Matchmaker

Cordelia Chase watched with disgust as Angel stared longingly at the photograph on his nightstand, his eyes sometimes drifting to the telephone and then back to the picture.

"Nauseating," a voice behind her said.

Cordelia whirled around. "Ugh, you again."

"You again," Doyle mimicked her. "You again."

"Get out, Doyle, I don’t wanna hear it."

"It’s sickening, watching him brood over his lost love, isn’t it?"

"Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean I want to have a discussion about it.

Why don’t they just admit that they can’t move on, screw a little, and leave us in peace?" Cordelia turned and walked into the kitchen.

Doyle followed her. "They’re both stubborn as mules."

"Yeah, that’s not surprising, but it’s stupid. Who do they think they’re fooling? Not themselves. Definately not us."

"Each other." Doyle shrugged, reaching into the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of whiskey.

Cordelia snatched it from him. "That’s gross, Doyle, and I don’t care how Irish you are, you are not drinking whiskey at nine in the morning!"

Doyle merely glared at her, muttering something about, "Americans."

Cordelia growled at him. "Irish."

"I think they just need a little push in the right direction, don’t you?" Doyle asked, changing the subject.

"Like what?" Cordelia asked suspiciously, reaching for a carton of orange juice. "Gross!" she shrieked. "There’s blood on the shelf!"

Doyle continued as though he hadn’t heard her. "Just someone to ... help them realize what they’re trying to hide."

"Well, sure, but ... oh no. Oh no no no. I am not playing matchmaker. I refuse to get involved in this."

"But Deelie," Doyle wheedled.

"I told you not to call me that!" Cordelia burst out. " ‘Deelie’ does not come from ‘Cordelia’."

"Sure it does. Cor-DEELIE-a."

"You’re whacked, you know that?" Cordelia downed her glass of juice and tossed the cup into the sink. "And I’m outtie. I have an audition at ten."

Doyle snorted. "I think you’d have better luck with-"

"Doyle!" Cordelia snapped. "Enough!"

"Think about it, Deelie. Think about never having to deal with a brooding, whining, vampire again. Never having to hear those friends of yours in Sunnydale call to complain that the Slayer is bitching about her ex-honey again. Think of the peace."

"We’ll see," Cordelia murmured, grabbing her audition book and compact.

"Good-bye, Doyle. I’ll see you later."

"I’ll walk you to the door, m’lady."

"I’ll walk myself, thanks." Cordelia shook her head and stormed out the door.

He was at it again. He was staring at that damn picture, running his fingers over the frame, punching her number into the telephone and hanging up.

"My GOD!" Cordelia shrieked.

Angel whirled around. Seeing her, he sighed. "Cordelia, what now?"

"Could you be any more disgusting? Gosh, ‘Buffy this’, ‘Buffy that’. Blah blah, excuse me while I retch."

Angel growled. He pointed towards the door. "Out. Now."

"Excuse me? No. This is my place too."

"Who pays rent? OUT!" Angel bellowed.

Cordelia made a face at him. "FINE! Jeez," she muttered. "I’ll just go see Doyle."

"*Thank* you!"

*****

The door flew open. "I’m in!"

Doyle came out of the small bedroom. "Deelie! Reconsidered?"

"I’m in," Cordelia said flatly. "I can’t stand it any more. I’m going to be ill. And don’t call me Deelie," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"Right. Cor-dee-lee-ah," he stressed. "So, what do you say we get to work?"

"Ugh, now it sounds dismal. Can’t we just get Xander to drag Buffy over here, lock them in a room, and see what happens?"

"Well, sure. I think they have enough self-control. But why would you want to do that? That takes out all the fun in matchmaking!"

"I didn’t know it was supposed to be fun," Cordelia snapped. "I saw that movie, you know."

"What movie?" Doyle asked, confused.

"Matchmaker. About that chick that goes to Ireland and hooks up with some Irish guy and the matchmaker dies."

"Ah, he was old! But you, Deelie- Cordelia," he quickly amended, seeing the look on her face, "Will be just fine."

"I know that," Cordelia responded, exasperated. "Jeez, what kinda fool do you take me for?"

"A sexy one?" Doyle suggested.

Cordelia blushed, then frowned to cover it. "That’s enough out of you. Where do we start? Because Buffy sure isn’t going to listen to me."

"You handle Angel. As for Buffy ... leave everything to me."

Cordelia shook her head. "Yeah, good luck. Heaven knows you’re gonna need it."

"So how’d the audition go?" Doyle asked, grinning at her.

Cordelia just shook her head. "I’m leaving."

*****

Buffy glared at the phone. Who in their right mind called at two in the afternoon and let it ring sixteen times? "HELLO?"

"Aren’t you the beautiful greeter," came an Irish voice.

Buffy frowned. "Who’s calling, please?"

"A friend," came the cryptic reply.

