FerretGirl

Wesley's Little Defender (Angel: the Series: Angel/Wesley: PG-13--two parts)
Coming Home (Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Giles/Wesley: NC-17)
First Times (Angel: the Series: Wes/Gunn: PG)

 

Title: Wesley's Little Defender
Author: FerretGirl
Pairing: None
Summary: 10 year old Wesley finds a small confort while locked under the stairs.
Rating: Rated for child abuse
Spoilers: Non that I can think off
Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm just playing with them.

Thanks to Zortified for the quick beta on the story.

Wesley's Little Defender

The light around the door was like a halo. It was the only light he had; it wasn't much. Other then that it was completely dark. There was no sound, other then the noises the rats made and the occasional thumping as someone went up or down the stairs.

Wesley was scared of the rats. They had come near him on various occasions and even bitten him a few times. He was scared to death of them, had near panic attacks complete with the trouble to breathe and nightmares. His father had told him that it was utter nonsense. Wesley was much bigger then those little buggers, the boy was to grow up and be a man.

The eyes of the ten year old boy frantically darted back and forth, trying to figure out where the next attack might come from. Not that he had anything to thwart the attacks. He was too scared to use his hands. That was a lesson he had learned in the past; it had ended with a nasty bite in a finger and an inflammation of said finger to boot. Now used his feet.

Wesley could hear them coming; the rats were nearby. He swallowed down the tears of fear that threatened to break through. Father didn't like it when he cried. He was supposed to brave, a future watcher, a man. Crying was not allowed, not ever.

He hated being in the closet under the stairs. The suffocating darkness. The threatening rats. The sometimes unidentifiable noises. The footsteps of people going up and down the stairs as if there wasn't a little ten year old boy locked under them. But he was going to be brave, he was not going to cry. He was going to make father proud.

He had tried so hard to learn chapter one of 'The codex of lugash demons'. But the language was difficult and he had forgotten a word or two. The test he was given on the Codex had ended with an enraged father, a sore back and another 'thinking about your failures session' in the closed under the stairs

Wesley's head shot up when he heard the strange hissing sound. He carefully tried to peer into the darkness. From the corner of his eye he could see two rats approaching. His heart was throbbing in his throat and cold sweat broke out. As quietly and carefully as he could, he tried to scurry away from the frightening furry little creatures.

He heard the hissing noise once again and Wesley watched with enchanted amazement as the rats quickly made their retreat. As though they were afraid of the hissing sound. He wondered if he, too, should be afraid of the sound. One rat looked at him with its beady eyes as if it were warning the little boy. But the renewed hissing sound sent it quickly running away.

Wesley craned his neck to see where the hissing sound had come from. In the scarce light that fell from the door-frame he could see a furry creature. It was bigger, but much thinner and longer then the rats. Wesley held his breath as the furry creature came closer and gave him a curious look.

Wesley tilted his head to the left and stared back at the little creature. The wheels in his analytical brain were working on overdrive as he studied the animal. He could actually see the pages of the nature and animal books his uncle had given him. His father had scoffed at those books. According to him they held nothing but useless information.

"Mustela Putoris Furo," he whispered softly as if anyone could hear him through the thick walls of the closet. "Domesticated by the ancient Romans to keep their homes free of rats and mice, now used to hunt rabbits or kept as pets." He carefully stretched out a hand and kept staring at the little brown creature as if it were magical. "Commonly known as ferret." He ended his private lecture.

The ferret suddenly jumped at Wesley and then back again, making funny noises that sounded like it was saying dook-dook-dook very fast. It arched its back all the way up and jumped up and down a few times, shaking its little head from left to right. Wesley quickly snatched his hand back, afraid the ferret would bite.

The ferret made a fake attack once again, then laid down flat on the floor and looked at the little boy. The mischievous eyes sparkled and Wesley could almost swear the furry creature was laughing at him when it wriggled its little nose.

Once again Wesley could hear the rats approaching, the scratching of their paws on the wooden floor giving them away. The ferret turned around fast and jumped toward the sound with an almost deafening screech. The rats quickly ran away again, leaving the ferret to smugly watch them scamper off.

Wesley froze and stared as tough hypnotized at the door. He was expecting his father to yank it open and demand what in the bloody hell was going on here. He waited, not moving, frozen to the spot. He could hear the ferret hissing to the rats. He could hear the rats once again running away. But he kept staring at the door.

Suddenly he could feel a tickling sensation on his legs. Wesley looked down startled and saw that the ferret had come closer and was now boldly sniffling his leg. Wesley blinked at the ferret and carefully lowered his hand to stroke the furry body. He was surprised to find it was soft and almost silky feeling.

The little ferret crawled in his lap and laid down, curling up like a little furry ball. Wesley was surprised at the tiny animal's courage. He smiled at the ferret and kept on petting it. The ferret sighed happily and curled up even further into a little ball, pushing its tiny nose Wesley's other hand.

Time passed slowly in the closet under the stairs. Wesley was cold, so cold. He wrapped his school blazer around him closer. The ferret was now comfortably sleeping in one of his pockets. Wesley marveled at the sight. The ferret seemed so at ease, so peaceful and calm. It had the same soothing side effect on Wesley.

Suddenly the door was thrown open. Wesley could actually feel the wind suction in his ears. His hand flew protectively toward his pocket. Father stood towering at the door, gesturing with his head that Wesley was to come out.

As fast as his cramped muscles would allow, Wesley crawled out of the small closet and stood in front of his father, his eyes cast down at the floor. His hand hovered over the pocket. His throat felt tight and he was hot and cold at the same time, nervous butterflies attacked his stomach. He didn't want his father to know about his new little friend.

"Look at me boy." The demanding tones in his fathers voice were unmistakable. He wasn't forgiven yet...if ever.

Wesley's forced his head up to look at his father. He was trembling slightly, and could only hope his father wouldn't notice. He swallowed down the bile that tightened his throat.

"I'm going to test you again tomorrow and you better have all of it memorized by then." His father crossed his arms infront of his chest and the ice cold blue eyes bored into the little boy infront of him. "Do not disappoint me again boy, do I make myself clear." It wasn't really a question, it never was.

Wesley nodded fast, shuffling with his foot over the carpet. So far the little ferret had made no sound, it was still sleeping in the pocket of his blazer. Wesley's thoughts were so engrossed with ferret that he never saw the blow coming. The ringing and the heat that came from his ear were the only indications that he needed to tell that his father was once again not happy with him.

