stairs. I can hang on that long, despite the fact that you seem to have put on weight, which is odd, considering your liquid diet.”

Angel could smell Xander's fear and could feel how his sweat was making the human's palms slippery but there was nothing he could do about it. “We're seventy-three stories up. It’ll take him too long and if you don't let go you're going to die, Xander. I'm a vampire, so I should be okay.”

Angel could feel the snort that Xander didn't let loose. “Right. And Spike was okay after that church fell on him. Forgive me if I doubt your word, Angel. Hey, is this where they filmed Independence Day? You know, the LA part of it, where the ship zapped everyone?”

Angel fought off a laugh. This was the most ridiculous position he'd ever been in and if it wasn't for the fact that they both might die he'd actually laugh. Doyle had had a vision and, of course, they'd gotten in his car to “ride to the rescue”, as Xander put it. Some cult connected to Wolfram & Hart was set on sacrificing a young girl to some high order demon. They had managed to stop it but when Angel had thrown one of the high priests over the edge he'd been dragged along with him.

Xander had saved him, of course. It seemed to be his fate that this human man-child would always see him at the worst moments of his life. Twice he'd been too scared to face the Master and both times Xander had called him on it, not to mention how many times Xander had faced down Angelus with nothing more than his mouth and lived to tell the tale.

Xander had him by one arm, but the priest had grabbed at his other and tried to hold on for dear life. It hadn't helped that he'd been a three hundred pound Murtoch demon. Angel had tried letting go of Xander to keep the boy from falling over with them but he had refused to let go, so instead he'd ended up dislocating his own shoulder rather than let Xander fall.

In the end, though, he was still dangling from one of the ledges of the U. S. Bank Tower in Central Los Angeles, and he'd been trying to convince Xander to drop him for the last five minutes but Xander had always, always been stupidly stubborn and the fate of falling off the building where they’d filmed one of his favorite movies and splatting on the ground didn’t seem to bother him a bit.

“Xander, really, you're going to have to let me go or else you'll fall.”

“Shut up and hang on. Fuck, you are so annoying sometimes.”

“It took Doyle five minutes to figure out I was hanging off the roof and he's probably not gotten past the thirtieth floor yet. I don't want you to die, so please...”

“Goddamn you, Angel. I am not going to let you be all noble and tragic and go gracefully to your death and all that fucking crap. If I ever find the Powers That Be I'm going to bitch slap them, I swear to god! They've stuffed your head full of that Champion crap. You're doing this the human way, Angel, if that means holding on for dear life by your toe nails. Now shut the hell up!”

Angel looked up and he could see the sweat covering Xander's face and knew how exhausted he must be and yet the boy wasn't giving up. “Xander...”

“Fuck. You're going to make me say it, aren't you? You are such a jackass. If I didn't love you so damned much I'd throw you off the roof myself. Now shut up with the noble giving up of your unlife. It's creepy.”

*****

Xander knew that he was going to panic later. Oh, he was going to so totally freak out that Angel would probably have to tranq him to get him to stop running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Right now, though, he didn't care that he'd just come out as loving one of his best friends. All he cared about was the pain in both his arms and his shoulders where he was hanging on to Angel with all his might and he knew that if Angel fell he'd probably want to follow.

And he knew he wasn't watching the LA bits of Independence Day ever again because he was really sick of this fucking roof.

At least Angel had shut up; it was hard enough for Xander to concentrate on holding up his lead ass without having to make conversation. And he really was going to track down the PTBs. They kept on shoving all that champion of humanity shit down Angel's throat until he had started believing it and that was just dangerous, in Xander's opinion.

Xander wanted to quip but he was really having problems concentrating on holding onto Angel. His feet kept on trying to slip and he'd have to move and anchor himself without letting go. It felt like every muscle in his body was burning with fatigue and he was really hoping his arms couldn't rip from their sockets all on their own.

The gravel on the rooftop rolled under his feet and Xander quickly tried to regain his balance. “Fuck!”

“Xander, have you ever noticed that your language gets worse when you're under pressure?”

Xander groaned and hunched forward so he could wipe the sweat away from his eyes on his upper arm, which helped his eyes but now he had a neck cramp. “I can't believe this; this is like a bad action-hero movie and I'm the girl. I hate being the girl. But here I am, declaring my undying love for the brooding and mysterious hero and all you can do is comment on my use of four letter words?”

