Title: Night Off
Author: JustHuman
Author Email: justhuman111@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: If I owned any of it, Buffy Season 6 would be less depressing and Wesley would wear a lot less clothing. *Sigh * Joss, Mutant Enemy, assorted minions and evil corporations own it all and I'm really not worth suing.
Summary: How the best-laid plans go awry.
Pairing: Wesley/Gunn
Category: Romance? Hmmm... lets go with Romance
Spoilers: None
Rating: R (m/m slash)
Author's Coments: Improv #39 poolside - cocktail - disco - beach - pink. Thanks to Merzibelle and Kath for beta reading with special thanks to Kath for the great observations, comments and corrections. If for some strange reason you want to post this, just ask. Feedback is always welcome justhuman111@hotmail.com

"I can not believe that we are walking down this alley." Gunn did not look at his companion as his ax swung in a gently rhythm that matched their steps.

Wesley jumped a little ahead and turned so he was walking backward. "Perhaps you were unaware, Cordelia has visions about demons, and we fight them. It's really not so complex to decipher. What's making it so difficult tonight?" His tone was light and accompanied by a good-natured smile.

"What's so difficult? You did not just have the nerve to ask me that question." Gunn set a faster pass down the alley, forcing Wesley to jog to keep up.

Wanting to know what was bothering his partner, Wesley caught up, and tugged on the other man's arm to make him stop, "What's the problem?"

Gunn turned slowly and deliberately towards Wesley. Taking a step forward, the two men were face to face. "So, you can't figure out why I'm not happy? Let me just fill you in. Do you remember what night this is? And don't you answer `Thursday.' I know they taught you to read a calendar somewhere in all those damn books."

Wesley was not happy about having his plans for the evening changed either. He opened his mouth to say just that, putting a hand on Gunn's chest to push him backward, but suddenly he couldn't help but feel partially responsible. Unconsciously, he allowed some of that guilt to slip into his voice, "It was our night off."

In a particularly predatory mood, Gunn latched onto the weakness in the other man's voice and started backing him into a wall. "Night off. No Angel, no Cordelia, no vampires, no singing demons, no slimy demons, no demons period. In fact, as I recall, we spent two days talking non-stop about our plans for *our night off*." The final words were punctuated with Gunn's finger poking Wesley in the chest. If you'll recall, that night involved steak, beer, maybe some video games, and very specifically, no demons. Any of this sounding familiar to you?"

Gunn had him dead to rights and Wesley felt himself turning several shades of pink and red as he stuttered his reply, "Well, yes ah …we did have, make all those plans, but...well ah, we just couldn't..."

Normally one of Gunn's favorite pastimes was messing with Wesley, but the stuttering wasn't having it's normal effect of lightening his mood. Gunn's ax hit the ground, the noise causing Wesley to jump a little. Before he could react more, large hands landed on the brick on either side of his face, his nose was only inches from his partner.

"Ohhhh goood, the demon lore didn't squeeze the plan completely out of your head. Let's do a little instant replay and see where the plan may have gone wrong. I made the call to Murray's and placed our order, two porterhouses, one med-rare, the other one dead, baked potatoes, loaded, and some cheesecake for dessert. We get to Murray's and he's running about 10 minutes behind on our to-go order. Not a problem, because we got *all night*."

There was an attempt at interruption, but it was cut off when Gunn's pushed back a little and pressed a finger up against Wesley's lips. "Where was I? Oh yeah, it was happy hour and we couldn't get near the bar. You being resourceful, sweet-talk the cocktail waitress, who diverted a couple of drinks from their intended table to tide us over while we waited. `Sex on the Beach,'' Wes; there's a lot of promise in that drink. Our food comes out and we head to your place."

Apology and evasion hadn't worked, so Wesley opted for diversion. Mustering a look he hoped conveyed, "I've been a bad boy," he sucked Gunn's finger into his mouth and let his fingers start walking up the other man's chest. The eyes staring back at him let Wesley know that his sincerity was being doubted. The finger was unceremoniously pulled out of his mouth and the unwanted fingers unwanted hands pushed away.

"We had a nice dinner in front of the TV, watching the trials and tribulations of a lot of beautiful couples sitting poolside trying to decide who was going to sleep with whom. Now, as much as I'm fond of your skinny white ass, and as much as you love my very manly black one…" when Gunn reached this part of his monologue, Wesley glared at his partner, but Gunn was on a roll. "I know that those speedos and bikinis were making you just as horny as I was getting. So, being in the good mood that we were in on *Our Night Off* you and I started doing some heavy duty strategizing with our lips and hands. So far, I'm thinking that we are going completely with the plan. Heck, as I remember correctly, the hand you had inside the front of my pants was doing an excellent job of convincing me that you had the better strategy. But then it happens" Wesley sighed heavily and looked down. "The phone rings … and *you* answered it."