The finger pointing at the stairs loomed over Wesley and spoke volumes. "Yes S-sir" Wesley whispered. His shoes felt like lead, he had to squash down the urge to drag them over the floor. That would only lead too more anger, disappointment and lecturing from father. He was not about to ask for another encounter with the cane. It took every effort to lift his feet and walk up the stairs. His shoulders hunched, his head bent. His hand still hovered protectively over the pocket that held the tiny ferret.

Once the door of his room was closed Wesley led out a sigh of relief. The room was his safe haven, his sanctuary. Father never came to his room. If Wesley's presence was demanded by either of his parents, they would send up a servant to summon the boy.

Wesley carefully lifted the little ferret out of the pocket of his blazer. The ferret was limp in his cupped hands, like a rag doll that had been carried around too much. Wesley's eyes widened as he all but dropped the ferret on his bed. His hand flew to his mouth and tears formed in his eyes as he looked at the tiny creature in shock. Had it suffocated in the confinements of the pocket?

He reached out with a trembling and carefully shook the ferret. Once, then twice, softly. A third time with more force. Wesley dropped to his knees and looked closer at the ferret, trying if he could see the little animal's breath. His small finger poked the ferret once again

Wesley hadn't even noticed that he himself had stopped breathing until he let out a sigh of relief as he watched the ferret uncurl itself. The tiny creature yawned, showing a row of sharp teeth and four very dangerous looking fangs.

The ferret stretched its long body lazily, yawned again and then looked up at the little boy. It scrunched up its nose as if trying to smell something. Then it looked around and hopped off the bed, running around the room exploring the new environment had woken up in.

Wesley sat on the bed and watched the ferret run around. Sometimes the ferret would stop and run backward really fast, as if that were a normal thing to do. It made funny little hops, with a highly arched back as it found something that it didn't trust. Wesley was mesmerized by the ferret.

From the bookshelf he had pulled the book his uncle had given him. He was soon enraptured in the chapter about ferrets. He learned that ferrets did not live in the wild but were only domesticated animals, ferrets ate cat-food, ferrets went to the toilet, ferrets could be used for hunting. He learned that the ferret currently exploring his bedroom was called a sable ferret, due to its color. Picking it up and turning it around Wesley also learned that the ferret was female.

Wesley pondered this for a moment. He really wanted the ferret to have a name, so it would have a personality. Father always said that names were important, they were meant to impress people. Although the name Wyndam-Pryce was impressive, why his parents had thought that the name 'Wesley' would impress anyone he could not comprehend.

Wesley thought of a name. Several goddesses passed by, famous queens, legendary woman, historical woman, until he finally settled on the name 'Alexia'. Wesley found this a suitable name, since it meant 'defender' or 'helper', which was exactly what the little ferret had done. She had defended and helped Wesley against the rats in the closet under the stairs.

In the day's that followed Wesley managed to sneak a small cage up to his room, cat-food, a small box that would serve as a toilet and several toy's. When ever Wesley was in his room, which was a most of the time, Alexia would be free. When Wesley was at school or doing chores for his father, the little ferret slept in her cage. He cuddled with Alexia, played with her and told her everything.

About his fear of the dark, about his father, about how afraid he was of becoming a failure. He told her what he had learned in school, about what he had learned from the demon books his father insisted he studied. He even told her what he had eaten for dinner, or about a new game he had learned watching the other children in school or normal day activities. Alexia usually lay in his lap and looked at him, with those wise brown eyes. As if she understood everything he confided in her and sympathized.

Wesley was very careful not to give away any signs that he was keeping a secret friend in a cage under his bed. He had found out that the vague scent of the ferret on his clothing alone scared away the rats. They rarely came to bother him, and when they did, they never came close. It seemed that Alexia was helping and defending Wesley when she wasn't even there. Wesley spend his time in the closet under the stairs trying to come up with ideas for new games he and Alexia could play. For two weeks Wesley was almost happy and carefree, ever since he had found Alexia in the closet. Or rather when she had found him.

But Wesley's father was a smart and intelligent man. He had noticed the odd behavior of the boy. The secret little glances, the sneaking up the stairs, the hand held over his pocket every time he went to the garden. And then there was this strange smell he could not quite place. It wasn't a strong smell, it was just a smell that shouldn't be there. Wesley's father was sure Wesley was hiding something. He was going to find out what it was and when he did the boy was in for a very severe punishment. Little boys were not allowed to keep secrets from their fathers, most certainly not in this household. He would show the boy just who was the man of the house.

When he released Wesley from the closet this time he kept a close eye on him after he had sternly lectured him about his irresponsible and once again disappointing behavior. Wesley had nodded and stammered his agreement as usual. The boy was such a disappointment, Wesley was nothing like the son he had imagined raising one day. The only satisfaction he had was the fear he saw in Wesley's blue eyes every time they looked up at him. He watched the boy slowly make his way toward the stairs and then, when he thought his father was not watching, nearly skip up the stairs to his bedroom.

Wesley's father waited half an hour before walking up the stairs toward his son's bedroom. He wanted the boy to feel safe first, that way he was sure the secret would be out in the open when he would go to the boy's room. Without knocking, he threw the door to the boy's bedroom open and his eyes glanced across the room, before finally resting on the boy sitting on the bed.

Wesley froze as his father entered his room. This was not supposed to happen. The room was his safe haven, his sanctuary. Alexia had jumped up at the sound and was standing infront of him on the bed, hissing at his father as if the ferret knew the danger the man meant to the little boy. He snatched out his hand to pick up the ferret and protect her from his father.

His father, however, was faster. Wesley could only watch helplessly as Alexia was yanked off the bed and held by the scruff of her neck by his father.

"What is this? An animal! A filthy rodent! You know what I think about animals in the house!" His father shook the ferret with bruising force. Alexia dangled in his hand, her body going in odd curves trying to get herself freed from the hand that was hurting her.

His father was actually yelling this time. Fear surged through Wesley's body as he stood up, trembling, and searched his brains for the right words, words that would save Alexia, that would allow him to keep the ferret. "But Alexia is not b-b-bothering anyone." Wesley tried softly, "I'm taking good c-c-care of her, she's very clean and she can stay in my r-room father, I promise you will n-not even notice her." Wesley flew backward against the wall when his father hit him. He could feel blood trickle down his lip. Fearfully he looked up at his father, who was still shaking Alexia.

The little ferret craned her flexible neck and managed to latch on to a finger that came too close to her yaws. Wesley would always swear, afterwards, that the little ferret had grinned when his father yelped out in pain.

"We do not keep animals in this house, boy! And most certainly not filthy, dangerous ones like these!" The hand that had struck Wesley came up fast and the next thing that Wesley heard was the sickening crack of bones. Alexia went limp in his fathers hands, her head lolling on her neck oddly. His father tossed the ferret on the bed as if she were nothing but filthy rag.

