Realization dawned as he stood and glared at Giles. This was not the first shower he'd been helped with, and if going by his quaking knees was a barometer for the coming days, it would not be the last.
Wesley turned his back and stood in front of the shower door, grateful for it's frosted glass. Giles' proximity during the trip to the bathroom had been far from unbearable, yet, he couldn't wait to be able to do this unaided. He decided not to think about that until he had some privacy.
Privacy which he definately did not have at the moment. Giles' scent of Earl Gray and aftershave lingered in his nose, he could almost feel the weight of Giles' arm around his waist, and he could certainly feel the weight of the man's stare at his back. Damn.
Hissing at the stiffness of his muscles, he fumbled with the snaps of his hospital gown. Hopefully there would be something else for him to wear. He gingerly steped over the lip of the walk in shower, and shut the door. Alone at last.
Gratefully discovering a built in seat in the shower, Wesley sank down and tilted his face to the warm spray of water. He was exhausted. and he hadn't even washed his hair yet.
While Wesley showered, Giles moved about getting what would be needed afterwards. So far it had been impossible to get the man to put on the sweats they'd made sure to get for him, but Giles thought that might be different today. Retrieving them from the small dresser under the sink, he also laid out a towel, an electric razor, toothbrush and toothpaste.
He was, at least, looking forward to not having to explain what they were this time. Sighing, Giles retook his seat on the counter and waited, listening in case Wesley needed his help. He was sure the man wouldn't ask for it after all.
Wesley, for his part, sat on the bench for a long moment, trying desperately to remember the past few weeks. Giles seemed very familiar, his presence, his smell, even the weight of his hands on his forehead or arm. Still, he found it impossible to dredge up anything but vague impressions of safety and comfort.
Shaking his head, Wes began to wash up, hurrying with the task and pushing away the questions. Things like, if he'd been so very delirious and yet taken showers, who had helped him wash . . . and, oh good lord, he most certainly should not think about that.
Wesley turned his back and stood in front of the shower door, grateful for it's frosted glass. Giles' proximity during the trip to the bathroom had been far from unbearable, yet, he couldn't wait to be able to do this unaided. He decided not to think about that until he had some privacy.
Privacy which he definately did not have at the moment. Giles' scent of Earl Gray and aftershave lingered in his nose, he could almost feel the weight of Giles' arm around his waist, and he could certainly feel the weight of the man's stare at his back. Damn.
Hissing at the stiffness of his muscles, he fumbled with the snaps of his hospital gown. Hopefully there would be something else for him to wear. He gingerly steped over the lip of the walk in shower, and shut the door. Alone at last.
Gratefully discovering a built in seat in the shower, Wesley sank down and tilted his face to the warm spray of water. He was exhausted. and he hadn't even washed his hair yet.
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He was, at least, looking forward to not having to explain what they were this time. Sighing, Giles retook his seat on the counter and waited, listening in case Wesley needed his help. He was sure the man wouldn't ask for it after all.
Wesley, for his part, sat on the bench for a long moment, trying desperately to remember the past few weeks. Giles seemed very familiar, his presence, his smell, even the weight of his hands on his forehead or arm. Still, he found it impossible to dredge up anything but vague impressions of safety and comfort.
Shaking his head, Wes began to wash up, hurrying with the task and pushing away the questions. Things like, if he'd been so very delirious and yet taken showers, who had helped him wash . . . and, oh good lord, he most certainly should not think about that.
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