No infringement of the following characters and situations is intended.
Warning: Rated [MA] Mature Adults only. Contains m/m themes and violence
Title: When He Smiles
Series: Miracles
Status: Complete
Author/pseudonym: Hellblazer
E-mail address: havisham06@yahoo.com
Rating: MA
Pairing: Angel/Wesley
Date: 9 July 2004
Disclaimers: Don't own these characters. No copyright infringement is intended or inferred.
Warnings: may contain: slash, H/C, violence, m/m hanky panky, drug use, nudity, coarse language, adult themes
Spoilers: Seasons 1-5
Summary: Wes wallows in a sense of inadequacy.
Here is the last fic I shall ever type up at this desk. Dear desk, that has seen many a typed tryst. Oh well.
This Angel/Wes drabble was written on the 9th of July, but I'm finally typing and posting it now for
When he rolls back on the pillows and smiles at me, that soft, happy, sated smile, it cuts like a knife.
When he touches me, the lightest caress to my cheek, I know the truth. I know I'm not worthy. I know I don't make him happy. I know I am not the one.
I know he chose me because I'm less than perfect. I fill his needs, but nothing more. I'm a safe, easy bet. If nothing else, I know it now, without a doubt, when he smiles at me.
Those gipsies sure knew what they doing, cursing not only him, but anyone who might love him. No matter how close we get, no matter how good we get, I know I will never be good enough.
He opens his eyes and he smiles at me and I know it wasn't good. It wasn't perfect. And neither am I. Not good. Not the one.
It tears me up inside. I can't, I don't want to unleash Angelus on the world, and yet, he smiles at me and I know. I know I don't measure up. And I wonder: is this why he chose me? Am I safe sex? Am I a compromise? I feel as though I offer only something more than a cold empty bed to him, nothing more.
He touches me and my skin crawls and my anger rises. I hate myself and I hate him, yet I cannot pull away. Because anything is better than a cold, empty bed. Even this. Even knowing I will never, ever be the one, because how could I be? How could I, of all people, ever make him happy? Perfectly happy? How could I, when I am me?
My heart sinks as he sinks into the mattress with a sigh. When he smiles at me, I know I am not the one.