Tears sprang in Wesley's eyes as he realised that Alexia was no more. His father had killed his only friend, his defender, his helper, his only joy in this miserable live. Rage boiled in little Wesley as he jumped to his feet. His small fists slamming into his fathers body. "Murderer! You killed her! You killed Alexia!"

The blood that came out of his nose was flowing sluggishly down his chin, dirty tears smugged his cheeks and small fists kept raining on his fathers body. His throat started to hurt from screaming. Through his anger he didn't even feel his father hitting him over and over again, until Wesley fell on the ground unable to get up again. His body and spirit just as broken as the glasses that were laying next to him on the floor.

His father towered over him and hit him once again. "You will get rid of that filthy beast right now. Go downstairs and throw it in the rubbish bin outside. Do not defy me again, boy!" With that his father turned on the balls of his feet and stalked out of the room.

Wesley crawled over to the bed and looked at the broken body of Alexia. He wiped his nose and carefully reached out to pet her. She was still warm. If her head weren't bent completely backward he could have pretended that she was sleeping. He pulled himself on the bed and took Alexia in his lap, positioning her as if she were sleeping. He rocked back and forth sobbing silently, cradling the limp and broken body of the tiny ferret that had been his only friend to his chest.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Title: Wesley's Little Defender, the sequel (I know! what else was I suppose to call it)
Author: FerretGirl
Pairing: Wes/Angel
Summary: About 20 years later.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Non that I can think off
Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm just playing with them

Thanks to Lilacgirl for the beta on this story.


Wesley’s Little Defender, the sequel

"Wes?"

Startled Wesley looked up to see Angel approaching him. He quickly stood up from where he was hunched and straightened himself.

"What's so interesting?" Angel looked over Wesley's shoulder into the shop window which captivated his lover's interest. "Are those ferrets?"

"Yes," Wesley looked back at the little critters playing and bouncing behind the glass. He smiled wistfully at the memory of the little ferret he once had. Pain flashed through him when he remembered what had happened to the tiny creature, changing the smiling features into sorrowful ceased ones.

"Cute little rodents," Angel tapped against the window to try and get the little animal's attention. He almost smiled.

"Ferrets are carnivores Angel, not rodents. They are used to hunt rabbits and kept as pets. This particular breed is called the blaze ferret." Wesley caught himself before he would go into lecture mode. He really had to stop that urge every time a subject came up he knew everything about

"Huh," Angel sat on his hunches and looked up at Wesley. "You seem to know a lot about them." He tapped the window once again and this time he had to smile when one of ferrets made a funny bounce toward the window, scratching its tiny paws against it.

Wesley frowned. He didn't like to be reminded about his childhood and somehow the memory of Alexia, the little ferret, hurt more then anything else. She had not been in his thoughts for years now. Every now and then he'd remember her fondly, but today he could feel the pain, the helplessness, the anger, he had felt some odd twenty five years ago.

"Yes, yes it seems I do." Wesley turned around and started walking toward the direction of the bookstore they were headed. "Coming Angel? We've wasted enough time," he stalked off into the dark bookstore.

When Angel reached the bookstore Wesley was already on his way out. "They didn't have it," he informed. "We'll try again next week," with that he walked off in the direction of the parking lot. His body language clearly showing he was upset. Not that anyone but Angel would notice, Wesley was good at hiding his feelings.

Confused, Angel followed. Something had really thrown Wes right of the scale. He sped up his pace to catch up with ex-watcher. He opened his mouth to ask what was the matter when he caught the look on Wesley's face. Now was obviously not the time for serious discussions, or perhaps any kind of discussions.

Wesley had a far away look on his face. Angel had seen that look before. He didn't like that particular look, it meant his lover was hurled back into his childhood. Angel didn't like that. Wes never really spoke about what had happened when he was a child, but the vampire could tell from the hints Wesley dropped every now and then, it had not been a happy childhood.

Hell, it was clear to almost everyone at AI that most of their boss' insecurities lead right back to his childhood or to be more precise, his father. Angel had to squash down the urge to run over to merry old England after every phone call Wes made to his father. His British lover was down for weeks after that. Wesley's parents never called Wesley, he always had to call them. Angel would give anything for some alone time with Mr. Wyndam-Pryce Sr., he had some ideas that would have made Angelus cringe.

But he didn't. Wesley wouldn't hear of it. The Brit had asked Angel to let it go, what was in the passed should remain in the passed, but still, Angel didn't like it when his Wes was upset or insecure or felt useless just because of a fucking phone call. If Wyndam-Pryce Sr. could do that to Wesley with just a phone call, Angel shuddered to think what the man had done during Wesley's childhood.

Maybe he could sneak over to the British Isles, take the Concord. He would be back in a day. But Wesley would find out and then what. Angel sighed, if Wes could handle it, so could he. The problem was, Angel wasn't so sure Wesley was handling it or maybe he was just repressing it. He knew Wes was very very good at hiding his feelings.

They were quiet in the car on their way back to the hotel. Wesley just stared out the window. His head propped up on one hand, a lost look on his face. Angel just wanted to reach over and kiss it away. He would have, if he wasn't driving. Wesley had traffic safety issues a mile wide, so the vampire didn't want to risk a lecture. But then again, maybe Wes could use the distraction.

"Used to have one you know...a ferret," the soft voice filled the silence. "When I was about ten, her name was Alexia," Wesley still didn't look up, kept staring out the window.

'Aha there it was,' Angel thought. He had to keep the conversation going, previous talks like these had taught him that. "Alexia huh?" He turned to look at Wesley and frowned when he saw that his lover still had the pained expression on his face. "So what happened to her?"

Wesley swallowed down the bitter bile that had formed in his throat. "My father didn't like animals in the house he-" his voice faltered and became even more softer, the English accent more pronounced, "-took care of her." After all these years he had only be able to say the words 'killed' once. Right after he had seen his father snap the tiny ferret's neck.

Angel however had no such qualms, "He killed her didn't he." It wasn't a question, somehow the look on Wesley's face spoke volumes, telling him everything he needed to know. One of his hands left the steering-wheel and landed on Wesley's knee squeezing it softly. "Tell me about her."

And Wesley did, about the tiny little ferret that had saved him from the rats. That had given him two weeks of joy. About how she had jumped funny, the sparkling mischievous eyes, the understanding when he confided in her. His voice became filled with unshed tears as he told Angel how his father had discovered the ferret and in a rage of anger had broken her neck. Wesley had disobeyed his father and had buried the tiny ferret under a tree near the river. A special stone with her name painted on it over her grave.

