RATING: NC-17 for Wes/Gunn slash
SPOILERS: Season 3 spoilers through "Birthday" and
SUMMARY: How unobservant can two people be?
NOTES: I've learned I can't write serious Angel
stories to save my life, so this is nothing but
zombies, slime, wrestling, and sodomy. I'm such a
THANKS: To Resonant and Nestra, for patience and
encouragement when I flung story bits at them. Beta
help by the DRV girls.
DISCLAIMER: I do not have the stompy foot of Jossian
DISTRIBUTION: Yes to BFA, USCL, GunnWesley, and
Eterniata if Lar wants it. Please ask, otherwise.
Gunn ripped off the paper and let it fall to the lobby
floor. "Hey, cool," Gunn said, flipping the boxes
over to look at the back panels.
"Do you like them?" Wesley asked. He had a bow stuck
to the top of his head; it listed to the left and
tugged at his hair. Gunn had put it there about
twenty seconds ago.
"Yeah, been meaning to watch these," Gunn said. "But,
"I don't own a DVD player, Wes."
Wesley rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, I do." He
reached into his pocket and flipped a silver key at
Gunn caught it in mid-air, nearly dropping his
Christmas presents. "This what I think it is?"
Wesley shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage.
"You're welcome to come over and watch them when I'm
not there, you know," he said. Then he smiled. "Of
course, I'd like to see them, too."
"Thanks," Gunn said. He tucked the key into the front
pocket of his trousers. It made a slight bulge
against Gunn's hipbone.
Cordelia already had a key to Wesley's apartment in
her possession; she had been rubbing her wrists where
the restraints had marked her when she demanded a key
and given one in return over a year ago, after they
had both recovered sufficiently to be released from
"Next time," she had said, "bring me clothes. I am
not going to be seen in public wearing a hospital gown
Virginia had left him before he'd broached the subject
of exchanging keys.
Gunn hadn't asked for the one Wesley had just given
him. Perhaps that was why he'd wanted to give it, in
the first place.
"I have beer," Wesley said. He brushed at the paper
bow in his hair and it slid some more, landing on his
Gunn grinned and started to say something, but his
eyes widened and he reached out to grab Wesley by the
front of his shirt, pulling him close. Gunn's breath
was warm on his ear and Wesley's back tensed when he
felt something cut through the air centimeters from
where he had been standing.
"Cordy," Wesley said, neck craned, eyeing the blade
Angel had given her. "That was a bit close, wasn't
Cordelia twirled it and sighed. "Relax, guys, I know
what I'm doing."
"Uh huh," Gunn said, stepping backwards and pulling
Wesley with him. "We'll just stand back here."
There was a yelp, and Wesley realized Gunn had backed
into Fred. She grabbed onto Gunn's shoulder and they
kept retreating until they were almost into the hotel
Gunn's grip relaxed on Wesley's shirt and he looked
over his shoulder. "You all right?"
Fred blinked up at them both. "Oh, me? I'm just
dandy," she said. "Cordelia's getting pretty good at
that, Angel says."
"Oh, I don't disagree," Wesley said from Gunn's other
side, not moving away. "However, I do think I'll stay
over here until she comes to terms with the lack of a
Christmas bonus this year."
"Good plan," Gunn nodded.
"Oh, please," Cordelia said. "If I wanted to kill
you, I'd poison your tea with toe jam from a Mukluk
demon, Wesley. Or I'd tape Angel singing to Connor
and lock you in a room with it on permanent replay."
"Hey," Angel said. He looked up, holding his son in
the crook of his arm.
Cordelia arched her eyebrow. "Last night you sang, 'I
Write the Songs.' You owe us all."
Angel grumbled under his breath about Christmas spirit
and returned his attention to bottle-feeding his son.
Gunn snorted and said to Wesley, "Mukluk?"
"Apparently," Wesley said, "Phantom Dennis has
developed somewhat of an obsession with National
Geographic specials featuring the Inuit."
"Maybe that's an explanation for people who have no
*lives*," Gunn said.
Wesley crossed his arms. "Perhaps I should call a
locksmith when I return home tonight."