“Xander...” Angel's voice sounded strained and Xander would have given up his entire comic collection to see the expression on the older man's face. Hell, he'd just like to be able to see Angel's usual stoic expression, because he was really tired of looking at the top of Angel's pointy-haired head.

“I think all my blood is pooling in my arms, Angel, so therefore I can't think straight. Actually, I'm thinking kinda gay right now. And when you're nearly falling off a building to save the person you're thinking gay about, your language skills just might very well go down. Or up. I don't know....”

“Oh, man!” He heard the door to the roof bang open and then Doyle was there, helping him pull Angel up. For a moment Xander thought he saw a flash of red in Doyle's eyes but he didn't say anything because he really didn't care. All he cared about was getting the fuck off this rooftop and then going home and possibly hiding in his bedroom for a while, until the embarrassment and mortification stopped bothering him.

Thirty was a good age. Or maybe he could just live there for the rest of his life.

*****

“Xander? You okay?”

“Go away, Doyle.” Xander pulled out the box under his bed and looked through his old cassette tapes. Charlie Rich? No. Hank Williams? Nope. Xander finally found what he was looking for and grabbed his Walkman then shoved the tape in and turned it on, leaning against the head of his small bed to listen. Patsy Cline's I Fall To Pieces drowned out whatever else Doyle was going to say.

I fall to pieces
Each time I see you again
I fall to pieces
How can I be just your friend

You want me to act like we've never kissed
You want me to forget, pretend we've never met
And I've tried and I've tried but i haven't yet
You walk by, and I fall to pieces

A warm hand touched him on the shoulder and Xander slumped. He didn't feel like talking to Doyle. Or anyone, really. Maybe Willow, as long as massive amounts of chocolate could be involved along with the Best Friend Oath of Silence. The one where you crossed your heart and pinky swore.

“Come on now, Xan, don't give me any guff. You're not all right; you need to talk.”

Before he even realized it, Xander had opened his mouth. “He didn't even say anything, Doyle. I don't know if he likes me as more than a friend or if he wants me to leave or anything. He just thanked us for the help and walked off. Well, and commented on my verbal skills, but I was scared. Am I that terrible, Doyle? I mean, I'm not great but I'm not Jo-Jo the Dog Boy, am I?”

“No, lad, you're not terrible. You know Angel; feck, you know him better than I do. You know given half the chance he'll bollocks anything up. He’s just being thick as usual, you'll see. He'll come back and mope at ya, and you'll patch things up.”

Xander sighed and fought off the urge to lean into Doyle for comfort. They were friends but he wasn't sure how the other man would take that. He had been hanging around the girls too long. “I know. He's probably scared to death. Still, it's not like it was easy for me to admit it, you know. My own romantic history is so bad that I'm surprised my penis hasn't turned into an innie in self-preservation.”

Doyle gave a startled bark of laughter and Xander responded with a weak smile. “Hey, it's true. I'm the poster boy for bad romantic choices. Why should switching gender preference change that?”

“Cheer up. I get the feeling that Angel is more scared of you than anything else. He has feelings for you, lad, trust me.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.” Doyle smirked at him. “Been giving him a hard time about them and he hasn't denied he has feelings for you yet. You just get some rest and I'll bet you anything things will be better in the morning.”

“Whatever. Not that I don't believe you, Doyle, but even I know a relationship with Angel is a bad idea. I don't want to be doomed to being compared to Buffy for the rest of my life. But thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

“You're welcome.” Doyle stood up and paused for a moment. “You sure you'll be all right?”

“Eventually. A few hours of Pasty Cline and I'll be good to go. Really.”

Doyle nodded and left the room and Xander sagged. He was tired, every muscle in his body hurt and he felt like his heart had been run across a cheese grater. Why, oh why couldn't he have kept his big mouth shut? He stood up for a moment and got out of his dirty clothes, leaving on his boxers and pulling on a semi-clean tee shirt before climbing back into bed and turning on his tape again.

I fall to pieces
Each time someone speaks your name
I fall to pieces
Time only adds to the flame

You tell me to find someone else to love
Someone who'll love me, too, the way you used to do
But each time i go out with someone new
You walk by and i fall to pieces

Yeah, a few hours of songs to sob your heart out to and he'd be okay. Really.

*****