Title: Territorial Markings
Author: shrift
E-mail: darth_shrift at yahoo.com
Rating: PG, Wes/Gunn slash
Summary: In which Gunn's pain is mocked and Wesley has no shoes.
Spoilers: Post-ep for 505 "Life of the Party".
Notes: Beta by Nestra.
Disclaimer: Wes and Gunn belong to Whedon, Greenwalt, Mutant Enemy, et al. shrift is an unincorporated weasel, and derives no profit from their use. Archive: Yes to list archives

Gunn slunk into his office to grab his briefcase so he finally could go the hell home and found Wes sprawled on his couch, barefoot and one arm slung over his eyes. He stood there in the dark for a minute, a tension headache just sort of pulsing in his temples like a demon about to hatch. And then home seemed like it was just way too far away to bother, so he lifted up Wesley's feet and sat down. Dropped Wesley's feet in his lap. Leaned back. Closed his eyes.

Man, his back hurt. Getting his violence on was one thing, but having Lorne's big, bad alter ego kick his ass was downright embarrassing.

"This was certainly an enlightening evening," Wes said, and his voice was so dry that Gunn looked around his office for the cactus and tumbleweed.

"Oh yeah," Gunn said, "real enlightening. I did some very *enlightened* marking of my territory today, remember?"

Wes grinned, arm still over his eyes. "Oh, I remember. Did I mention that it was highly unsanitary?"

Gunn smacked his feet. "And the thing is, I have *no* idea when I started pissing everywhere. For all I know, I took a leak in front of the *court*."

The laugh Wes was obviously suppressing made his voice sound weird. "Well, if you did, I'm sure we would have heard by now. Wouldn't the judge have filed for contempt?"

"You mock my pain," Gunn said. "We're talking about my dignity, man."

"Oh, you want to talk about dignity?" Wesley said, finally dropping his hand from his eyes and letting it flop onto his chest. His eyes were a little blood-shot. "Fred and I were wandering around all night 'drunk-faced', as she so charmingly put it."


"Fred decided that we ought to be bosom buddies, and due to some wildly intoxicated reasoning, I agreed," Wesley said. "She made me have a 'girl-talk' with her about *Knoxie*."

Gunn made a gleeful noise, instantly feeling better. "What, you didn't make a move?"

Wes looked at him sourly, nudging Gunn's stomach with his foot. "I was carrying her around all night and I didn't even *attempt* to touch her inappropriately, thank you very much."

His crisp tone made Gunn smile. "I don't get it. If you're not making a play for Fred, then why do you hate Knox so much? He seems like an okay guy."

Wesley arched an eyebrow. "I dislike Knox because he's incredibly *annoying*. He has all of Fred's irritating quirks, and none of her many redeeming qualities."

"Whatever," Gunn shrugged. "I'm just glad I'm not whipping it out every five seconds anymore."

"Pity," Wes murmured, smiling like he knew a secret.

Gunn did a hard double-take. "What?"

"It's a funny thing," Wesley said. "I went to my office after we tucked in Lorne."

"Yeah?" Gunn shifted a little. Stuff he did while under Lorne's influence kept coming back to him in flashes of 'oh man, *tell* me I didn't do that,' and he had the feeling that this one was gonna be bad.

"My entire office reeks of urine," Wesley said. "Did you perhaps wander by mistake?"

He did this weird hunch and side-nod, hoping that Wesley would interpret it as some kind of yes.

"Hmm," Wesley said. "I had no idea you were so possessive of my mystical texts. Thinking of branching out again? My department could certainly use the help."

Gunn switched tactics and tried to stare him down. "Okay, so I peed in your office. *And* I peed on Angel's chair, around the entire buffet table, and you don't even wanna *know* what I did down in motor pool. So what?"

Wes pinched Gunn's thigh with his bare toes. "Am I your territory?"

"Damn straight, you are," Gunn said immediately. "Um."

"All right," Wesley said easily, "but you owe me a new pair of shoes."

"What?" Gunn demanded, and Wes just looked so *smug* that just he had to pounce on his ass and pull him into a headlock. Wes laughed and fought him breathlessly, sprawled across Gunn's lap and kind of folded in half. "Say 'uncle'."

"What?" Wesley said, craning his neck.

Gunn squeezed him a little tighter. "Say it."

"Fine. Uncle."

As soon as Gunn let go, Wes reared up and hooked his arm around Gunn's neck, free-falling backward and letting his weight drag Gunn along with him. He landed on Wes with a hard bounce, both of them still tangled up and Wesley's thighs pressing against his hips.

"Oof," Wesley said.

"I declare this land," Gunn said, still struggling to hold Wes down, "the territory of Charles Gunn --"

Wesley grunted. "Territorial urination *cannot* be permissible in court."

"Sure," Gunn said, pinning Wes by his wrists. "You just go right on thinking that."

"You're impossible," Wesley said.

"Part of my charming personality," Gunn told him.

Wesley laughed. "You just keep thinking that."

"Oh, you *didn't* --" Gunn started to say, but then Wes kissed him. Warm, smooth lips against his own, stubble scraping at the skin around his mouth. Wesley's tongue flicking over his lips, between, and then in, his tongue barely tasting like beer.

Gunn figured, what the hell, and kissed him back, letting go of Wesley's wrists and relaxing into his body. The kisses they were trading were slow and liquid, with these deep, unhurried sweeps of tongue. 'Hey, hello, stay for a while' type kisses. The kind that built to tingling lips and a slow burn everywhere else.

He liked it. He liked it *a lot*.

Always had.

Wesley rubbed against him lazily. "We should go. We have to be back at work in a few hours."

"I say we make like Lorne and take the day off," Gunn said. "Nobody else'll be worth anything, anyway."

"True," Wesley said. "I suppose I could go home. I can't remember the last time I was there."

"Are you forgetting that your ass is mine?" Gunn interrupted.

"Oh, and how were you planning on staking your claim?" Wesley asked. "And please don't make any inappropriate flag jokes, or I shall be forced to hurt you."

"We can play Risk for your ass," Gunn suggested.

"How appropriate," Wesley said. "All right, I'm in."

Gunn nudged him. "I'll win, you know. Always do."

Wes just smiled. "I'm counting on it."



Back to S