"I was ten, it's silly," Wesley took a shaky breath and gave Angel a weak smile. He took comfort in the strong hand that was rubbing his knee. He felt pathetic, almost bawling over something that had happened more then twenty years ago. Wouldn't his father be proud.

Angel frowned, "It's not silly, she meant a lot to you. She gave you happiness." He gripped the steering-wheel hard with his other hand turning his knuckles impossibly white. "Wes, I swear one day I'm going over to England and –" his angry rant was cut short when he felt Wesley's hand on his arm.

"I know Angel." Wesley turned around and looked at him now, "And I appreciate that, but it wouldn't change what has happened. It would only make me feel guilty about it." He took another shaky breath, "About my father's death that is and I won't let you risk your redemption for me. I just wish I could get his approval, but that is never going to happen it seems."

"You don't need his approval Wes," Angel growled. He hated it when Wesley was like this. "You're a great man, you're smart, you kind and you're sexy as hell." He turned to look at his lover, "You're a survivor, you are a crack shot with a crossbow and absolutely great in the sack."

Wesley blushed at the last words. "Well yes, but I think you're bias," he leaned over and kissed Angel on the cheek softly. "Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome." Angel wasn't exactly sure what he was being thanked for, but Wesley seemed better and it was all that mattered. Angel also had gotten an idea, an epiphany if you will.

Once they returned home the vampire went to work. He wanted to make it was good, no great, for Wes. It was the best idea he ever had, he was sure. He browsed though photo albums Wesley had pointed out to him once. He browsed through books he ordered from the internet with Cordelia's help. Having a hard time explaining to her why on earth he wanted to have books on ferrets. But somehow he managed to keep everything a secret from Wesley.

Angel bought the supplies he would need, went to the pet-store to look and ask questions. Finding out the salespeople in the pet-store knew next to nothing about ferrets. The books told him more, but the tiny bouncy creatures in the store were cute. He worked on his little idea when he was sure Wesley wasn't around.

When he was almost done after a week he became nervous. What if Wes didn't like it? What if it brought back bad memories? He had been so sure when he had his 'epiphany' in the car, but now the time was near to give Wesley his gift, he began to have doubts. Still, he had worked hard on this and a tiny voice in his head whispered that Wesley would be pleased, he just had to.

Wringing his hands nervously he deposited his gift on the table in the lobby of the hotel, making some final adjustments to the bow tied around it. He wondered briefly why his hands were clammy, vampires didn't sweat. He cleared his throat and walked over to the counter. Gunn and Cordelia were looking at something on the computer monitor, probably the internet. "Wesley?" Why was he so nervous?

Wesley poked his head out of the office. "Yes Angel?" he walked out of the office, putting the book he was currently studying on the counter carefully. He studied Angel, his face held a curious expression.

"I..uh..I have something for you," Angel shuffled from one foot to the other and gestured with his hand toward the wrapped gift on the table. "Its a little...uh...something."

Wesley looked toward the gift. "For me?" he asked unsure. At Angel's affirmative nod he walked over to the table and looked at it.

Cordelia began to stand up to have a closer look at the gift, but Gunn's hand on her shoulder stopped her. She looked up at him annoyed, but sat back down when he shook his head. Gunn had a feeling this was one of those 'private moments'.

"What is it?" Wesley carefully let his fingers slide over the ribbon. He had no idea what the beautifully wrapped package could be.

"Open it and find out," Angel smiled at his lover, still wringing his hands nervously. He hoped he had done the right thing.

Wesley carefully tore away the wrapping paper and looked at the now revealed gift. He blinked and stared in shock. "Oh Angel," he whispered.

Angel wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. "Do you like it?" he asked, wringing his hands harder. Wesley stayed quiet, only staring at the gift. That couldn't be a good thing. "You don't like it." He was sure of it, he had made a mistake.

Wesley blinked up at Angel. "No," he whispered, "I love it Angel, this...this is wonderful." He looked back at the gift his hands carefully caressing as if it were a precious artifact.

Cordelia couldn't hold back her curiosity much longer, walking over she looked at the gift. Her eyebrows shot up and she threw a quizzical look at the former watcher and then at the vampire. "That's –" Her voice trailed off looking for the right words.

Wesley looked up, "I know exactly where I want to put it." He picked up the gift carefully and made his way up the stairs.

Angel followed him confused, but smiled broadly when Wesley entered his bedroom. Their bedroom.

A small sheen of sweat covered Wesley's naked body as he lay with his head on Angel's chest. A happy smile on his face. His fingers tracing meaningless patterns on the body of the vampire.

"So you really like it?" Angel had to ask again. The kiss he received told him everything he needed to know. Wesley really liked the gift. The vampire wrapped his arms around the ex-watcher and pulled him close.

"It's the most beautiful and precious gift I've ever have been given," Wesley murmured sleepy when they broke the kiss. He adjusted himself in the arms of his lover and looked toward the wall across the bed. "What did you call it?"

"I thought I'd give you that honor," Angel said also staring at the wall.

Wesley tiled his head and looked closer and smiled. "Little Defender," he decided quickly. He turned his head upward and kissed Angel again. "Thank you," he said softly.

"You're welcome." This time Angel did know what he was thanked for, his eyes turning back toward the wall across from the bed.

A ten year old boy, resembling Wesley drawn with charcoal looked back. In his arms he cuddled a tiny ferret, who looked down at the two entwined lovers with sparkling mischievous eyes. Like a guardian angel.

-end.

 

Title: Coming Home
Author: FerretGirl

Pairing: Wesley/Giles

Summary: What would have happened if there had be some one to pick up Wes after he got out of the hospital in S3.
Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: Spoilers for S3

Disclaimer: They're not mine, I'm just borrowing them.

Feedback: Would be muchly appreciated

Distribution: Ask and I'll probably faint and then say yes.

A big thanks for my beta's Miniera, Lilacgirl, Snoopygirll and Cerisaye for their help and encouragement.


Coming Home

Giles stood in front of the door. He was fairly sure doors weren't supposed to loom, or frighten anyone. This one however did.

Giles had come all the way from England to see the man behind the door. It would be ridiculous to be scared away now. Giles was still surprised at how close he and Wesley had become over the years.

Wesley had started out as his replacement, and that had been a laughable attempt at best. Wes had been an arrogant, stuck-up, by-the-book watcher. While Giles had noticed how young, insecure and handsome Wesley was, he had been too busy with his Slayer and associated problems to notice anything more about the other watcher.