"No man comes between me and your Playstation,
"Is that so?" Wesley said.
Gunn tilted his head and intruded upon Wesley's
personal space. "It's *so* so."
"Okay," Cordelia said, raising her left hand. "Who
else thinks the baby is the most mature boy in the
"I'm still your superior," Wesley pointed out.
"And I'm still the one who does payroll," she said,
cutting at the air with her new sword.
"Just get it over with and say 'uncle' so I can go
drink your beer and use your DVD player, Wes."
"I think you all should know that I would give every
last one of you the pink slip if it didn't entail
paying for your unemployment. All of you except Fred,
Gunn laughed and slung his arm around Wesley's
shoulders. "C'mon. Let's get out of here before
Cordy comes at you with her sword again."
"What about that one?"
"Do you really think of Cordelia as Little Bo Peep?"
Wesley nearly lost his balance when Gunn playfully
shoved at his shoulder. Suddenly, Gunn's index finger
appeared in front of his eyes, pointing at the
decorated cake next to the fluffy sheep.
"Ah, the ice cream cone. That makes much more sense
when Cordelia's Rocky Road dependency is taken into
"Golf, football, freak-ass clown... a Care Bear?
Don't they make any of these for, like, people over
"Oh, as if *I* actually know what I'm doing in a
bakery ordering confectionaries."
Gunn nodded. "Should've made Angel do it. He digs
"There is the sunlight factor."
"And he can't leave the kid for more than 8.9
Wesley grinned. "You timed him?"
"Had Fred do it. Didn't you see her with the
stopwatch yesterday? She came up with this whole
Gunn moved to the left to peruse more of the decorated
cakes on display. Wesley followed closely.
"Might be too girly."
Wesley glanced at Gunn. "Cordelia is a girl."
"A girl we're *afraid* of, Wes."
"You needn't mention that in public."
Gunn took another step to the left and paused, staring
at the last cake in the display case. "Huh."
Wesley instantly recognized the figure drawn in
colored frosting and had to concede that it was
Years ago, he wouldn't have. The knowledge was
recent, since his move to LA and subsequent move into
his first apartment. An efficiency with a rusted
porcelain sink and a pile of moldering graphic novels
in the back of the closet, abandoned there by some
Wesley was the type to never leave anything unread.
He sat in front of the closet on carpet worn down to
the consistency of burlap. The thought of his
father's face should the man ever catch his son
reading anything so trivial as a comic book prompted
him to flip open the wrinkled cover of the slim book
on the top of the pile.
Four hours later, his joints were stiff and he was
more than a little hooked.
A vulgar habit for an ex-watcher, perhaps, but an
eminently satisfying one.
"Hey," Gunn said, turning to grin at Wesley, "why
don't we swing by the book store after this. Haven't
read a comic book in years."
Wesley nodded. "You might be surprised at what Peter
David's done with her storyline."
Gunn blinked. "No way."
"What?" he said, concealing his grin by ducking down
to peer at another cake.
"No. Never seen a comic book at your place. Ever."
"Bedroom closet. They're in a box marked 'Athlitic
Gunn swore softly. "I'm gonna be at your place so
much your landlord's gonna try to charge you for a
roommate." Gunn stood up and lifted his chin at the
clerk. "We'll take Supergirl."
Wesley peeled another strip from the back of his
shirt. "What is this strange obsession you have with
Gunn smoothed another line of tape across the seam on
the wrapped present. "Makes opening 'em more fun."
"More fun for whom?" Wesley asked, bending down to
peel another strip of tape from his sock.
"Me," Gunn said.
Wesley realized Gunn had taken advantage of his
position when he felt Gunn's hand smack another strip
of tape in place across his rear end. He straightened
and said, "Do you mind?"
While Gunn concentrated on sealing shut another
present, Wesley did his best to look innocuous as he
walked behind Gunn, reached out, and stuck a strip of
tape onto Gunn's bald scalp.
"Hey," Gunn said, "watch the head."
"I shall do no such thing."
Gunn rose from the floor where he'd been wrapping
Cordelia's last present, brandishing a half-empty roll
of Scotch tape. "Oh, you're in for it now."
