Title: Man of Sorrows
Series: The Wes soap I guess, though I’ve got a few stories in between to finish – sorry about that, Chief. I’ve been on a research tour.
Author/pseudonym: Hellblazer
E-mail address: havisham06@yahoo.com
Rating: MA
Pairing: A/W W/G
Date: 15 March 2001
Archive: Yes
Disclaimers: Don't own these characters, Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox, Mutant Enemy, and the rest do. No copyright infringement is intended or inferred.
Warnings: sex (m/m), adult themes
Spoilers: Post "Epiphany", Season 2
Summary: Follows immediately after the rescue of Cordelia.
Wesley ducked as the water sloshed down over him. He blinked, wiping water from his eyes and heard the squirt of shampoo into a palm. He closed his eyes as strong fingers began to massage the shampoo into his scalp.
"How many times am I gonna have to wash demon slime outta your hair?" Gunn groused fondly, making Wesley smile.
"I don't know," Wesley admitted honestly. He was sitting in his barely filled bath and Gunn was attempting to wash the hard to shift mix of demon slime, plaster flakes and asbestos dust from Wesley's hair, after first having set Wesley's flat to rights as much as he could in an hour or so and boarding up the window the demons had crashed through.
"This shit is worse than chewing gum," Gunn continued. He scrubbed at Wesley's head hard, then dumped another bucket of water over him.
Wesley blinked again and Gunn laughed.
"What?"
"You're so cute when you do that."
Wesley gave him a look.
"All big eyed and blue eyed," Gunn teased very affectionately.
He soaped Wesley up again, this time more gently. The water cascaded down over Wesley again and he felt Gunn lean in and kiss him, Gunn's warm mouth on his. He opened his mouth and accepted the kiss, turning to Gunn, holding onto his shoulder as Gunn's tongue slid against his.
Gunn released him for a moment, nuzzling Wesley's cheek as his hand dipped into the shallow water, his thumb stroking over the head of Wesley's semi hard erection.
"No," Wesley pleaded, pulling back, the moment broken. "It's too painful," he tried to explain.
"The hole in you or Angel?" Gunn had to know.
"Both," Wesley answered sadly.
Gunn nodded. "You're straight with me. That's good." He kissed Wes lightly on the lips, too quickly for protest, then pulled him from the bath, towelled him down, helped him into the bedroom and dumped him down on the bed. The mattress sprang under his extra weight as he sat beside Wesley, peeling away the cling wrap they'd used to try and keep the bandages wrapped around his midriff dry. Then Gunn pulled away the slightly sodden bandage. He saw the blurred spots of blood, but said nothing.
Wesley said nothing either, barely breathing as Gunn bound him up again. Gunn taped it tight then fetched Wesley's pills, seeing how thin his lips were, pressed together in unspoken pain.
"I can stay," Gunn offered. "I'd feel better if I were here to keep an eye on you."
"I'll be fine," Wesley fashioned a smile. "Really. I just want to sleep."
"Well, I'll check back later."
"If you like."
"I'll be here," Gunn insisted.
Wesley nodded and waved him off. Gunn only wanted to stay because of Angel, and Wesley was really too tired to deal with any of it. He heard the door shut, waited a moment, then shook a few more doses into his thin palm and swallowed them. He turned out the light and curled up into his bed, to sleep alone, but very quickly he didn't care.
A shadow moving in shadow, Angel waited, watching and frowning, unhappy.
Crossing the threshold, Angel stood over Wesley, listening to the slow breath of a heavily drugged sleep. He reached out to touch the pale skin, but stopped himself. Wesley’s hair still smelt of demon blood, plaster and Gunn. He picked up the discarded bandages in the bin, smelling Wesley’s blood on it, like ambrosia. He wanted so badly, to taste…he fought away the urge. Wesley was no longer his to touch, to taste, or was he?
Wesley shifted in his sleep, aware of Angel’s presence on an unconscious level. The long, pale throat was bared, lit in slants of moonlight. Angel could see the pulse, beating hypnotically. A siren call. He still wanted Wesley, wanted him because he represented all the things Angel wanted but did not have: loyalty, dignity, decency, honour, friends.
He wanted Wesley, but he couldn’t have him. Maybe, some day, Angel could earn again his trust, his friendship, his love. One day. Until then…
Angel left Wesley’s bedside, confident that Wesley was safe for tonight. And if he wasn’t, well, Angel wasn’t going very far, taking up his usual vigil outside Wesley’s window, waiting and watching, and thinking on how badly he’d fucked up both their lives. Thinking on what he’d thrown away for the chance of a tumble with a two bit whore.