"I'm sorry, it was force of habit."

"Could have been a telemarketer, might not have even made a dent in the plan, but no it was Cordelia, blatantly ignoring our very explicit request to not talk to us on *Our Night Off*. But at this moment, we are both still with the plan. So, with your fucking beautiful eyes locked on mine, the phone in one hand, *me* in the other, you decide to have this normal conversation with Cordelia, as normal as it gets talking about demons and shit. I'm not lookin' at anything but your eyes, and I'm only thinking about what that hand was doing. But, I get that this situation is making you hot, talking to Cordelia like we were just watching a baseball game or something. And, sweet Jesus, I'm getting off on it because you're getting off on it. I'm seeing a whole new level of kink in you that I never suspected."

"Look, I can see you're mad, but…" Wesley gave an affectionate squeeze to one of the muscular shoulders in front of him, but an unappreciative Gunn plucked it off.

"Then you say to Cordelia, 'Sure, we'll take care of it, but I want to finish the last few bites of my dinner, why don't you repeat that to Gunn,'" the last part was delivered in what Wesley thought was the worst imitation of an English accent that he had ever heard.

"Angel wasn't answering his phone, again. As you are well aware, if we had refused she would have tried to do fight these demons on her own. There was really no choice."

"You shove that fucking phone in my hand, dive to your knees and before I have a fucking clue what's going on, you're mouth is where your hand used to be. Then I'm supposed to be able to say intelligent words to vision girl who's rambling on about some disco demon rejects. I could tell by the *evil* look in your eyes and what your tongue was doing, that you were trying to get me to be all vocal in a way that is not appropriate to polite phone conversation. It's very hard for a guy to divide his attention like that, Wes. And damn-it if she didn't say 'thank you for *volunteering* to take out those demons.'"

Gunn had finally gone quiet. Wesley waited for the next part. Despite all the talking Gunn had done up till now, Wesley realized that the real problem was in what he wasn't saying. Not sure the best way to approach this, he bit his lower lip. Staring at the top of Gunn's bent head and not talking about it wasn't solving anything, so he decided just to ask. "Are you mad because it was our night off? Or, are you mad because of the." Wesley struggled for a moment, "the 'sudden lack of interest' on your part while you were on the phone?"

It was Gunn's turn to stutter. "Listen man…I mean… well, it's not like any of haven't thought about…well, *you know* with Cordelia - not that I was planning on doing anything - It's just that…oh, shit…" He gave up, embarrassed and pushed back from the wall turning away from Wesley.

Trying to be solicitous, Wesley reached over and started massaging the spot where shoulder met neck. He could feel some of the tension fade. "You know, it's no big deal. This happens to everyone once in a while." The left side of Gunn's body jerked, effectively shrugging off Wesley's hand. A bit peeved that his consideration was not welcome, Wesley stepped around so he could see Gunn's face again. Then he let loose his feelings from earlier in the evening. "Did you consider that there was someone else in the room while all this was happening? It wasn't my idea of fun to find a comfortable way to sit in the truck with trousers that were suddenly two sizes too small.

The look in Gunn's eyes told Wesley he had gone to far. He immediately regretted it but before he could apologize, Gunn was pushing past him and picking up his ax, "Yeah Wesley, I forgot all about what it was like to have manly problems."

Wesley squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head hard. "Gunn, I am sorry. I did not mean to..."

"Come on, let's get this fucking over with." Gunn cut him off as he continued down the alley. Wesley pulled at his own hair and looked up pleading to the heavens for something useful to say because the only thing running through his mind was, "Idiot! I am such an idiot." With no divine intervention in the offing, he checked his crossbow and caught up to his tense partner

Caution said that one should peek in a window or listen at the door before rushing in to a warehouse potentially filled with dangerous demons. Wesley noted, as Gunn unceremoniously kicked in the door, that they apparently were not going to be cautious. It was just as Cordelia described it. Ritual - check. Half-drugged woman strapped to altar - check. Three demons dressed in black shirts with oversized pointed collars, white leisure suits, and skin made up of iridescent scales that flashed different colors like they were in the garish lighting of a 70's dance club - check. The fact that they were about two and a half feet tall and Shirley Temple could have probably taken them out - not part of the original description.