Wesley raised his empty hands. "I am unarmed."
Gunn grinned. "And I care because...?"
Wesley dodged around his desk and went for the door,
but Gunn's arm snaked around his middle and pinned him
to the desk. Gunn pressed one end of the roll
against Wesley's chest and began zipping the tape
"Are you trying to make me into a mummy?" Wesley
asked, no longer struggling.
Gunn laughed. "Wouldn't I have to pull your big-ass
brain through your nose first?"
"With a hook. Only if you do, I won't be able to pick
up Cordy's cake this afternoon."
The door opened and Fred's head appeared. "Hide the
presents!" she said in a loud whisper. "Cordelia's
almost done putting Connor down for his nap." She
shut the door without saying anything about Wesley's
They scrambled to conceal the presents in his office,
smaller boxes going under his desk and the larger at
the back of the office closet. Gunn pulled on the
back of his shirt when Wesley made to exit, and said,
Gunn pulled off Wesley's tape wrappings and rolled
them into a ball, launching it at the rubbish bin.
"Nothin' but net," Gunn crowed.
"And I was missing an arm," Wesley said. He held a
demonology text flat on the floor with one knee while
he examined her.
Cordelia nodded, her hands holding fast to the chair
lest she float away again. "I was totally famous and
had *great* hair. But yeah, it was all, like, *The
Fugitive*, but with demons."
"Or *The X-Files*," Angel offered. When Cordelia and
Wesley turned to look, Angel shifted and glanced over
his shoulder. "What? I can't possess knowledge of
popular American culture?"
Wesley blinked. Dryly, he said, "Clearly we've been
underestimating your telly time, Angel."
"Oh, you have no idea. You know why he never wants to
help me practice during lunch anymore? He's addicted
to *The Price is Right*," said Cordelia.
"I am not."
"Sweetie," Lorne said, passing through the lobby on
his way to the kitchen, still wearing his silk
pajamas, "don't try to pull the cotton-wool blend over
an anagogic demon's eyes."
Angel trailed after Lorne. "Hey! I've got a human
son now, you know. I have to know things. About
groceries. And diapers. And... trips to Bermuda."
"Yeah, sure. Pull my other horn. The one that's
The door swung shut behind them. Wesley flipped a few
pages in his book, then looked up and said, "I was
missing an *arm*."
"Your arm's off!" Gunn mocked from where he was
sprawled on the couch.
"Your accent is atrocious," Wesley said, not looking
"It's just a flesh wound!"
"Gunn wasn't missing any appendages, was he?" Wesley
Cordelia shook her head. "Nope. But you two were
this macho demon-fighting duo, and," she said, kicking
Wesley lightly on the knee, "you were kind of *mean*."
"Guy's missing an arm, Cordy. Don't have to kneecap
him, too," Gunn said.
"Oh, now you're concerned about my well-being," Wesley
said, consulting the index at the back of his book.
"Just looking out for my fellow man."
"You can say that," Wesley said, "because I'm the only
other human man here."
"Oh my god," Cordelia said. Her eyes were wide,
pupils dilating rapidly. "I'm not human anymore."
She wobbled on the chair and Wesley lunged forward to
catch her. Suddenly, Gunn was on the floor beside
him, sliding on his knees to help support Cordelia.
She tried to wave them off.
A spectacular bit of overkill, perhaps, but they had
been very worried about her.
"Wow." She blinked woozily and said, "I'm sorry I
said you drooled on me, Wesley."
"Drool?" Gunn gave him a look.
"There have been no incidents involving drool for at
least three years," Wesley protested.
Cordelia managed to remain sitting up under her own
power, and said, "Boys, I'm okay. I'm fine. Freakout
Gunn rocked back to sit on his heels. "You realize
I'm gonna need the whole story on this, right?"
Wesley blinked innocently. "What story?"
Gunn raised his fist. "Don't make me break out the
"That's not fair!" Wesley scrambled backwards at
"Pfft," Cordelia said, moving her legs out of the way
so Gunn could pull Wesley into a headlock. "Like life
He attempted escape, but Gunn tripped him. Wesley
made a strangled sound as Gunn hauled him back and
locked Wesley between his thighs to free up an arm.