After Wesley disappeared, Giles had wondered what had become of the man. He was strangely pleased, if not surprised, when he'd received a phone call from Wes, the first of many.

Over the years they became good friends, confidants even. Amazing how well one can get to know each other over the phone and, once Giles had managed to tackle that electronic monster, e-mail. They talked to each other weekly, almost every other day if possible.

Giles was been the only other person who had known about the bloody prophecy, 'the father will kill the son'. Together they had come up with a plan. Who would have thought that it would all go so terribly wrong.

And now here he was, probably Wesley's only friend.Giles had been distraught, phoning everyone and anyone who might have information about what had happened, why Wesley hadn't shown up at the airport in London as planned. Finally, he had been able to reach Fred, a name he remembered Wes mentioning. She told him what happened and softly explained how Angel had tried to kill the younger watcher, that Wes was alone now.

She'd been making a wordless plea for help on behalf of Wesley, Giles thought. But it wasn't necessary. The minute he heard that Wes had almost died, he was already planning his way over to LA, to get to Wes, to get Wes.

But standing in font of this looming door wasn't going to help Wes. Giles took a deep breath and opened the door quietly. Wesley had been declared healthy enough and was going home today, Giles had come to take him home alright, just not to Wesley's home in LA.

Walking into the hospital room Giles took in the figure sitting on the bed, with his back toward him. Shoulders slumped, head hanging, the picture of pure defeat. Giles' heart ached for him and he longed to reach out for the other man.

"Wesley?" He was startled to see how fast the younger watcher reacted. And for a moment Giles could read everything in those blue eyes. Pain, rejection, failure, fright, he saw all of it before they became guarded again, haunted.

"Giles?" Wesley swallowed painfully; it had been awhile since he had used his voice. It was like talking while swallowing glass. He didn't understand why Giles was there, but he felt a sense of relief before panic took over. The older watcher was here to lecture him, about his failed attempt to do the right thing. Wesley was sure of it. He stood up; trying to straighten himself and looked Giles in the eyes. "What are you doing here?" he asked stepping away from the bed, away from Giles.

Giles winced at the sound of Wesley's voice. It must be very painful to speak. A broad white bandage covered his entire neck. Wesley looked thin, bruised, like he hadn't been taking care of himself for days prior to the...incident. Only then did he realize just how close Wes had come to dying. He also noticed the look on Wes' face, a look that said he was bracing himself for yet another rejection. Giles wasn't going to let it happen.

"I've come to take you home," he simply said. Wesley looked at him shocked.

"You've-?" Wesley's voice trailed off. He winced when he swallowed again.

"You shouldn't be speaking so much yet," Giles berated him. He picked up the box that was lying on the bed. "We're going by your flat to pick up some things and then you're coming with me back to England." Giles' tone of voice really left no room for argument.

Wesley tried anyway. "England? But I can't leave here. The mess I've made -" his voice trailed off. "I'm sorry," he whispered casting his eyes toward the floor.

Frowning Giles took a step toward Wes, "What are you sorry for? Not dying?" he demanded harshly.

Wesley couldn't look up, he didn't want to see the rejection in the other man's eyes. "For...for bollixing things up, for failing again," he started to fidget with a button on his shirt. He could feel tears pricking in his eyes, this was too much. He had been able to hold it in for a long time, but Giles being here, caring for him, was too much.

Giles didn't hesitate and stepped briskly over to Wes. Placing his arm around the younger man's shoulders, Giles pushed Wes toward the bed then sat, pulling Wes down beside him. "You did not fail Wes, it's not as though you asked for this woman to slit your throat and take Connor away." His voice was firm, the hand brushing over Wesley's back was soothing.

"But -"

"No buts," Giles put his finger on Wesley's lips to stop him from saying anything else. Cupping Wes chin he pulled the face up to look into his eyes. "You did not fail, you made a mistake, but you did not fail."

The dam broke. Wesley could no longer hold back what he'd been ignoring for days now. And he didn't care, somehow he felt safe when Giles arms pulled him close to his chest. He felt loved, cared for. Something that he hadn't felt in a long time.

Giles held onto Wes. He had to fight the urge to kiss away the tears. He had been having strong feelings for the younger watcher for years now, but this was neither the place nor the time to act upon them. It could wait, for now all he wanted was to take care of Wes.

Pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket he wiped Wesley's face dry. "Let's go home," he said softly pulling Wes to his feet.


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


Wesley looked out the window, taking in the familiar English streets below. The last few days had been a blur. He vaguely remembered packing up some belongings from his LA apartment, taking a plane to England and here he was, in Giles flat. And strangely everything was still a blur. He couldn't figure out what to do with his life now, so he just sat here, thinking. About what went wrong, over and over again.

Giles was worried. Looking at the painfully thin figure staring out the window while he stirred his tea. He had to remind, and often force Wesley to do anything. The first few days he even had to help him shower. The medication was making Wes prone to fainting spells. The first time Giles had seen Wes naked he had cringed and vowed to himself he would get some meat on those delicate bones.

He was however, very relieved when Wes assured him he could shower by himself. Giles was having trouble keeping focused, trying not to let his eyes roam over Wes' naked body like a predator. Not to mention it was getting pretty hard to hide the erection in his baggy trousers.

But other then that Giles had to remind the younger watcher of everything. Taking his medication, cleaning the wound, eating and drinking. It was like Wes' brain had shut down and all that was left was an empty shell. Giles knew this was not true of course. Wesley just didn't care anymore, thinking he himself wasn't worth the hassle.

Letting out a sigh, Giles drank his tea. This had to stop, and the sooner the better. If only he had an idea how.

"I'm sorry," the soft voice came from the window.

Giles looked into Wesley's impossibly blue eyes. Now what was he sorry for? Giles was getting tired of hearing Wes apologize for everything. It was like a bloody theme song.

"If you say it one more time, I'm taking you to this new mall to go shopping," he had meant it as a threat, since both men hated shopping. The shocked look on Wesley's face almost made him burst out laughing.

"Beg your pardon?"

"You heard me," Giles smirked. He was glad to get a reaction out of Wes, any reaction.

Wesley seemed to be lost in thought again. Chewing his bottom lip he stared out the window. It was an English summer and they had been cooped up in this apartment for days now. A devious little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Giles looked at him over his teacup. He narrowed his eyes, Wes was up to something.

Turning Wesley looked at Giles with a serious face. "I'm sorry," he said again looking far too innocent.

Giles blinked and put down his teacup carefully. The cheeky little bastard. Giles grinned at him. "I was serious about it."

"I'll just have to face it like a man then," Wesley gave him a tiny smile back.