"In that case, I’m hanging up."

"Why? Don’t you need a friend?"

"Look, Mister, last time I decided I needed a ‘friend’, the world nearly went to Hell ..." Buffy trailed off, realizing what she had said. "Michigan. Hell, Michigan."

"Oh really? Somehow I thought you meant the more fiery hot kind."

"W-Why would you think that?"

"Oh, just the Rumor Mill, you know, nothing to trust."

"Who is this?"

"People call me ... Doyle."

Well wasn’t that just fabulous. "You’re an Irish Whistler!"

"That I am, Ma’am."

"I know, I know, and you’re helping Angel. Okay, great, go back to being the helpful annoying twit that you are and LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"Wow! You’re more of a bitch when you PMS then Deelie!"

"Who’s Deelie?" Buffy asked suspiciously.

"Scared ya, huh? Don’t worry, Angel isn’t cozying up with a new girl. Cordelia."

Buffy breathed a small sigh of relief, much to her own dismay. "She let’s you call her that?"

"Our relationship is ... special."

"She’s giving you the brush-off, huh?"

"Yep," Doyle agreed ruefully.

Buffy sighed. "Was there a point to this call?"

"There sure was! I’d like to take you out to dinner."

"Yes. How does Tokyo House sound? You like Japenese?"

"NO, I don’t like Japenese. I don’t like YOU, and I want you to just leave me alone."

"Come on, Ang- I really want you to come!"

Buffy had caught his slip-up. "I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not working."

Doyle feigned innocence. "What?"

Buffy sighed. "Look, I have a class on Demon Mythology in about two minutes, and it’s on the other side of the campus. I’ll talk to you later ... no, I won’t." She slammed down the phone, missing Doyle’s response.

"That’s what you think."

Angel watched in horror as Cordelia bounced into his room.

"Hi, Angel!" she cried cheerfully.

"Hello, Cordelia," Angel responded sullenly.

"Now now, put a smile on your face! We can’t have el brooding vampiro!"

"Yes, we can," Angel snapped.

"Oooh, did I hit a nerve? Will I hit another one if I mention Buffy?"

Angel didn’t look at her.

"Buffy Buffy Buffffeeeee," Cordelia sang.

"Would you STOP it?!" Angel slammed his fist down on the desk, making the pencil cup rattle and tip over.

"I want to go out to dinner tomorrow!" Cordelia declared.

"So go."

"You think I’m going to go out alone and look like a reject from Hell? Not a chance!"

"Take Doyle."

"Ugh, he’ll probably get himself drunk. And have you seen his table manners?!"

Angel chuckled, mainly because he had seen Doyle’s table manners.

"Come on, Angel. Japenese!"

"I don’t eat food, Cordelia."

"Now, Angel, there’s a first time for everything. Besides, you never know, something good could come out of it!"

Angel shook his head. "I don’t think so."

"Please?" Cordelia begged.

"Cordelia ..." Angel sighed. "Just leave me out of this."

"But ... it’s a celebration!" Cordelia blurted out.

"For what?" Angel asked, suspicious.

"For ... I ... um ... the audition! I got the part! And now I want to celebrate!"

Angel actually gave her a half smile. "All right, Cordelia, in celebration of your first acting gig. Just this once."

Cordelia launched herself into Angel’s arms. "Thanks so much! You won’t regret it. After Doyle gets B-" Cordelia giggled helplessly, trying to cover her error.

"After Doyle gets back from the mall, I’ll tell him."

"Doyle went to the mall?" Angel asked, confused.

"Nevermind," Cordelia responded quickly. "I’m beat. G’night!"

"It’s two-thirty," Angel muttered to her retreating back.

Cordelia raced down the steps and let herself into Doyle’s apartment. "How’d it go?" she asked breathlessly.

"No go. She didn’t want any part in it."

"What’d you say to her?"

"That I wanted to take her out to dinner."

"Oh, great! Try to pick up the heartbroken gal! Great!"

"Hey," Doyle snapped defensively. "Did you have any better luck?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. I told Angel I got the part and he agreed to come out to dinner."

"Not all of us are ‘actresses’." Doyle made quote marks with his fingers.

"HEY!" Cordelia cried defensively, then sighed. "Okay, look, just get Buffy there. I don’t care how, just get her to the Tokyo House at nine tomorrow night. Got it?"

"Yes, Boss."

"Good."

Buffy pulled the pillow tighter over her head, hoping that whoever was at her door would go away. Who came over at six in the evening, anyway? Yesterday it had been the phone, now this.

"Lillllly," Buffy groaned, wishing for once that her strange room mate was home. "Did you have to go to that freak meeting?"

Buffy threw the pillow across the room and stood up. She pulled the door open, fully intending to bitch out whoever was pulling her away from the first slumber she had had in days. The man at her door was not someone she recognized. "Um ... hi ... who are you?"