"Truth or noogie, Wes."
"A lifetime of blackmail material versus momentary
pain?" Wesley said. "You can't be serious."
Cordelia turned to look at Fred, who was perched on
the reception desk next to a pile of Cordelia's MRIs
and CAT scans. "Can I have birthday cake now?"
Fred smiled brightly, but then her face clouded. "I
think Lorne may have eaten it all."
Wesley was having a terribly difficult time opening
his eyes. He blinked slowly and the shadows in his
bedroom began to variegate, resolving into blurred
shapes lurking in the darkness.
A man stood next to his bed.
Wesley fumbled for his glasses, knuckles connecting
painfully with the hard plastic of his alarm clock.
The man moved closer and began to bend down;
adrenaline spiked down his spine and Wesley shoved
himself into a sitting position, muscles sluggish from
"Hey, yo, chill. Just me."
"Gunn?" Wesley said, slumping back against his pillow.
"Good heavens. Is something wrong?"
Gunn shrugged. "Nah, not really. Got home tonight
and the fuzz were crawling all over my building.
Thought I could wait 'em out so I could get to my
place, but there must've been something heavy going
"Oh. Not zombie police, I take it?"
Gunn snorted. "Nah. Just, you know, black guy, crime
scene - not a good combo."
"Ah," Wesley said, struggling against the desire to
return to sleep in order to discern what it was Gunn
wanted. "Did you -- would you like to stay here?"
"Was hoping you'd let me crash."
"Of course you may. For future reference, there's no
need to ask." Wesley yawned on the last word.
"Cool." Gunn walked to the other side of the bed and
shrugged off his coat, tossing it over a chair. His
boots hit the carpet with two muffled thumps, and then
Gunn skinned out of his shirt and climbed onto the
bed. Wesley's eyes were already closing when Gunn
appropriated a pillow and half the covers.
It wasn't until he woke the next morning that he
stopped to consider how odd it was that Gunn didn't
take the couch.
But then, Gunn was rather tall, taller than he was,
and Wesley had always felt cramped when he fell asleep
on the couch. He hadn't invested in a sofa-bed,
either, and that left the floor.
And Gunn sleeping on the floor when Wesley had a
double bed, and no current occupant other than him,
did seem more ridiculous than sharing.
Only, now the sheets and the pillowcase smelled
faintly of Gunn. And Lord help him, but waking up to
that scent had made Wesley feel safe.
Wesley scrubbed the sleep from his eyes and got up,
wandering out of his bedroom to see Gunn eating cereal
at the dining room table. He had yesterday's
newspaper spread over the table top, spooning Cocoa
Puffs into his mouth.
"Good morning," he said. Gunn made an
incomprehensible sound through a mouthful of cereal.
Inordinately pleased to see him there, Wesley smiled
at him and went into the kitchen to put on the kettle
"If you'll exact payment from that group of
NathNa'rans, Fred and I will interview --"
Gunn snatched the crossbow Wesley was holding and
said, "Why don't *you* go get the money from the big
forehead guys and *I'll* take Fred to talk to the --"
Wesley snatched the crossbow back. "Don't be
ridiculous. Fred wanted to learn how to understand
the Koshoni sign language system --"
Gunn reached out and grabbed for the weapon again, but
Wesley held on and they both struggled for it.
How odd, Wesley thought, I've suddenly regressed to
the mental age of five.
"Let go," he said.
Gunn tugged harder. "*You* let go."
"What are we doing?"
Gunn shrugged and let go off the crossbow. "Good
They both turned their heads at the sound of Cordelia
tapping her nails on the reception desk, holding
Connor in the crook of one arm. She raised her
eyebrows and said, "Did somebody miss nap-time?"
"Very funny," Wesley said.
"Lorne's on his way to do his brain-wave thing with
the Koshoni-whatsits. Fred went with him. Angel's
off tracking some slime thing in the sewers. And me?"
