Title: Vampire Dreams (1/1)
Author: Pet (email@example.com)
Summary: Gunn's a little confused.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Joss's. They'd have more fun if that were
Distribution: Please ask. I'll probably say yes!
Feedback: Yes please! Pretty please?
Notes: This is for Spirit, via Kass. Sorry about the lame title, my
title muse seems to be on hiatus.
I used to like sleeping. Warm darkness, that feeling you get when
you're all curled up under blankets and every muscle just kinda
unwinds and you breathe deep and RELAX, cause there's nothin' left
for you to do that day and even if there was you ain't getting up.
Sometimes someone else there to hold on to, y'know, just so you can
hear their heartbeat. Course, that was back in the day. Back when
it was just me and my boys, hangin' out and trying pretty hard to
stay out of trouble, you know, and tryin' to get by. Even after,
there was nights where I just let it all go, stretched out and got
real comfortable, and let my mind drift off someplace else and slept
like a baby.
I never used to dream about vampires. Even then. She was always
human in my dreams, and we'd be hangin', she'd be laughing and
cooking something on the little stove or readin' out loud to one of
the kids that never got no school. Good dreams. I told Wes once,
an' he said it was the sign of a 'healthy subconscious,' whatever the
fuck THAT means. But I never dreamt about vampires.
Now I got my own crib, a real bed and a lock on the door an'
everything, now that I'm gettin' paid. Not much, but Cordelia's
pretty damn good with money an' I almost always get something to
cover rent by the end of the month. I don't hardly ever stay there,
though. Not since that night Wes got shot. Shit, man, I thought my
heart was stoppin' right then and there, when he got all slumped down
and started talking about being cold. I mean. SHIT. So when he got
out of the hospital I kind of moved in. Just to make sure he was
allrigh'. Slept on his short-ass couch and woke up every coupla
hours, just to see if he was still breathing, just sitting by his bed
and watchin' him sleep. Yeah, I know, pretty pansy-ass thing to do,
but Wes is my BOY an' I didn't even know how much I cared till I
almost lost him.
So the first time I fell asleep with him it was kind of natural, you
know? Just passed out right there, head on the bed, an' when I woke
up he was lookin' at me with those big blue eyes--you SEEN how big
those eyes are when he ain't wearin' his glasses?--an' holding my
hand, and when he gave it that little pull it was the easiest thing
in the world to get up next to him and curl around him and listen to
that heart beat, just as strong as any of the others had been. Just
that, that night, but he gave me a LOOK when he was gettin' ready the
next night, and I crawled in with him like it was my rightful place.
Man's got piano hands, you know. Long thin fingers, kinda delicate,
like the rest of him, but he's got some skills there, let me tell
you. I never really thought about it before, but when he started
kissing me like it was no big deal, like we'd been doin' it for
years, it felt kinda comfortable. Right. Soft and slow and he
tasted like tea with honey, and those hands were playin' me like an
instrument, and if he was a little more into it than me, who's to
know? Skilled fingers, man.
After that it got to be a regular thing. I'd follow him home, he'd
invite me in, we'd mess around and get off and I had someone to sleep
with. Good dreams, even after that freakish kid with the eye came
in. THAT was just about the ASS-nastiest thing I have EVER seen, and
I have SEEN some shit. Wes would look at me with those eyes, bedroom
eyes, and I knew what he was thinking. Problem was, I always felt
like I'd be breakin' him if we did anything more than just play, and
he was still all banged up, and so it took us a while, you know? So
when we finally got down to real honest-to-Jesus fucking, I was so
worried about him that it almost wasn't any fun. He really wanted
it, though, like REALLY wanted it, touching me with those anxious
soft hands and begging me to do it, and who am I to turn down a
friend? And if he said 'I love you' right then, well, it was the
middle of sex, you know. People say some wierd shit during sex.
And then THAT was our regular thing, and it was all right. We'd fuck
and I'd hold back and he'd tell me he loved me, an' I'd kiss him,
then we'd sleep. I do love sleeping with that man. He curls up into
the cutest little ball, an' doesn't kick or anything, and just
radiates comfort. Nice to have around in bed. And I still wasn't
dreaming about vampires.
Angel came back somewhere in there. Now I didn't really give too
much of a fuck when he left, cause I figured he had some heavy shit
going down, and besides I barely knew him. And when he came back,
whatever. What the man did was no nevermind to me. He was always
around, though, hangin' over Cordelia like she was the princess she'd
always known she was, waitin' on Wes hand and foot, and just watchin'
me with those big kick-me-now eyes. Pissed me off, kinda. I mean,
here's the Big Man, vampire, ass-kicking DEMON, just ghosting around
the place. It's always a shame when the good ones take a fall.
Like me. Three nights ago. Fighting a big, green an' nasty thing,
it clipped me a good one on the head. My axe went flyin' one way, I
went the other, and before I know it he fuckin' PICKED ME UP and
CARRIED me outta there. Now I ain't a small man. But Angel, he was
holding me like it wasn't no thing at all. I felt small.
Almost...fuck. Delicate. And when he sat me down on a step, and
held my head in his hands so he could get a good look at the cut, all
I could do was stare.
I went home with Wes that night, just like normal. But when I
grabbed him and flipped him over, I left bruises. And when I was
pounding into him I saw brown eyes instead of blue, and hard pale
muscles where Wes don't have 'em. I dreamed of vampires, and strong
hard arms, and not holding back, and bruises that would fade in an
hour. An' every night since then.
The bruises are still there. And Wes still says he loves me.