"Just like the pictures," he murmured. Damn. It was that Irish friend of Angel’s ... "Dole."

"*Doyle*," he corrected.

"Whatever. What are you doing here? How’d you get my room number?"

"Little red-head friend of yours was in the lobby." He grinned. "Nice place you’ve got here."

"Save it. Get out. I have better things to do."

"Like mope? Nope, not leaving." He walked over to her closet and pulled it open.

"HEY! What are you doing?"

"Hmm? Oh, just looking."

"Well get out, that’s my closet!"

Doyle pulled out a long blue dress with a V-neck. "This is perfect."

"Excuse me? Just what do you think you’re doing with my dress?"

He tossed it to her. "Go put it on. We’re going out."

"I don’t want to go out. I want to sleep."

Doyle shrugged. "Come on, Slayer-"

"Don’t call me Slayer," Buffy demanded.

"Buffy. Come on, Buffy, just this once ... Cordelia sent me."

"Oh she did, did she?"

"Yes. She, uh, she got the part of Juliet ... in .. um, Romeo and Juliet ... and this is ... um, a celebration."

Buffy brightened slightly. "Really? That’s great!"

"Yes. It is. Come on, it’s a celebration."

"Who’s going?"

"Just the three of us."

"Oh, but I’d be intruding ..."

Doyle shook his head. "Not at all ... come on."

Buffy sighed. "Okay ... let me go change." She grabbed the dress.

Ten minutes later she was set to go. "Okay, come on. Tokyo House, you said?"

"Okay, where the Hell is this place?!" Buffy asked forty-five minutes later. "I swear there’s one in Sunnydale."

"We’re going to the LA one," Doyle said. "Cordelia ... uh ... couldn’t come out here."

"Oh." Buffy nodded knowingly.

"Okay ... we’re here ... you can eat ... then we can leave."

"Uh, no, not yet."

"Why not?"

"I ... um ... I invited Doyle."

"Then why am I here?!"

"Because ... just because!"

"If you want to date Doyle, that’s great, but I’d like to stay out of it."

"I don’t like Doyle like that!"

Angel just nodded.

*****

"God, could you have driven any worse?" Buffy asked as they walked into the restaurant. "I’ve been on smoother rollar coasters!"

"Thanks, Buffy, really," Doyle said sarcastically. He spotted Cordelia and Angel and grinned to himself.

"What party?"

Doyle stopped to see a Japenese worker looking at him intently.

"Uh, Chase."

The woman smiled. "Right this way."

Buffy was surveying the paintings on the wall as they walked through the restaurant. She stopped dead in her tracks when a very familiar voice said, "So, you’re Alice, then?"

Buffy whirled around to see Angel and Cordelia sitting at a table, talking. She turned to Doyle. "What the HELL is the meaning behind this?!"

"Uh ... well ... surprise!" Doyle looked sheepish.

Cordelia and Angel looked up.

"Hi!" Cordelia chirped as Angel’s mouth fell open.

"WHAT IS GOING ON?!" he boomed.

"Uh... surprise! Doyle ... needed a date."

"*Doyle* needed a date and he brought Buffy. Does Doyle even know Buffy? Why didn’t YOU two come together and leave US out of this? It’s great that you got the lead role in ‘Alice in Wonderland’, but-"

"I thought it was ‘Romeo and Juliet’," Buffy cut in.

"Well ... uh ..." Doyle shrugged.

"DOYLE! We went OVER this!"

"This was a set-up?!" Buffy shrieked, then sighed. "Of course it is. I should have been suspicious. More suspicious."

"I think we did good!" Cordelia said defensively.

"We did," Doyle agreed, coming to stand behind her.

"Aww, what a sweet couple." Buffy grinned and looked at Angel.

"Really," Angel agreed. A second later, he and Buffy had jumped up and were out the restaurant door.

"Hey! HEY!" Cordelia and Doyle cried.

Cordelia sighed. "Now I think we’ve been set up."

Doyle slid into the seat across from her and locked eyes with her. "But is that a bad thing?"

"Maybe not," Cordelia whispered.

*****

"So ... where do we go from here?" Buffy looked up at Angel.

"I don’t know," Angel answered honestly. "But ..." he took a deep breath,"I think Cordelia and Doyle had the right idea. Even if they did a bad job going about it."

"Really?" Buffy tried not to sound hopeful.

He looked into her eyes. "Really. I want to try again."

Buffy threw herself into his arms. "Me too," she whispered against his chest. After a moment, she pulled away, glancing out at the stars overlooking the lake that they were by.

"It’s beautiful."

Angel didn’t even glance at it, still staring at her. "You’re beautiful."

Buffy blushed. "Thank you," she whispered, leaning up to kiss him.

"Thank you," he whispered before capturing her lips in a tender kiss.