She stepped around the reception desk and thrust
Connor into Gunn's arms. Gunn automatically took him,
moving to support the baby's head. Cordelia turned
and took the crossbow from Wesley's relaxed fingers.
"Me? I'm gonna let the big forehead guys know their
check is past due."
She turned on her heel and stalked across the lobby.
At the door, she paused and pointed at Wesley with the
crossbow. "Gunn, you're on Connor duty. If the phone
rings, Wesley, answer it. Think you two can handle
that, or do I need to go get you both a pacifier and a
blankie?" Without waiting for an answer, she left the
Wesley and Gunn dropped their eyes to look at the
baby, then looked back up at each other.
He supposed he ought to be dissatisfied that his plans
had just been thwarted, but instead he felt oddly
content. He sat down at the reception desk and picked
up the telephone. "Shall I order dinner?"
"Pizza," Gunn said. He jiggled Connor a bit.
"Ham and pineapple?"
"You know it."
Gunn was sitting on his couch watching television when
he came home, a pile of comic books on the coffee
"Gunn," Wesley said. He was a little surprised to see
him here, after the way they had both been acting the
last few days. Wesley entered the kitchen and put
away the sack of items he'd picked up at the grocer's.
He was always glad to see Gunn, just not quite as glad
lately when the topic of conversation turned to a
"Now, Fred," Gunn said when Wesley walked into the
living room, "would actually look fine in that dress."
A case in point.
For once, Wesley was pleased that Fred was at the
Hyperion, still discussing decapitation with Lorne.
It had been painful to watch her hands constantly
flutter up to check her neck.
And also painful, he grumped, to watch Gunn's
Wesley glanced at the television and chose to ignore
Gunn's proprietary attitude towards their coworker.
An awards program was on, and the camera switched from
some plush actress Wesley didn't recognize to Cameron
Diaz. "*What* is she wearing?"
Gunn snorted. "Fashion police should've got her on
her front stoop."
Wesley sat down on the couch. "Oh, dear," he said.
"Sarah Jessica Parker has absolutely no taste
whatsoever, does she?"
Gunn leaned forward and squinted. "She's got sequined
pants on. What the fuck?"
"I'm afraid I'm still looking at the black crepe
Chinese lantern she's wearing."
Wesley tilted his head as another group of actors
strolled across the screen. "I don't remember any of
the premiere parties I went to with Virginia being
quite this garish."
There was a pregnant pause. Wesley looked at Gunn and
they both cleared their throats. Gunn picked up the
remote control and began changing the channels,
searching for something a bit more manly to watch.
Fred stretched and yawned, her pink tongue curling in
her mouth. "Oh, I'm pooped," she announced, climbing
up from the floor, open books and paper jotted with
her notes strewn across the lobby floor. "I'm going
to bed. See y'all tomorrow." She waved a little with
her fingers and climbed the stairs, heading towards
Wesley sighed and heard it in stereo as Gunn sighed
beside him. He turned to glare at Gunn, only to find
Gunn already glaring at him.
This unexpected rivalry was already becoming more than
a little tedious.
"Oh, come *on*, you guys," Cordelia groaned behind
them. She lay on a couch, curled into a ball. Angel
had already taken Connor to bed hours ago.
"What?" Wesley said.
"You two. Mooning over Fred. What is *up* with that,
Gunn frowned. "Hey."
"Fred's very intelligent and quite attractive," Wesley
Cordelia propped her head up on her hand, elbow
digging into the couch cushion. "Well, duh, Fred's
really smart and cute. But why are you two acting
like she's the last girl on earth who doesn't have
horns or wants to rip your head off so she can lay her
eggs in it?"
"Well..." Wesley said. He paused to think.
And immediately tried to stop thinking when he
wondered if he was destined to become infatuated with
every single one of his coworkers.
Gunn merely looked perplexed.
"Do you guys even *know* why?" She waited. "You
don't, do you? What do you even *know* about Fred?
Do you talk to her, hang out with her? I mean, yeah,
she's still kind of hung up on Angel, but she's about
as interested in dating either of you as she is in
taking a Cosmo quiz."
"How do you know that?" Gunn said.