Giles almost held his breath. He hadn't seen Wes smile since, well hardly ever now that he thought about it. He really had to make sure Wes smiled more often. If this is what a tiny smile looked like, Giles was sure a real big smile would lighten up the handsome face like nothing he had ever seen. Giles couldn't stop himself from smiling back.

"Alright, let's go then."

"Yes, I need to buy a razor," Wesley thoughtfully rubbed his hand over his chin covered with stubbles.

Giles looked at him. He liked the scruffy look. It made Wes look more manly instead of boyish. "No you don't."

Wesley blinked at him. "I don't?"

Giles shook his head, "It looks good on you," he said firmly and walked out the door.

Wesley rubbed his chin again while looking at Giles retreating back. The tiny smile returned, growing bigger. Feeling better then he had in days, he followed Giles out the door.

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

"Good lord, does anyone really wear this?" Giles stared at the preposterous ensemble on display.

"I've actually seen Cordelia wear something similar on several occasions," Wesley winced when he mentioned the name. It still hurt.

Giles noticed Wes' reaction. He knew it was going to take time. He just wished he could take away some of the pain, the needless guilt, the insecurity.

"Then I'm sure it was very fashionable and she probably looked stunning in it," Giles mentioned. Wes couldn't keep avoiding it the rest of his life. The sooner he dealt with it the better Giles thought.

Wesley nodded, a small smile appearing on his face. "That she did," he agreed.

"You should do that more often."

Wesley looked confusedly at the older watcher, "What?"

"Smile," Giles pointed out, "I like seeing you smile, your entire face lights up." He also liked to see Wesley blush, like he was now.

"I...er, thank you?" Wesley could feel himself blushing. He smiled shyly at Giles, quickly looking down at the floor trying to hide it.

Giles cupped Wesley's chin and forced him to look up "You're welcome," Giles smiled widely. He touched Wesley's cheek gently before quickly snatching his hand away, "Come on, let's go for some ice cream."

Wesley moved his hand where Giles' hand had been only a moment ago. He followed the older man while trying to make sense of a few things. Was Giles flirting with him? Or was he imagining things?

Eating their ice cream, they made their way outside. "Oh bugger," Giles looked up at the sky outside, "It's raining."

Wesley chuckled, "You've been far too spoiled by the Californian weather." He walked out into the rain and looked up. It was pouring down in hard, warm droplets. In moments Wesley was soaked. He turned around and smiled widely at Giles who hovered under the shelter of the roof. "Wanker."

"I do not wish to catch pneumonia thank you very much," Giles shot back jokingly.

"Hand over the car keys. I'll get the car for you old man," Wes put out his hand and wriggled his fingers.

Giles tried to look offended while searching through his pockets to find the keys. He handed him over with a huff."Youth these days."

Watching Wesley jog away through the rain to get the car Giles smiled. This had been a good plan, it seemed like Wesley had enjoyed himself.

It was only moments later Wesley drove the car up to the curb. Getting out he tossed a mischievous grin over at Giles. "Do you want me to come over to fetch you with an umbrella?" he asked innocently.

"Prat," Giles grumbled quickly diving for the door and clambering into the car. His heart jumped listening to Wesley laugh out loud.

Wesley climbed in the driver's seat and drove toward home, still laughing.

"Laugh if you must, but you are getting out of those wet clothes the moment we get home before you catch a cold. You're still recovering," Giles mildly scolded.

"You're such a worrywart," Wesley turned to look at Giles, "Thank you," he said softly.

"For what?"

"Well..for...for worrying," Wesley shrugged.

"Think nothing off it. You're a good friend Wes, I worry about you, it's what friends do."

Wesley's smile faded. "Yes," the hands on the steering wheel turned white from their hard grip. "That's what they do." He was glad when they got home. Parking the car quickly he got out.

Giles frowned. Getting out of the car he looked at Wes standing in the rain, lost in thought again. He dove under the little roof over the door to shield himself from the rain.

"Wesley?" Getting no reaction he took a tentative step into the rain. Carefully touching Wes' arm to get his attention he tried again, "Wesley? Let it go, it's time to move on."

Wesley's hands clenched and unclenched as he turned around to face Giles. "Yes, yes it is," He agreed. Hesitantly he took a step toward Giles, looking into his eyes. Trying to find something, acceptance, permission, love? What ever it was, he found it. Moving forward he did what he wanted to do for some time now. He kissed Giles. He prayed to whatever god might be listening that he hadn't misread the signals.

Giles froze when he felt Wesley's lips on his. Then he relaxed. Wasn't this what he had wanted? His hands automatically wrapped themselves around Wesley's waist. He pulled back and looked into Wesley's eyes. Giles almost took at step back when he read the emotions in them.

"I'm sorry, that was –" Wesley began to stammer.

"A very nice surprise," Giles stopped him. The hold he had on Wesley's hips became tighter, pulling him closer. "Instead of punishing you by going back to the mall I have a proposition."

Wesley looked at him quizzically. "And what might that be?"

"First we get out of the rain and then perhaps into the bedroom?"

Giles had been right. Wesley's smile did lighten up his face. He looked years younger, happier. It was also very encouraging. This really was a nice surprise.

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

Wesley looked really hot wet. Giles made a mental note to shower with him sometime soon. If all went well.

Suddenly they were kissing passionately and Giles, desperate to finally feel naked skin, ripped off Wesley's wet shirt. His hands roamed over Wesley's back, feeling both the scars there and the smooth skin, he pulled Wes closer to him trying to feel more his skin.

Wesley pulled back and fumbled nervously with Giles' clothing. He had been having strong feelings for the older watcher for some time now. But never in his wildest dreams did it occur to him those feelings might be returned. He finally got the buttons undone and pushed the wet shirt off Giles' shoulders, with shaking hands.

Giles drew back, grasping onto Wesley's hands. "Are you sure about this?" his voice laced with concern.

Wesley gave him a shy smile, making Giles want to kiss him again. "I..well yes, I am sure, it's just that...that....it's been a...while," Wesley quietly admitted.

Giles looked at Wes thoughtfully, "You have been with...?" He let the question hang in in the air.

"Yes, I did go to an all boy-school you know," Wesley smiled nervously, "But like I said, it's been a long time with either man or woman, and the last well," Wesley fumbled with Giles shirt in his hand, "the last time was about two years ago with Virginia," He blurted out.

Ah yes, Giles remembered Wes telling him about Virginia. Giles brought up both of Wesley's hands and kissed them. "Then we'll just have to take it slow."

Getting rid of the rest of their wet clothes, Giles pushed Wesley down on the bed, taking the lead, somehow sensing that was what Wes needed, wanted even. His hands explored all of Wesley's body, loving the way Wes gasped and leaned into his touch.

