EMAIL: eterniata@home.com



DISTRIBUTION: eterniata, biblio, five minute fucks, all others please ask. I've never said no.

DISCLAIMER: These are not my boys. These boys belong to Joss and many others. Pity.

SPOILERS: Specific for "Thin Dead Line" and the final Pylea arc.

SUMMARY: Gunn's eyes are opened after "There's No Place Like Plz Grb."

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Companion piece to "Feel." Improv'd from the SEP list. Rabbit gave me "alive, birthday, dances,and the phrase 'I know what you're thinking.' Extra points for the words: somebody, else, problem." Written for Zahra who needed Wes/Gunn. Beta'd by Kassie. Thanks to you all.


After Pylea, after the little redhead brought her message of death, Gunn takes more time to look around him and see. Other things, not just the demons he is supposed to kill. Takes the opportunity to see the kids on the street when he goes out in the daylight.

Crossing the street he hears the high pitched giggle of a child. Little black girl, face shining with a joy Gunn cannot ever remember feeling. She is beautiful in her glee, pink ruffled dress with a pin proclaiming her the birthday girl. Recalls Alonna at 7, standing on his feet while he tries to teach her the latest dances, their faces each a mirrored vision of concentration. Eyebrows drawn together and tip of the tongue sticking out of one side of the mouth, heads bent as he moves and she whispers to herself, counting the beats.

Down the block to the market, and for once Gunn notices the smells of the place. Dust on the floor tracked in on the feet of the customers, dry scent from the labels on old canned goods that are coming loose from the metal. When he pays for his drink through the thick plexiglass partition, he gets a whiff of stale cold air and the hand cream that the cashier is using. Been in there a hundred times and before today never even bothered to see that she's just a girl, young and tired. Never bothered to think that she might have dreams of someplace else, just like him.

Drinks the cool, sweet soda on the way back to his truck and considers how he managed to get so wrapped up in himself and tune out the world in such a hurry. Protection, sure, but there was a point where he just stopped thinking about the rest of it. Working with Angel, seeing Cordelia take every damn one of those visions that cripple her and drive her to her knees, it just got inside of him somehow and started opening him up again.

He still sees Wes taking the bullet meant for him, earnest face transmitting the belief that his skinny white ass was gonna have some kind of calming effect on the cop. Never once considered that the cop might not give a rat's ass who he shot, Gunn remembers that clear as crystal. Blue eye meeting his in astonishment when the gun went off, hand outstretched towards him. Plea for help and this one can't be ignored, this is not somebody else's problem. Even though Wes almost *died* for him, Gunn was still in the shadowy part of the world. He still couldn't see.

Different now though. It's all kinds of obvious to him, if not to Wes or anyone else. And he is somehow not even surprised that the one who slit his little cocoon of isolation is a girl he never met, who died to save the world. Slayers die. Everyone dies.

Wes is gonna die someday. So is Gunn.

Gunn doesn't even think about what might happen, just starts the truck and drives. Turns on the radio and hears the song and

// I know what you're thinking...//

turns it up louder. It's on auto-pilot, right to Wesley's place, and he knows that Wes is in there sleeping. Can see him on the sheets, glasses off, eyes closed, hair all messed and wild. Alone.

Gunn's knuckles strike the door and he holds his breath. Waits, waits, knocks again. Harder this time, but not too fast. Knock. Knock. Knock. Not a panicked 'open the goddamn door' kind of rapping. Steps back when the knob turns and there's Wesley in the doorway. Hair just like Gun pictured it, spiked up here and there like it's trying to escape his head. Glasses in his hand and those eyes of his so fucking *blue* that it hurts to look.

"Gunn, is everything alright? Come in." Wes steps back, pulls the door open wider.

Gunn enters the apartment, assures Wes that everything is just fine by putting his hand behind Wes' neck, gripping the soft stalk in one hand, and pulling him close for a kiss that has been far too long in coming. There's a breathless moment when Wesley does nothing, no reaction at all, and just as Gunn is thinking he's made a big fucking mistake the lips beneath his part. Wes is kissing him back.

A shudder runs through him as he thinks about losing this, thinks about never having it at all. Never getting to know the exact feel of Wes's skin warm from the covers of his bed, the texture of that black hair in his fingers as they slide up Wes' neck and tangle in the strands. Slim frame of Wes' body pressed just so tight against him, and he's hard, hard everywhere, shoulders and arms, belly and cock all against Gunn, framed in the open door for anyone to see.

He thinks about dead Slayers and evil lawyers and vampires with a soul. Thinks about the baby girl in her pink party dress, and the cashier with her cheap floral hand cream and dreams of a better place.

//Let them see, they should all SEE// and he kisses Wes again.


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