Cordelia snorted. "Because I spend time with her,
dufus. You two spend all your free time with each
"We do?" Wesley said.
And upon reflection, apparently they did.
"Uh, *yeah*," Cordelia said. "If she was going to
fall for anyone -- which I'm not saying she will,
because the whole inter-dimensional slavery thing?
Might be kinda hard for her to overcome -- it'd be
Angel. He's the hero, he's got a cute kid, he's a
snappy dresser, and she's already got the googly love
feelings for him."
"I now feel the consistency of chopped liver," Wesley
Their behavior, he admitted to himself, had been on
the wrong side of ridiculous.
Ridiculous and immature, since it would have taken him
months to get up the courage to even think about
dating Fred if Gunn hadn't indicated his interest.
Gunn blinked. "Ouch, girl."
Cordelia stood up and patted them both on the
shoulder. "You're big boys. You can handle it." She
retrieved her purse and coat from behind the reception
desk and waved on her way out.
"Well," Wesley said. "That was..."
Gunn gave him a strange, evaluating look, then
abruptly glanced around empty lobby and headed for the
door. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."
Wesley shrugged and checked his wallet for taxi fare.
One awkward conversation was more than enough for the
night. And the worry that his ulterior motive for
keeping Gunn away from Fred didn't exactly have much
to do with Fred cheeped faintly in the back of his
Wesley leaned against a dark doorway just off the
sidewalk. He watched Gunn's truck nearly pass him by
before Gunn braked hard and parked his truck
Not that Wesley expected there to be an officer of the
law who would be patrolling this area of town for
"Nothing like a slime demon to interrupt a quiet
evening at home," Wesley said when Gunn climbed out of
Gunn shrugged. "Wasn't doing anything."
Wesley smiled. "Neither was I." He nodded at an
alley about a block down the street. "That's the one,
I should think, from Cordy's description."
They bumped shoulders when they turned into the alley,
elbows brushing. They both stopped when something
squished beneath their shoes.
"Ugh," Gunn said. He lifted his boot. Slime trailed
from the rubber and plopped back down onto the
pavement. "That is so disgusting."
"Hm," Wesley said, and crouched down. "Fascinating.
I don't think I've ever seen this shade before - what
do you think, lavender?"
Wesley touched the pale purple slime and brought his
hand back up to his nose to sniff it. Watching, Gunn
made a face like Cordelia had left the grinds in the
coffee again. "It's a pity Angel wasn't available;
his olfactory senses are far superior to mine."
Wesley looked around the alley, eyes narrowed, looking
Gunn toed at the slime with his boot. "You saying you
wish Angel was here instead of me?"
Wesley looked up from the slime with what must have
been a baffled expression, and Gunn tucked his hands
in his pockets.
"What are you talking about, Gunn?"
"You used to look at him sometimes," Gunn said.
Wesley narrowed his eyes and stood. His stomach,
however, felt as if it had remained at knee-level.
"How did I look at him, exactly?"
"Like you wanted him."
So. Gunn had noticed that.
A flush of embarrassment rose up his neck, doing
battle with a flush of indignation that Gunn would
break their tacit agreement not to mention each
others' more stunning moments of idiocy.
He'd always been as honest with Gunn as he could. His
embarrassment shouldn't alter that.
No matter how much he'd like to chuckle and inform
Gunn that the industrial-strength cleaning supplies
had obviously done severe damage to Gunn's brain
"I can't deny that, in the past, I've had certain
feelings for Angel," Wesley said. "One might call it
Wesley raised his eyebrow. "He is an attractive man."
"Vampire," Gunn said. "Attractive vampire."
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I have noticed that Angel
is a vampire, Gunn."
"You want to be with him?"
"No," Wesley said calmly. "I don't."
Wesley felt his jaw twitch. What a fine time to be
developing a facial tic. "No. Not in the slightest."
"What about Fred?"
Wesley looked away. That one stung, and he hoped Gunn
hadn't intended it to. "You know why I can't be with
"Would you be with her if --"
He had to cut Gunn off. "Wishful thinking won't
change what I did to her, Gunn. I've been fooling
myself by believing it would."