Moving further, Giles lips sucked on first one nipple, moved to the other one and then up to his neck, licking the scar on Wesley's throat.

Wesley shivered violently when he felt Giles' tongue on the scar. His mark of betrayal. Somehow Giles' touch turned it into something else, something erotic, something to be proud of. He couldn't stop his hands from sliding over the broad back, feeling hard muscles, moving downward slowly to finally hover over Giles' arse.

Giles looked up amused, kissing Wesley's forehead. "We're on top of each other naked, I'd say it's safe for you to touch me where ever you like Wes."

Wesley chuckled and softly brushed his hands over Giles' arse. Encouraged by Giles moaning, he started massaging them. His mouth seeking out Giles' soft velvet lips once again.

They kissed for some time. Hands going over each other's body, exploring, feeling, touching, just being together. Giles' erection pressed into Wes' belly, finding the much needed friction.

Giles slowly crawled down Wes' body, nipping and licking all the way. His tongue dipped into the bellybutton, going down further. He grinned when Wesley moaned with pleasure as he took the tip of Wesley's cock into his mouth, sucking it.

Wesley arched his back, rocking his hips up into Giles' hot, wet mouth. Grabbing a handful of the sheets he tried to hold on, giving into the sensation. He threw his head back, breathing heavily, "God Giles."

Giles looked up, while sucking Wesley's cock. The picture Wes made, lying there thrashing under his ministrations was almost enough to make him come. He moved one of the hands from Wes' hips toward Wesley's balls, he tugged and pulled on them, rolling them around in his fingers. Giles wanted to hear more of the sounds Wes was making. He bobbed his head up and down, enjoying the taste and feel of Wesley. He felt the balls tighten and swallowed Wes' cock until it bumped at the back of his throat.

With a strangled cry Wesley came, spurting hot seed into Giles' mouth. He was trembling all over, panting. He pulled Giles up, he needed to taste the other man, taste himself.

Giles grinned while he moved up to once again seek Wes' lips. "You taste bloody marvelous," he whispered into Wes' mouth, plunging in his tongue.

Wesley enjoyed tasting himself mixed with Giles. It was perfect, it was right. He could feel Giles' still hard cock pressing into his hip. One hand snaked down and pulled on it. "What do you want Giles?" he asked softly.

Giles moaned, he knew what he wanted, but he wasn't sure if Wes was ready for it. Tangling his hands in Wes' short hair he looked into his blue eyes. "I want to be inside you."

Wesley swallowed but kept his gaze on Giles. He nodded, consciously spreading his legs wider.

Giles moved away from him and rummaged through the bedside table. Grabbing a tube of lube and a condom, he quickly moved back between Wesley's welcoming legs. He swiftly rolled the condom over his cock and moved down to kiss Wes again.

Opening the tube he slicked up his cock and then moved his fingers toward the puckered hole, massaging it. He kept his eyes on Wes' face, making sure not to miss any signs of discomfort. So far Wes seemed to have no problems, if the way he was thrusting his arse up toward Giles fingers was any indication.

Giles carefully moved in one finger and grinned when Wesley moaned his name. Slowly he pulled the finger in and out, adding a second finger. He stretched Wes, noticing how tight he was. When he was convinced Wesley was ready, he put the head of his cock at the entrance of the hole and slowly pushed in.

Wesley hissed as he felt Giles' cock pushing inside him. He remembered the burning pain from his school days; it was like being split open. He willed himself to relax, to wait for the enjoyment he knew would soon come. It helped that Giles was there, kissing him, encouraging him silently, calming him down.

Giles bent down to ravish Wesley's mouth, slowly pushing in his cock until he could go no further. He held still, giving Wes time to adjust. He kept on kissing the younger man. His mouth, his collarbone, his nipples. "Are you alright?" Giles asked.

Wesley gripped Giles' hair and pulled him down for a kiss. Wrapping his legs around Giles' waist he pushed Giles in further. "I haven't felt this good in quiet a while," Wesley voice was husky, laced with emotions.

Giles began to thrust into the tight hole carefully. Wes was so tight, so hot, so perfect. "Bloody hell Wes," Giles moaned.

Wesley rocked up his hips to meet Giles' thrusts. The pain went away and all that was left was the pleasure, the comfort, Giles filling him, being with Giles.

Giles thrust in harder, faster. One hand in Wes' hair, keeping his head still so he could kiss him thoroughly. His other hand moved down to stroke Wesley's renewed erection.

Wesley was mumbling incoherently by now. His hands holding onto Giles' shoulders with bruising force. Giles' cock brushing his prostate a few times, was enough to make him come again.

Giles knew he wouldn't last long, the sight of Wesley climaxing pushed him over the edge. He rocked in and out of Wes' arse a few more times, milking out his orgasm before collapsing onto him. He rolled them both to their sides, cradling Wesley in his arms, kissing his face.

"Thank you," Wesley whispered. His eyes were starting to droop. He was sure he was going to be asleep very soon. He whimpered when Giles pulled out of him completely, it was like missing something that was part of him already.

Giles kissed his temple and pulled him closer. "No, thank you,," He said. "How long have you wanted to do this?" He wondered.

"Oh, since back in Sunnydale," Wesley yawned.

Giles eyes widened, "Good lord, surely you are joking?"

The smile Wesley gave him assured him that he was not joking.

Giles silently cursed himself for the wasted time. But then again, it had been nice they had become friends, before they became lovers. "Sleep, you haven't really slept in weeks," Giles ordered.

Wesley adjusted himself in Giles' arms, using the older watcher's chest as a pillow. He felt safe, protected, loved. For the first time he was sure the nightmares would stay away.

Falling asleep in Giles' arms Wesley felt that he had come home indeed.

- end

Title: First Times
Author: FerretGirl
Pairing: Wesley/Gunn

Summary: There are a lot of first times
Rating: PG?

Spoilers: Spoilers for S1 to S3

Disclaimer: They're not mine, I'm just borrowing them.

Feedback: Would be muchly appreciated

Distribution: Ask and I'll probably faint and then say yes.

Thanks to Lilacgirl and Lonely Brit for the beta :-)


First Times

The first time I saw him was at the hospital. Angel had asked me and my gang to keep an eye on him and Cordelia. I gotta say I was kind of impressed. I mean the guy was in a building that had been blown to a zillion pieces and survived. And I ‘ve seen the building, not much was left of it and he was smack dab in the middle of it. For a guy who had just been blown up he didn't look too bad. A day or so later he even managed to perform a spell to heal Cordelia. I didn't give him much thought after that, but it turned out, I was going to learn a lot about Wesley Wyndham-Pryce.