It was a …blood bath. Well, Wesley thought, more a disgusting green ichor bath. Wesley and the woman managed to exit the warehouse relatively clean. Gunn was another story, and as they were assisting the woman to the truck, Wesley couldn't help noticing that the demon blood glowed in the dark. They drove the frightened woman home and the rest of the ride back to Wesley's was in mind-numbing silence. There was no discussion as they walked up the stairs, and Wesley fumbled with the keys. There was a complete lack of ceremony as Gunn dropped his demon-splattered ax on a pile of newspapers by the door. There was no sense of modesty or propriety as Gunn left a trail of clothing from the living room to the bathroom, as if he was not even aware that Wesley hadn't closed the front door yet.

Wesley banged his forehead against the door jam, letting out a big sigh before he closed the door. He could hear the water running in the shower and thought it was probably a good idea to let Gunn wind down. Using some old rags, he cleaned the ax. He didn't think the clothes were going to be as lucky as the ax, so he balled them up into a plastic bag for Gunn to decide about later. He moved around the apartment for a few minutes pausing occasionally to glance in the direction of the bathroom. The apartment was clean after the forgotten dishes were put in the sink. Still killing time, he started straightening the couch cushions. He stopped himself thinking, "What the hell am I doing?" Kicking off his shoes and socks, he made his way into the steamy bathroom and put his glasses on the sink when they invariably fogged up. He pulled aside the shower curtain a little and saw Gunn standing with the spray pounding the back of his neck, eyes closed and head hung down.

Still standing outside the shower, Wesley leaned a shoulder against the tiled wall taking in the sight of his lover. The gentle rise and fall of the dark chest belayed the power hidden there. Rivulets of water traced the rounded muscles of arms that Wesley was aching to be wrapped in. "I'm sorry that I that I messed up our evening. I'm also sorry for trying to embarrass you on the phone with Cordelia. I didn't think you would have that kind of reaction." His voice was louder than he would have liked so that he be heard over the shower.

Gunn took a deep breath and began rubbing his neck. He didn't look up when he decided to speak a few moments later. "I know it happens, but it never happened to me," there was still a faint trace of anger his voice. Shaking his head and sighing, "You know, the only thing coming out of Cordelia's mouth in my fantasies is `Oh, Gunn' or `Oh, God'."

"I always get torn. Sometimes I see her gagged which is amazingly satisfying, but it gets in the way of kissing."

Gunn looked up, giving Wesley the first smile he'd seen in several hours. "You know, English, this kinky side of you is beginning to make me nervous."

"Well, one must endeavor to maintain a certain sense of mystery when one has evil eyes." To emphasis his point, he started loosening his belt seductively.

"Evil *Beautiful* eyes." Gunn's smile had turned into a full-blown grin now.

"Yes, you did say my eyes were beautiful …at about the same time you were waxing poetically about my 'skinny white ass.'" Suddenly Wesley's pants were down around his ankles. He spun around and presented Gunn with an excellent view of the object of their conversation. Not content to admire Wesley from afar, he slid an appreciative hand over his partner.

"In all honesty, I can't take back skinny, but I could add hot and amazing."

Looking over his shoulder with his now patented evil eye, Wesley responded in falsetto, "Oh Gunn! Oh God!" This earned his bottom a wet slap.

"You know, English, you are talking way too much."

Wesley stood up and turned so that the two men were nose to nose again. "Make me stop." Gunn looked into Wesley's eyes and was once again amazed at what that man hid on a daily basis behind two tiny clear panes of glass. Grabbing fistfuls of shirt, he pulled a very cooperative Wesley into the shower.

Wesley found himself pinned to a wall for the second time that night. This time it was Gunn's lips doing the work of holding him in place. Gunn finally gave up on his clumsy attempts to unbutton the soaking wet shirt and pulled it apart from the bottom, sending buttons flying. Then Gunn stopped and looked critically at Wesley's face. About to lodge a protest over the cessation of activity, Wesley barely opened his mouth when Gunn's face opened up into a nasty smile.

"Not that you were doing a bad job, in anyone's book, but I think you could use some pointers in getting a man to make some noises."

The insulted look that passed briefly over Wesley's face just made Gunn's smile get bigger. Wesley's voice was getting husky as he caught on, "You mean the ones not appropriate to polite conversation?"

Gunn let a trail of hot little nips and kisses down Wesley's chest and stomach be his response. "Pointer…tips, ah yes… you can never have too many…*Ohhhhhhh!*" Wesley's last coherent thought for a while was, "Thank God, I unplugged the phone."



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