Fred might be able to forgive him for attacking her
while under Billy's influence, but Wesley doubted he
would ever be able to forgive himself.
Hardly the basis for a healthy relationship.
Hardly, Wesley was slowly realizing, what he really
wanted at all.
"Yeah. I know that."
Wesley's eyes narrowed. "What about you and Fred?"
"Me and Fred?"
Annoyed, he said, "Oh, so when you're the person under
inquiry, it's permissible to feign ignorance?"
Gunn rolled his eyes. "Fred's cool."
Gunn shrugged. "That's it. She's cool. She's hot.
And she must be blind, 'cause she totally doesn't dig
"Yeah, really." Gunn paused. "It's just, uh... you
know what we were talking about at that flighty
chick's place? The one with the zombie boyfriend?
Well, uh, you make me comfortable, Wes." Gunn
grimaced. "Jesus. 'You make me comfortable.' How
lame is that? It's like, 'you complete me.' 'Show me
Unexpectedly relieved, Wesley ignored the references
he didn't understand, a faint, buzzing lightheadedness
closing his ears. "Yes, I find you... you make me
comfortable, as well."
And it was true. He and Gunn had a level of rapport
that Wesley had with no one else.
All right, it wasn't Fred he had been trying to keep
to himself, after all.
"So what do you want?"
Gunn stepped closer. "What do you *want*, English?"
Wesley tilted his head and looked at Gunn. Really
looked at him.
And knew that he was hopelessly attracted to the man.
Well, really, that was something he'd known since the
moment they'd met.
"I think," Wesley said slowly, "that I didn't buy a
Playstation in the hopes that Angel or Fred would drop
by to use it, Gunn."
"You on crack, Wesley?"
He glared. What he was trying to say was already
complicated enough without Gunn's provocation.
"Apparently, I'm not allowed to have a personal
revelation without accompanying wisecracks."
Gunn held up his hands. "Ooh, touchy."
"Comfort aside, I - I think I want you," Wesley
snapped, "and I can't imagine it's mutual. But if you
have a problem with it, I'd appreciate it if you told
Gunn stepped even closer. "Oh, I'll tell you about
it, all right." Gunn forced Wesley backwards, shoved
him up against the stucco wall.
"Gunn," Wesley said. He knew Gunn wouldn't hurt him.
"Shut up, Wes," Gunn said. Gunn dove in, lips
pressing against Wesley's, tongue searching for a way
in, biting a little with his teeth. Gunn pushed his
thigh between Wesley's legs, one hand stroking
Wesley's nape, the other at the small of his back.
It was warm, open-mouthed, and slick. Gunn kissed him
and he moaned, mouth vibrating against Gunn's lips
until they itched.
Gunn pulled back a little.
"Oh, my," Wesley said. His glasses were a little
crooked. And apparently, he was gripping Gunn's ass.
And now he didn't see much of a reason to let go of
"Well, that's a surprise."
"Because the day you don't ignore what's under your
nose is the day Angel starts wearing paisley." Gunn
leaned forward farther into Wesley's space and shook
"We've been very stupid."
"Stupider than a box of hair."
Wesley shifted a little to the left and hissed when he
discovered Gunn was becoming just as aroused as he
was. And there was, yes, very nice friction. "We
could have been doing this for quite some time."
"Fuck," Gunn said, his consonants hard. "You -- fuck.
Alley. Fuck you in an alley."
Wesley breathed hard, rubbing against Gunn, feeling
the roughness of his jeans, the bite of his zipper,
the press of the seam on the skin of the inside of his
thigh, his thigh now around Gunn's hip. "I think
we're in trouble."
A thought occurred to him. "You realize we've
essentially been dating for a year."
Gunn grinned, and leaned in again to lick Wesley's
neck. "You put out?" he said, voice low, breath
tickling Wesley's ear.
Wesley tilted his head back and smiled, his confidence
returning. "What, no dinner? No movie?"
Gunn bit at Wesley's exposed neck. "Go back to your
place. Order pizza, watch porn."
Wesley was about to agree to that *brilliant* plan
when he heard the squelching noise.