The first time I actually met him was at Cordelia's place. I can't even remember why I was there. Probably some job I was going to do with Angel. Funny how I found myself working with the one thing I had sworn to destroy. A Vampire. And his friends. It was then I found out that needling Cordelia was fun but, damn, did she have fast come backs. Needling Wesley proved to be more fun. He'd be all stuttery and bumbling and trying to put up a front. The guy irritated me. With his politeness and his mannerisms and his overly eager to please attitude. But what irritated me the most was the way he looked at Angel. With those puppy dog baby blue eyes of worship. I didn't know then, but there was a reason it irritated the hell out of me.

The first time I called him English I can't really remember. But I'm sure I did it just to annoy him. Wesley was so very easily annoyed it was funny in a painful way. Somehow the name stuck and it became a special name I gave him. He tried so hard to please everyone, even I could see that. He was brave. A fool, but a brave fool. Now I'll be the first to admit that I can be a fool myself sometimes, but at least I knew I was going to be foolish before running in head first. Wesley was usually the calm one, the voice of reason. But when he made his mind up to do something, he didn't think about it twice. He just ran off and did it. Even if his own life was at risk. It was as if he didn't even notice, didn't care about it. If it were anyone else's life at stake, he would stop and think about it three, four times before doing anything. His own life? It was as if it didn't matter to him. That makes me angry, pisses me off. It was then I was beginning to suspect I felt more for Wesley Wyndham-Pryce then I was willing to admit to myself.

The first time I saw a totally different side of Wesley Wyndham-Pryce was when Angel fired us. He took charge. He somehow automatically slipped into the role of leader. And Cordy and I followed, cause he was good at it. I watched him grow stronger a lot during that time. It was also during that time my feelings for him became more intense. I can even pin point the exact moment I admitted it to myself. The moment I saw him fall down on the cold, hard asphalt, with a gaping bullet hole in his stomach. He took a bullet for me. I felt fear and anger go through me I had never felt before. And they were for him. A skinny assed British guy. Whose ass was not so pansy. He was lying there bleeding, dying...for me. He survived, again. The survival instinct of this man was unbelievable. And I guess he was also very lucky. I mean he survived a lot of things. He got tortured by this slayer chick, got blown up, beat up, and now shot. He was also very cute when he woke up. He was giggling and talking in that very English way of his. It was at that moment that I knew I was falling in love with Wesley.

The first time we did our secret handshake in front of Angel I felt really smug. I had to stop myself from getting up into Angel's face and growling "Mine!" Because that's how I saw Wes now, even though Wes didn't know it yet. I was very relieved to see the puppy worship he had toward the Vampire no longer existed. That had me worried, cause I'm no fool. I knew Wes loved Angel. But Angel never took him up on it. It was a few days later Angel gave me this strange long look. He glanced toward Wesley, who was oblivious as always and then back again at me. "You take good care of him." That was all he said. It was a threat and a blessing at the same time. For a moment I felt lost. So I had the vampire's blessing, now what? Did this mean I had to go and pursuit Wesley seriously? That was gonna be hard, cause I tried subtle hints and all. But either English really was oblivious or just very good at ignoring the obvious. I made up my mind then, I wasn't going to waste any more time. I, Charles Gunn was going to get Wesley Wyndham-Pryce no matter what. Of course I should have known something would get in the way.

The first time I saw Wesley's hard side, his tough side, I was shocked. Pylea had been nothing but a nightmare for all of us. Well apart from the fact that Angel got to walk in the sun and Cordy got to play a real princess. I bet she really enjoyed that part. But the part where I saw Wesley coldly plan the death of almost an entire army chilled me to the bone. He explained to me: if you try not to get anyone killed, you'll get everyone killed. It was then I could read in his eyes how hard this all was for him. He was good at hiding how he really felt, but his eyes always gave him away. And I had become very good at reading Wes' eyes. I was proud and scared to death the next day when we attacked the castle. English was at the front, fighting just as hard as the warriors. I was right at his side. It was then my respect for him grew in leaps, as did my love.

The first time I saw him looking at Fred that way, I was ready to leap out of my chair and strangle her. Or Wes. I realized I was jealous, frigging jealous! I watched them. He was drawing her out of her shell more and more every day. They had a lot in common. Both intelligent, both bookish, both everything I wasn't. Damn, I was gonna loose him. It took me many sleepless nights to make up my mind. I was just gonna go to Wes and ask him straight out if he was in love with Fred.

The first thing I thing I noticed when I came in that morning was that he was already there. Or still there, I should say. Seemed Wes was working overtime, again. Some prophecy no doubt. It looked like he did get some sleep, since he wasn't looking really tired. He was looking damn fine actually. I stepped right up to him and waved off his cheery good-morning greeting. "You in love with Fred?"

The first thing that came to mind was ‘shit that sounded so uncool, not the way I had planned.’ He looked at me puzzled and strangely with a little amusement. He took off his glasses and looked at me more closely. I always thought Wes without his glasses, very sexy. And the stubble he was sporting now made me wonder if I could get away with hiding his razor. An exasperated sigh made me look up again. Fuck! He had asked me something and now he was giving me that look. The 'I asked you something but I might as well talk to air, no one takes me seriously anyway' look, the look which made his eyes go wide with hidden hurt. I always had to stop myself from kissing him when he looked that way. "What?" I asked trying to sound casual, I failed of course. Suddenly I noticed his eyes had this amused gleam in them. "I asked," he started slowly and the amusement now was in his voice, "when you were going to kiss me?"

The first time I was totally speechless was when he asked me that. He kept looking at me and leaned forward slowly. I found myself almost drowning in those blue eyes of his, my heart was in my throat, I wasn't able to move away. Hell, not that I wanted to anyway. He came closer and suddenly the very thing I had been dreaming about for so long happened. His lips were on mine. He was kissing me. I automatically kissed him back, enjoying the soft lips, the taste of tea and honey. As if it was something we had been doing for years, we were so made for each other. I kicked myself inside for not doing this way sooner. Cause the man could kiss. I never been kissed like that before in my life, I could kiss Wesley for the rest of my life. And then it hit me. I was kissing Wes and even better, Wes was kissing me.

For the first time in my life I am perfectly happy. Nothing matters. Not Fred, Not Angel, Not Cordy, Not the good fight, Not my old gang, Not the things that had stood between us in the past, Nothing at all. And you know why? Cause he kissed me first. Wesley Wyndham-Pryce is full of surprises and I am looking forward to finding out many more first times.

- End