Slime plastered their clothes to their bodies.
"I suppose now is a bad time to say I wish Angel was
here right now instead of me," Gunn said. He crouched
down to fish one of his throwing knives out of the
Wesley turned his head. A glob of slime dripped from
his earlobe. "And I suppose now is a bad time to
mention I've seen Angel naked."
"I didn't see much. He was on top of me at the time."
Wesley grinned. "The Host did tell me I'd never know
the love of a woman."
Gunn pointed at him with his slime-encrusted knife.
"You always fight this dirty? 'Cause I'm thinking I
might have to get some shit on you from Cordy."
"When I first met Cordelia, I had a tendency to faint
at any hint of danger, and I was far too uptight to
kiss her properly."
"You just took all the fun out of it."
"Oh, I know," Wesley said. "Do you want to return
home with me so we might shower and fuck?"
Gunn blinked. "Um."
"Or did you forget about your offer of pizza and porn?
I was on the verge of accepting before the slime
creature interrupted us. Pity, that. I've never had
sex in an alley."
A large glob of lavender slime slid from Wesley's
clothes and plopped onto the pavement. He looked at
it with disgust. "I hope you won't take this as
discouragement, Gunn, but we won't be touching one
another until we've showered separately."
Gunn walked to his truck. "Do you hear me
Wesley locked his ankles behind Gunn's neck, hands
sliding up Gunn's arms, Gunn's skin damp with sweat.
He lifted his hips into Gunn's rhythmic push, causing
Gunn to groan and thrust harder. Wesley slid his hand
down his own damp chest, wrapping it around his
erection and pulling.
The headboard of Wesley's bed began hitting the wall.
After a moment, Wesley's neighbor banged on the wall
and yelled something that was muffled through the
plaster and drywall.
They both started laughing.
"Perhaps," he gasped, "we should move to the floor."
"Fuck *that*," Gunn said, twisting his hips. "They
gonna call the cops 'cause we're fucking too loud?"
"Is sodomy," Wesley said breathlessly, "illegal in
"It would be embarrassing to explain to the others,"
Wesley paused to groan, "why we need bail money."
Gunn planted his hands on either side of Wesley's
head. "Fuck you *unconscious*."
"I'd say you were no fun, but I'd be lying through my
"Good," Gunn said, leaning down to kiss him, pushing
Wesley's knees into his chest. Gunn thrust harder.
Wesley panted and flung his arm out for better
purchase, hand twisting in the sheets. His other hand
worked on his erection, calluses sliding over his
slick, firm flesh.
Wesley whimpered in an undignified manner and came,
fluid spreading over his hand and belly. Gunn grunted
a few moments later and collapsed on top of him.
Wesley stroked his hand down Gunn's sweaty back and
disengaged his legs, stretching them out.
He murmured, "You still owe me dinner." He fell
asleep with Gunn laughing into his neck.
"We do not own *Black Mask*," Gunn insisted.
Wesley filed the case folder he'd pulled earlier that
morning. "Yes, we do. It's that one with the bad
dubbing, where Jet Li's character and his cop friend
are obviously having sex."
Gunn wrinkled his brow. "Okay. So we do own *Black
Wesley sat back down at his desk. "I'd have sex with
Gunn laughed. "Long as I get to watch."
"Really. I was hoping you'd participate."
"You always this delusional, or are you just trying to
pay me back for eating all the Cocoa Puffs this
"I don't eat Cocoa Puffs," Wesley said.
"Then why do I always smell chocolate breath on you?"
All conversation halted when Fred walked into the
office, one arm hooked around the other and her
fingers entwined. "Hi."
"Hello, Fred," Wesley said. Gunn smiled at her.
Fred rolled her eyes, then ducked her head. "Angel
wants me to update the website. Again."
"Do you need to use the desk?" Wesley asked.
Fred nodded and Wesley stood up, offering her his
chair. She sat down and was quickly engrossed in the
screen of the laptop. Wesley looked over at Gunn and
Gunn slung his arm over Wesley's shoulders, his thumb
gently rubbing against Wesley's neck. "C'mon, Wes.
Let's go kill something."